Dating Apps, First Dates and Leaps of Faith
An excerpt from my journal on relationship anxiety, social connection, and loneliness
After being on dating apps for almost 2 years on and off, this year in October, I finally decided to take online dating seriously and met someone in person after first interacting with them on an app. The idea of meeting a stranger online goes against every survival instinct that one develops as a woman living in Delhi. Not only that, I was definitely hoping to meet my first serious partner more “organically.” But as I talked to more and more couples around me, I started noticing a trend. The answer to “How did you two meet?” increasingly became a one-word answer (Bumble, Hinge, and some other obscure apps I had never heard of) than long-winded stories. More recently, a graph on how couples meet in the US made the rounds on social media, showing a steep incline for online dating. All of this made me re-evaluate how I think about romance.
One research study shows that 76% of women and 83% of men on dating apps have met in person with someone they first talked to online. And 17% of men and 24% of women haven’t met anyone [study by Healthy Framework, 2024]. For the longest time, I was in the second category, using the apps only to “check out what it’s like,” matching and never talking, or talking only for a few days before suddenly losing interest for some reason or the other. The truth was that I never considered the apps as a serious way of meeting people; my disdain and pessimism were always blocking my way. But that changed this year. After coming back from a short trip to my hometown, where I was living in a joint family, with all my cousins only a few years older than me getting married and having families of their own, I suddenly became aware of the lack of social connection in my lonely, city life.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the city. I love having my own room, my independence, the luxury of city life, and the more modern ways of living, as compared to the life the village affords to my extended family. I could never live by the rules and social norms of that town. But the first few days of coming back to your single occupancy room after 2 weeks of living at your family home does leave you feeling a bit, well, alone. My room suddenly felt quiet. This was also a time when my college had just ended and I was looking for jobs. With no busy life to return to, the emptiness clanged loudly in my head. So, I re-downloaded Hinge, but this time, with a firm resolve. I thought of all the couples I had met in the past year; I thought of how loved I felt during my hometown visit, and I told myself that it was possible for me to experience that love here, too, outside of my family, for the first time.
Within a week, I matched with someone, started talking, and then exchanged Instagram IDs with them. A few days later, I met them at a cafe in the nearest mall. Did it feel like a crazy idea? Yes, because I had never done it before. Did I spiral before going? Yes, I am a woman living in one of the unsafest cities in the country after all. Did I do it anyway? Yes, because so many of my friends had done it, and if they had been fine so far, then maybe it’s worth taking that leap of faith. So that is how I went to that first date. As someone who had never dated before, little did I know that relationships will all be about taking those little leaps of faith every step of the way.
As of today, it’s been 1 month of seeing this guy. I am happy to report that it has been going well so far. But I am, at my core, an anxious person, and I have on multiple occasions penned down all my uncontrollable thoughts as a way of finding relief, every time he took too long to text back or didn’t respond the way I had imagined him to. Below is an entry I made into my notes app when I was debating calling him when he didn’t text me at his usual time:
I might be thinking about this incorrectly, but moving towards social connection is, so often, the very thing that makes us feel lonely. I've never felt loneliness in my own company. When alone, I am content. Because I have everything that I could possibly need. And what i don't have, i don't need. But whenever I reach out to others, the gap between me and them seems untraversable. I've never felt lonelier than when I expect someone to be there. When I hope someone to be there. But it's not their fault either, because no amount of closeness feels enough. So the expectations are always rising, and my anxiety always growing. It's a vicious cycle. For example, I spent the entire day waiting to make a call at night. But when nightime came, i was hesitant to make the call, afraid of being overbearing perhaps. Or afraid of rejection, because nothing really stings like a no, does it? [Sidenote: I need to get better at hearing Nos.] It's in that chasm between having someone around but not right beside you that it hurts. Then perhaps its not the reaching out that feels lonely, but the lack of it that does. When I have no one, who am I going to reach out to anyway? You can only reach in. But then you will never move. And staying stationary is not my agenda right now. Maybe I've just grown used to the loneliness that comes from being alone, hence not recognizing it. How would i, if that's the only thing I've ever known? But that pain (if there is one) is a familiar one. This. This is new. And I'm afraid of finding out what I need, because it will be proof of all that I don't have. It makes me feel...not enough. But the good news is that I have the means to get all that I need, as long as I'm willing to face it. Ask and you shall receive is my new motto. It's something I'm trying to get used to.
I like this entry because I started with a negative proposition, “reaching out for connection making me feel lonely,” and my uneasiness with this new and unfamiliar sensation is quite apparent. It made me want to crawl back into my self-isolating ways and delude myself into thinking that I don’t need anyone. But somewhere in the middle, I find my way, and by the end, I realize that it is not the lack of people around me that causes the feeling of being alone, but the constant undermining of my own needs that does so. It’s not the “No” that stings but the self-rejection and never asking for what you want in the first place. With this understanding, I hope I find the courage to ask for more in the future. I hope I learn to silence the voice in my head that calls me “greedy” every time I ask for something. I hope I learn to find the balance between my two needs: attachment and independence, striving and satisfaction, of my id and superego. And I hope you will join me on this journey of finding out.
That’s all for today. Thanks for being here!
Yours,
Shreya