Dating Apps: 2022 & Beyond

Let's call this edition Shit Tahlia Says.

Well, we’ve done it. To all my single friends out there, we’ve survived Christmas, also known as the horniest time of year.

I hope you’ve also survived it relatively unscathed (my elbow which I smashed on some pavement after one too many tequila shots begs to differ, but I’m glad I continue to make a stunning spectacle of myself every time I go back home).

Christmas this year definitely felt hornier than usual. Maybe it’s because it’s year two of the pandemic, maybe it’s because we’re all another year older and mildly panicking at everyone else on our Instagram feeds who seem to be getting engaged on Christmas Day. If I had a bingo card of strange men I’d hear from over the Christmas break I’d nearly have successfully completed it. A guy from high school who dumped me as a friend after I rejected him in Year 11? Tick. A former, short-lived fling who found me on Snapchat maps? Tick. The last guy I dated who circled back to wish me a happy holidays after weeks of no contact? Tick. An old interstate match who asked me to come visit and bring a “slutty” outfit? Uh, tick. A family member’s partner who told me I looked “horny” on Christmas Day because of the reindeer antlers I was wearing? Unfortunate tick.

Now, a big warning: I’m feeling quite reflective as I sit here at the end of another year, so if you’re here for funny screenshots I don’t have a lot for you right now.

Before we get into it, here’s a meme I enjoyed…

Starting this newsletter in April 2020, it was just a place to share screenshots and start some conversation about why everything on the apps just felt SO BAD. In December 2021, I want to thank those of you who have come on the journey with me as we’ve gone from bagging out pineapple on pizza prompts and begging everyone to give up on Myer-Briggs, and sticking with me as I went a little deeper than I ever really intended to when it came to my own journey into dating and relationships. Maybe it’s the pandemic, constant lockdowns, and learning not to take life for granted anymore, but somehow I feel more at peace when it comes to dating in the future. Writing this newsletter, especially in the lockdown of 2021 when I had a lot of time to heal my brain from the burnout of 2020, was quite therapeutic for me. So thank you for indulging me along the way. Every time someone messaged me to tell me they related to something, it helped me realise High School Musical was right: we really are all in this together.

Something I didn’t expect when writing this newsletter was that it’s given me a healthier perspective on love and relationships, which seems ironic for a newsletter designed to bag out the shit straight men say on the apps. I think spending so much time dissecting awful bios has made me really appreciate when there’s a decent guy right in front of me. And, look, hearing so many dating horror stories from people who have sent them in after reading certain newsletters makes me feel less alone and hopeless about love.

Which leads me to…

Dating apps: to 2022 and beyond.

I said to a friend yesterday that I’m sick of feeling negative about dating and future prospects, but it’s such a juxtaposition to the dating stories I then hear from people in my life. While I currently feel uncharacteristically optimistic for my dating future, the last few days I’ve had conversations with women who are being screwed over and it’s enough to start planting the seeds of doubt back in my mind. Sometimes using the apps makes me feel like we’re trapped in this endless cycle of fleeting hope that comes crashing down faster than you can say “add me on Instagram”.

There are a few things I’ve learned this year: every woman has a story about a British fuckboy. People are still ghosting each other brutally. Nothing good comes from Snapchat. Even to the most well-trained eye, the power of the softboi can be intoxicating. Chemistry does not equate to compatibility. Friends with benefits can probably only work seamlessly for a month. Good communication is rare. The dating pool starts to feel suffocatingly small as you get older. As you learn what you truly want and need in a partner, it starts to feel impossible to find. And I’ll probably still keep matching with softbois with guitars and be mildly surprised when their actions are the opposite of their words. But only mildly.

I’m not going to lie to you. I’m pretty over being on the apps. While in lockdown they’ve been an interesting way of getting to know people, there’s been a shift in the mentality of many single people I know since we exited lockdowns and moved into Living With Covid. Using apps now is a mixture of impatience and blatant disregard: people either want to meet up straight away because they’ve already wasted TOO much time talking on the apps over the last couple of years, or they’re on the apps but too busy to really put that much time into the usual mundane conversations (guilty!).

Where does that leave us for dating in 2022?

I’d like to hope 2022 is about more real-life experiences. While this newsletter will continue in a somewhat similar format, I’ve come out of the last two years with a clearer picture of what I want for my future and it’s not talking to people through a screen. I’m much more open to dating and finding a connection than I was two years ago, or even six months ago.

I consider myself lucky that I got to experience a fleeting dating app romance this year, in amongst the chaos of lockdown. While I’d say lockdown romanticised the situation and gave it a certain intensity that probably wouldn’t have happened in a “normal” world, it reminded me that the best way to connect with people is by letting your guard down and being yourself, and not the stereotypes we often find ourselves in. Since my last Big Breakup in 2017, I had really only very briefly dated people in and around the Sydney media/Twitter field. Being with someone who didn’t give a shit about that part of my life, and a part that I used to tie too much of my identity to, was freeing. Being able to be vulnerable and myself with someone too, regardless of it not working out, was also a step in the right direction in shifting my own fear mentality around dating and relationships.

I also think when you live in a big city, it’s easy to lose track of what you’re really looking for, which is why I often find myself connecting better with people who aren’t from Sydney. In a big city, it feels like you (and everyone around you) have all the options in the world, which is overwhelming, while also feeling like you never want to date outside of your usual inner city, inner west, eastern suburbs bubble because it gets difficult logistically. I think if there are any lessons we can take from the pandemic it’s that we’ve had enough restrictions placed on us over the years — I don’t know what my romantic future involves, but all I know is I don’t want it to be restrictive and I want to be open to future opportunities now that Australia and the world is (hopefully) continuing to open up, instead of getting too comfortable in my inner-city bubble.

I don’t see apps disappearing anytime soon nor do I see myself disappearing from the apps. But let’s just say my new year’s resolution is going to be a little more about connecting with people IRL and less about swiping left and right.

Never fear though, there’ll always be content. Turns out men still say weird shit regardless of whether it’s on Tinder or not. Personally, I can’t wait to bring you the speed dating edition of Shit Straight Men Say.

Stay safe over New Years friends, and thank you again for reading all my silly little thoughts this year. I hope you get to pash your crush at midnight.