I keep finding myself back on dating apps, in a quiet, hopeful way. Tinder (ironically), mostly. Hinge when I’m feeling slightly more intentional. Feeld when I want to remind myself that I am, in fact, single and not part of a pre-existing ecosystem of partnered people doing advanced-level relationship gymnastics.
I tell myself I’m there because I’m optimistic. Because I’m curious. Because I believe there is someone out there who can meet me where I am, and it gets lonely sometimes. As you know, I have been trying to date with more intention. I wrote recently about loosely following the Burned Haystack Method, which in my head I have rebranded as B2B, like I am running a very serious internal business strategy meeting with myself.
The premise is simple. Filter fast, but pay attention. Do not invest in people who immediately show you they are not aligned. In reality, it looks like this.
Swipe.
Match.
Immediate disqualification.
Repeat.
What I keep running into, over and over again, is projection. People project their desires, their relationship styles, their sexual preferences, and their expectations. And they do it quickly. Often, before they have actually read anything meaningful about the person in front of them.
If someone is a swinger, they assume you are too. If someone is looking for casual, they assume you are as well. If someone is used to a certain kind of dynamic, they enter the conversation already placing you inside of it. To be fair, I am not immune to this. I catch myself doing it sometimes. I try to notice it and correct it. A lot of people do not.
So what happens is this strange loop.
I am very clear. My profiles are not subtle. They spell it out. What I want. What I do not want. What is off limits. What I am actually looking for. And still, the first message is a pet name. Or something sexual, an invitation into a dynamic I have explicitly said I am not interested in. These are probably decent men. Most of them, honestly. But they are not paying attention and if you are not paying attention in the first five minutes, you are not going to suddenly become attentive later.
So I filter. Quickly. Sometimes ruthlessly. Feedback I’ve received is “you keep people away from you”, “you don’t give anyone a chance”, and “too independent”. And even when I know it is the right thing to do, it is still exhausting. Then, every once in a while, something breaks the pattern.
A more vanilla connection, which already felt like a shift for me. And it was good. We had real chemistry, with conversation that flowed, intellectual curiosity, a shared taste in music, and actual attraction. He smelled good, which feels like a ridiculous thing to highlight, but it matters, and he was thoughtful, present, and engaging.
On our third date, he brought me a bouquet of lettuce.
Yes. Lettuce.
Because I had mentioned that I like salad.
And it was charming. Truly. Unexpected, slightly absurd, and very specific. The kind of gesture that makes you feel seen in a small but meaningful way.
And still, it was a no.
By the third date, things started to sharpen into focus. He had just come out of a long, messy, on-again, off-again relationship. Not distant. Not resolved. Fresh. Close to the surface. There were moments when he talked about it, and his eyes filled with tears.
And this is the part that matters.
I wish I had known sooner.
Not on the first date. No one needs to unload everything immediately. But by the second, yes. Be a little real. Offer enough truth for the other person to make an informed decision about whether to continue.
Because if I had known, I would not have gone on the third date. I might not have gone on the first. Not because he is a bad person. He is not. He is actually a good person. But he is not in the same place I am. He was, whether consciously or not, oriented toward something lighter. I am looking for something intentional. Something with the potential to become a real partnership.
And somewhere in the middle of that, we both filled in blanks that were never explicitly discussed. He projected onto me that I might be open to something casual. I projected onto him that he was available for something serious. Neither of us said those things out loud. We just moved forward as if they were true. That is where things go sideways. The lesson is not complicated, but it is uncomfortable.
Ask more directly.
Clarify sooner. Do not assume alignment just because you want it to be there. I know myself. I know that I would have stayed to be “friends”.I would have been supportive, emotionally available, and present. I would have listened, held space. I would have stepped into that role easily, even happily.
And I would have built a story around it. That if I showed up enough, cared enough, stayed long enough, he might eventually see me differently. Choose me. Decide that I was the right one after all.
No.
I know that pattern. And I am not doing that again. It’s not fair to him or to me. I am not the woman you date before you find (go back to) your partner. I am not here to hold up a mirror so you can become ready for someone else. I am not the bridge between your past and your future.
I am the destination, or I am nothing at all.
Wow, this makes me so happy not to be in the dating scene. I’m not surprised so many don’t bother to read your profile. Much like reading instructions on putting something together, I think many men tend to act first, then think.
Your system is correct, you’re not looking for anybody, you’re looking for somebody. I have confidence you will find him.