Why Dating In 2025 Feels Like Complete Insanity

What an absolute cluster f*°k.

Between avoidants, chauvinists, serial monogamists, commitment-phobes, people on apps hunting for the “next best thing,” love bombers, hyperactives, stage-4 clingers, the eternally indecisive, situationship enthusiasts, freshly-heartbroken souls, cynics, ghosters, and plain old morons… something is definitely not working.

How have we become so incapable of finding love?

How has it become so difficult to choose one human we actually like and simply go all in, get to know them?

Why do we all seem unable to enter a normal, happy and healthy relationship?

I’ve got to write this in the ‘We’ format, my friends, because truthfully I have to take a bit of accountability of the fact that I must also be a little bit dysfunctional at the moment.

I would position myself in the ‘proving I’m lovable’ category. Or perhaps in the ‘so tired of dating can this just be it and you’re my human and we make it work though we both know it’s likely not the case and we do not know each other yet’ category.

You take a pick.

What a crazy week.

Last week I tried working on myself in therapy, I wrote posts that made absolute sense and made promises to myself that not only did I NOT keep, I actually broke without any retain.

My promise to myself was to protect my heart, my soul and my wellbeing.

I promised myself to stop choosing toxic situations, not to give space to people who treat me like I mean nothing.

Let’s try again next week.

Part 1: trying to win back the imaginary ‘love of my life’

I texted J.

If you’ve been following, that’s the guy I few off to Portugal for thinking he could be the Love of my life.

Sunny, funny, incredibly hot, sensual and who made me feel like the luckiest girl alive until I arrived. Perhaps also on and off while I was there.

Best first kiss of my life (second best actually).

He had behaved like a complete ass to me but somehow my brain had clinically swiped the memory board to a clean slate to allow me to cling on to the idea that this man could actually be the one.

J replied immediately and we hoped several long calls throughout the afternoon, for a couple of hours of together time.

I immediately felt home in is stunning smile, in his deep voice, in our laugher and connection which I still struggle to reconcile with his telling me he never even considered me as his potential partner when I had flown to another country for him with this pretext (which he had told me was the goal).

Leaving all the negatives behind he said he didn’t call out of respect for me — whatever that means — and that he had also missed me and that he would love to come over in January.

What a flirt, what a tease, what a powerful energy.

Smitten.

I miss our video calls, our conversations, our late night calls, our virtual breakfasts and certainly his hands on me while he’s driving or his kisses and our endless laughter which somehow turns into both of us being incredibly horny.

We were meant to speak that evening, neither of us called. We knew it would be addictive and that he’s not there in the right way.

I can’t not say that I felt so seen and heard and light for a moment, before remembering all the pain inflicted on me.

J was the biggest crush of my 2025 and a part of me still wonders — but most of me knows it will never be.

Part 2: The Fucker.

Unhappy with the J outcome and still tormented by how nice the dates were and how terrible his communication had been, in the spirit of ‘I’m just going to be the kind, open, outspoken me that I love instead of listening to everyone’s wise advice’, I called The Fucker. To be fair, he’s really not. He seems sweet and unavailable.

Honestly, he immediately made a plan, for Sunday, of course, as I seem to have subscribed to this day of the week.

Despite the evening being a cozy on on his couch, he shared that he doesn’t like to communicate, that we are all hyperconnected that it stresses him out — let’s remember, he had texted me asking me out and when I replied what are you thinking he ghosted me for 5 days until on the day of the supposed date he had expected me to magically be free for him.

No.

In not so direct words he shared he broke up two months ago and that he still thinks about her though it won’t work, that he’s still recovering, that he’s going to therapy.

He acknowledged he’s probably an avoidant in therapy not fully over his ex.

I should have left there and then, I know, but I didn’t. I waited to wake up the next morning with his strep throat. Because that’s what smart, independent women do when they are faced with an emotionally unavailable man: they cling on for dear life thinking they can perhaps salvage the situation.

I answered his questions about what I was looking for in a partner and in life but I know with certainty I didn’t answer according to his standards and that he probably mentally eliminated me then and there.

I was nervous, I actually liked him, I was in full blown ‘love me please’ mode so I must have said the wrong things and I seemed to eager and excited and made my life look way cooler than it probably is. No actually my life is really cool but ok.

He kept commenting how he felt like I would have no space for a relationship which is simply not true. Had I said too much?

The sadness my friends. The sadness of watching yourself self sabotage and knowing that in today’s cut throat dating scene there is no room for mistakes, one word out of line and they’re off to meet someone else.

To those of us dating, let this be a reminder to be a little bit more patient and a little bit compassionate to those around us. We never know how they are feeling…

That said, I know, I’m an idiot. After I spotted the signs of ‘maybe not ready yet’, I should have left.

Part 3: I downloaded Raya again

I know I promised myself no more apps. I HATE THEM.

It seems like most people these days also do — we have all realized that for the most part they do not work.

But also, let’s be honest — we’re old. And tired. And we DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO GO OUT EVERY FRIDAY AND SATURDAY NIGHT past the age of 35.

I’m saying 35 even though for me it was more like 28.

Not only do we have to go out, we have to be social humans, interacting despite the incredibly long work week we just had- and let’s not forget all of the other things we are expected to keep up with as successful adults:

Going to the gym
Knowing to invest
Financial independence
Looking good
Healthy sleep
Reading or learning
Being balanced and mentally healthy
Being there for friends
Being there for family
Being there for work colleagues and clients
Making sure our house is perfect
Eating healthy foods

Etc etc…

I’m tired, so I downloaded an app because I was home at 8pm on the Saturday night.

So I matched with another Portugese guy who lives in Lisbon. Let’s call him R.

This incredibly handsome man decided within the space of 3 minutes that I would be the love of his life and that he wants to marry me.

I really needed a bit of love bombing mixed in with hyperactivity and ADHD.

I really needed someone to tell me how wonderful I am and how fantastic our life was going to be. He told me the name of our future daughter, everything about his family, his likes, his dreams, his vision.

Here’s the thing about this man, it’s all about him.

I could easily not say anything because he is truly in love with the image he has built alone in his own mind of who I am and how our lives would be if we got married and had kids — as he put it: not a year from today, but now.

Yes, my friends, because I’m pretty sure we are dealing with a textbook narcissist.

I’m thinking since I’ve never quite written about narcissism before this could make for a great next chapter of pain and suffering or perhaps — and just perhaps- he’s simply crazy and it will work out?

Why chasing love makes us feel unworthy of love itself

Here is the truth about chasing people who make you feel like you’re not worthy of their love: at some point, you begin to believe it.

You try it once, you give it your everything, you go out of your way to show them how wonderful you are, what a great match you are, and in the process you loose yourself, you drown your inner voice, you desires, you insecurities, your ability to love, your mental and physical health, your love for life.

You disappear and begin to morph into a different shape: the shape of the monster of the other’s expectations.

You begin to sign up for activities you detest because they like them, you show up for his friends even when you’re exhausted, you pretend you’re in a good mood even when you feel dead inside. You laugh at jokes that feel offensive or useless and you make yourself just a little bit smaller to allow them to shine.

I have been looking for love for a long time, and although I have a clear and vivid understanding of the fact that we already possess the love we so deeply crave, that we need to keep building that relationship with ourselves, I struggle to reconcile it with my upcoming 39th birthday and my complete and utter singlehood and lack of children.

They say it’s just a projection of society’s inflicted vision that we should be married and with kids at this point in life, perhaps it’s true I’m not sure, but I feel it anyways. I know I’m not supposed to say it out loud but it’s genuinely the vulnerable truth.

Instead of making a life long plan of all the deep rooted changes I want to make in my life I think I will go with a one week experiment to being. I want to move from proving to being.

I will stop telling people about my love life, I will stop thinking of how I’m supposed to show up, and just show up as me.

Because I am enough.

Not perfect, but fully present.

I love deeply, I am kind to everyone and most importantly I work hard on myself to truly attempt to show up for others as the very best version of herself.

Perhaps it’s time I do the same for me — to show up as the best version of myself, even for myself.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.