Swipe Left on Humanity?

Okay, deep breath: I’m single. There, I said it.

And like many hopeful humans navigating the modern jungle of love, I created a profile on a dating app. Or three. You know, for connection. For something real. Maybe even for that rare unicorn: a genuine relationship.

But somewhere between all the bios, filters, and “looking for something casual but open to more” types, I felt it — the creeping anxiety, the tiny gut-punch of wondering, Do they like me? Why not? What did I do wrong? And hey, maybe I’m a sensitive soul, but I don’t think that’s a flaw. I think that’s the whole point of being human.

So here’s the existential swipe-spiral I found myself in: Have we really reduced ourselves to profile pics and punchlines? Is the window to someone’s soul now a 5-second scroll and a thumb movement?

We keep saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover” — but on these apps, we’re not even reading the blurb. We’re just swiping past the title. I’m not claiming moral high ground here. I’ve done it too. I am, in fact, part of the problem. But sometimes, while mid-swipe, I’ve caught myself wondering: What the hell are we doing?

Dating apps aren’t evil. They’ve sparked real connections, marriages, even adorable babies. But also — let’s be honest — they’ve made humans feel like products. Like avocados on a shelf: swipe if ripe, discard if bruised. Only instead of expiration dates, we have age filters. Oof.

And here’s the twist: Technology was supposed to bring us closer. But somewhere along the way, it started to make us emotionally allergic to closeness. We’d rather watch 30-second videos in silence on the bus than talk to the person next to us. Why?

I don’t have the perfect solution. But maybe we start small. Maybe we look up from our screens. Maybe we say hi. Join a book club. Help someone carry groceries — not because they can’t, but because it’s nice to be seen. And please, don’t be weird about it. A little softness goes a long way.

Ladies — if you see a guy looking lost in the snack aisle, maybe help him out.
Guys — if you see someone juggling too many lemons, offer a hand, not a pickup line.

It’s not about romance — it’s about presence. About remembering that we’re not just data points in an algorithm. We’re humans. Gloriously complicated, occasionally awkward, surprisingly wonderful humans.

So sure, tech is cool. But it shouldn’t cost us our empathy. Let’s not turn each other — or ourselves — into scrolling stock.

Maybe the reason I felt frustrated, even low, wasn’t because I wasn’t getting matches. Maybe it was because I forgot I’m more than a profile.