You see, the problem with dating is that I just don’t care; and dating when you don’t care is so much less exciting than being a mid-20 something with hopes and dreams for your romantic future.
About once a year, I reluctantly and shamefully re-download Tinder, only to be immediately disgusted by my decision. I’m not that motivated or interested in finding a romantic partner, but a girl needs to get laid once in a while. Now that I’m on the border of 30, this has become a lot more complicated, mostly because I know how it all pans out. Casual dating tends to turn into someone getting more invested than the other, and awkwardness and rejection ensues. I’m also not one for one night stands — like, at all. It’s all well and good if you’ve got a great friend who’s also open to benefits, but in my experience, that doesn’t come without its complications and should be avoided all together. And so alas, dating apps it is.
Being on dating apps is so uncomfortable. My potential connections either look too dateable or too douchey. If you go with too douchey (which I feel is the safer bet if you’re searching for a casual fling), you’ll wind up doing most of the chatting and will likely have to ignore the onslaught of blaring red flags. And if you go for the too dateable, one of you is going to catch feelings.
The real problem when it comes to getting laid? My standards are too high. I want to feel connected and socially attracted to the person I’m having sex with, but I don’t want either of us to be romantically invested. On the other hand, I can’t have sex with someone just for the sake of having sex. It leaves me in an uncomfortable limbo, untouched — yet untouchable.
I’m old enough now that I can exist as a somewhat sexually unsatisfied woman, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes yearn for a snuggle or two. This means I inevitably end up on one or another dating app once a year, grimacing and swiping left. I’m sorry Paul, 35, who likes long drives in his BMW, you’re a big-time texter, and I have real big issues with “text men” — left. Jay! You look so fun, super handsome, great pictures, but your button-up shirt and overzealous smile makes me think that you may be too well-adjusted for me — left. Summer, 30, beautiful smile — you look down-to-earth and sweet, but your seven different hair colours make me think you may be a little unstable and likely to get too attached; plus, you live in Bellingham — left. And so it continues: they mention Sydney Sweeney in their bio? Left. Jock? Left. A so-called “real man” who thinks that gender roles in 2025 are all twisted? Good god — left. Bellingham — left, and once again, Bellingham — fricking left. Why are they always in Bellingham?
I wish I could say that this ends in some sort of happy ending (pun intended), where I find the perfect person to casually hook up and hang out with, avoiding all this nonsense. Sadly, I still haven’t figured out how to navigate this awkward transitory time in my life. I swipe for an hour or two over the following week, only to wind up exasperated and delete the app. I’m once again back where I started, alone and mildly unsatisfied. But to be honest, maybe this is what I prefer. Sure, I’d love a prince or princess charming for a night or two now and then, but I think I’ll stick with the less confusing, trusty and reliable vibrator.
Darien Johnsen is a UFV alumni who obtained her Bachelor of Arts degree with double extended minors in Global Development Studies and Sociology in 2020. She started writing for The Cascade in 2018, taking on the role of features editor shortly after. She’s passionate about justice, sustainable development, and education.
