Why does modern dating feel like washing the dishes?
“Here we go again,” I sigh at myself as I stare blankly at my phone, Bumble reinstalled for the nth time.
There’s always this debate in my head: Should I put my digital footprint out there again, or should I spare myself from the guilt I feel every time I swipe left and right?
The truth is, I’ve never been fond of dating apps. Yes, I am a hopeless romantic (or should I say “was”). I grew up reading and watching rom-coms, chick flicks, Disney movies, teleseryes, you name it—everything that would make a young girl foolishly believe that finding true love would just happen naturally and effortlessly.
This is your sign to think twice before downloading that dating app (again).
But now, romance feels like it’s going extinct. We’ve gone from daydreaming about a life with our manliligaw to psychoanalyzing their every move, looking for red flags, and checking if our zodiac signs are compatible. Even having a crush seems like a full-time job. The kilig? Gone.
Dating nowadays has become like a chore. You don’t exactly want to do it, but you feel like you’re obligated to. What exactly happened?
Curiosity fatigued the cat
Dating used to be limited to people within your immediate circle: your peers, your friend’s friend, your neighbor, your workmate. But in a tech-savvy generation where most Filipinos are chronically online, convenience and curiosity often lead us to dating apps.
“It's so easy to meet people online,” Kacus, a 23-year-old dating app user, says. “But the downside is hindi mo kilala ‘yung tao, especially on an emotional level.” Profiles are designed for attraction, not connection. Sometimes, the only thing we truly know about them is their height (if that’s even true) and their dog’s name.
In a heteronormative setup, it used to be the man who had to make the first move. Now, anyone can initiate. Even Bumble was built on the idea that women message first (not until the new “opening move” feature ruined it).
Still, I can’t help but feel icky swiping on people like they’re products. To soften that feeling, we try to humanize these virtual profiles by striking up conversations. But let’s be honest, repeated small talk gets exhausting.
For someone like Andie, a 25-year-old dating app user, the fatigue stems from repetition: “Introducing myself over and over again feels like a chore. I don’t even like small talk.” Without a real connection, there’s no sense of obligation to stay in the conversation. It’s convenient, but eventually, we burn out.
Thank you, next
It’s flattering, an ego boost, no doubt, to have plenty of matches. You see all the fish in the sea, until you start feeling like you’re drowning in them.
A 2020 article by researchers Tila M. Pronk and Jaap J. A. Denissen says that having too many options creates a false sense of control. Instead of feeling empowered, users actually become less satisfied. We become more indecisive and pessimistic when faced with choice overload.
That’s the dating paradox: the more we have choices, the less we commit. “Minsan, we back out (of a connection) agad because we know there are plenty more options out there,” Kacus says. When we think it’s not worth the aggravation, we pull away immediately and move on.
But maybe the problem isn’t having options. Perhaps it’s the way we handle them.
In an article published in the journal Culture, Health & Sexuality, researchers Christine Marie Habito, Alison Morgan and Cathy Vaughan explored how technology reshaped Filipino courtship. Courtship used to be intentional, structured, even sacred. Today, it happens in an instant. As Western courtship spread to urban areas, a hybrid dating culture emerged: a fusion of tradition, modernity and Western practices, as researchers Jerry Ann Domini G. Atong, Bianca Louise C. Malizon and Audrie A. Viduya point out in their paper. But in the process, something essential was lost: patience.
“Traditional Filipino dating was built on patience,” Kacus reflects. “If gusto mo talaga ‘yung tao, you’ll really take the time to pursue them. Now, it’s so easy to replace people.” In a dating landscape overflowing with options, what we need is to date with more intention.
‘I’m focusing on my career right now’
Another harsh reality in this post-pandemic, inflation-heavy economy is that romance competes with finances. Even when there’s chemistry, many choose career over connection.
“Most people want to build themselves first before pursuing relationships,” Kacus says. “People want to enjoy their money before spending it on others.”
And he’s right. Even I won’t deny it, dates are expensive. You have to be financially comfortable enough to treat your date and pay your bills.
“You do have to build yourself up before you can really be fulfilled in dating,” Andie admits. “(I’m) not saying you can’t go on dates, but if you want it to be successful, you need to have your life together more in this economy.”
So what do we prioritize, love or stability? The hustle culture mindset tells us to choose ourselves first. But choosing ourselves for too long might also be the reason why we’re lonely.
Kaka-selpon mo ‘yan!
We’re chronically online, and it shows. TikTok made us painfully aware of attachment styles, subtle gaslighting tactics, and every red flag imaginable. I myself am a victim of overanalyzing every single interaction with the people I date.
Having access to that knowledge is helpful. Before, people might’ve been oblivious. But now, social media helps us identify what we want (and don’t want) in a relationship, even without experiencing it ourselves. “It’s nice that I’m more aware because I (get to) cut the trash more,” Andie says.
On the flipside, the internet doesn’t just warn us; it also over-romanticizes love.
“People are hyper-aware because of social media,” 25-year-old former dating app user Bella says. “But you can’t expect everything to be fairytale-perfect on the first date.” Social media often presents love as a one-size-fits-all formula. We see highlight reels and assume they’re roadmaps. But real connections are messy, and they require compromise.
Sometimes, you don’t swipe right on your dream partner. You build something real with a human being — one who’s figuring it out, just like you.
Is love still out there?
I open my phone again. This time, I delete the dating app for good (or for now).
Modern dating has become easily exhausting. It may be messy and confusing, but it’s still possible. Because even when we delete the app, hope has a way of staying. I guess romance isn’t extinct after all; it’s just really taking its sweet time.
Sure, some people you date breadcrumb, lovebomb, over-psychoanalyze your red flags, or don’t get your humor at all. But sometimes, you hit it off. And you feel it. That flutter, that kilig.
Because dating shouldn’t feel forced. And it most definitely shouldn’t feel like I’m washing the dishes.
