I’ve been in the dating scene a long time, but I’ve never seen anything quite like what’s going on in 2025. It’s wild out there. People are more connected than ever, and yet it feels like nobody is truly connecting. I don’t know if it’s the apps, the expectations, or the constant pressure to be “on” all the time, but something’s broken. And I know I’m not the only one who feels it.

We used to meet someone at a party, have a drink, laugh at a dumb joke, and suddenly feel a spark. Now we’re swiping through hundreds of faces in bed like we’re ordering dinner. There’s no magic in that. Just filters, profiles, algorithms, and endless “hey” messages that go nowhere. It’s exhausting. It’s transactional. It’s empty.

Even when you do match with someone who seems great, there’s this weird dance we all do. Wait three hours before replying. Don’t double text. Don’t seem too eager. But also don’t seem too cold. Be vulnerable—but not too soon. Be funny—but not cringey. It’s like we’re all actors in this never-ending audition for affection, and nobody knows what role we’re actually trying to play.

Social media makes it even worse. You start liking someone and boom—you’ve already seen their vacation in Fiji, their perfectly plated meals, their gym selfies, their “good vibes only” quotes. You haven’t even been on one date, and you’re already comparing yourself to their curated highlight reel. It’s intimidating. It’s hard to feel like you’re enough when everyone else looks like a lifestyle brand.

And then there’s the fear of rejection. Not just the sting of someone saying “no,” but the way ghosting has become normal. One day you’re chatting all night, sharing your childhood traumas and favorite pizza toppings, and the next day—nothing. No explanation. No closure. Just silence. It makes you question everything. Were they even real? Did I say something wrong? Why is this so hard?

But here’s what I’ve learned, after one too many coffees with people who never called again and a few too many Friday nights wondering what I’m doing wrong: the problem isn’t just “out there.” It’s inside us, too. We’re scared. We’re tired. We’re burnt out from trying to impress, to perform, to protect ourselves from the sting of getting hurt. We’ve lost the art of just showing up as ourselves.

Dating in 2025 might be a minefield, but it’s not hopeless. What I’ve found is that the people who still care—the ones who are willing to risk the awkward silences, the mismatched expectations, the weird first dates—those are the ones worth holding onto. They’re out there. I’ve met them. They’re the ones who reply with a real message, not just an emoji. They ask questions. They listen. They laugh at your dumb jokes not because they’re polite, but because they actually think you’re funny.

So if you’re out there right now feeling like giving up, I get it. I’ve felt that too. But don’t. Take a break if you need to. Log off the apps. Go touch some grass. But come back. Because there’s still something beautiful about being seen by someone, flaws and all, and realizing they stayed anyway. We just have to cut through the noise, the games, and the fear to find it.

This is Dating Dave, still out here, still believing in love—one weird 2025 date at a time.