Every swipe is a small hit. Every match, a brief high. The apps aren’t built to find you someone — they’re built to keep you swiping. The dopamine loop is the product. You’re not the user; you’re the engagement metric.

You spend weeks building a person out of messages — their voice in your head, the wit you imagine, the way you think they’ll laugh. Then you meet, and the room tells you in thirty seconds it isn’t there. Chemistry doesn’t survive translation through a keyboard.

Conversations that read like cover letters. Bios crafted for an algorithm, not a human. Notifications that promise someone and deliver no one. Everyone is performing; nobody is present.

Dating became a feed. People became thumbnails. The most intimate choice in a person’s life now uses the same hand motion as picking a takeaway. The medium ate the meaning.