Dating Health Warning

Modern Dating Should Come With a Health Warning

I've always considered myself a reasonably resilient individual. Modern dating has certainly tested that resilience. I've had the unanswered messages, the vanishing acts, the odd wobble when I've questioned my own judgment, even my own self-worth. But I generally get back on my feet.  And that's why something has started to trouble me: not what dating does to me, but what I'm watching it do to other people.

We call it a dating game, which is interesting because nobody seems sure of the rules. I've been on the pitch long enough to know that sometimes you score, sometimes you concede, and sometimes you're not even sure you're playing the same sport. But I'm not offering commentary from the sidelines. I've taken a few hits myself, some rather more enthusiastic than necessary. And while I've managed to stand up, I'm watching others staying down, or worse, playing on whilst continuing to get injured.

Friends, acquaintances and people I meet socially tell versions of the same story. Conversations that abruptly end, promising connections that dissolve overnight, people who invest time, hope and a fair amount of emotional courage only to come away feeling worse about themselves than before.

For some, that's just another disappointment. For others, it's confirmation of something they've feared for years: that they're not good enough.  And the consequences aren't always fleeting. I've watched people question their own attractiveness, their judgment and their self-worth. Anxiety creeps in, confidence disappears, and what began as a hopeful search for companionship becomes another source of insecurity. Some carry those experiences into their next encounter, already expecting to be disappointed before anything has even begun.

And that worries me, because somewhere along the way, we've created a dating culture in which people have become remarkably comfortable with treating one another as disposable.

A photograph, a biography, a handful of messages.

Swipe, match, chat, disappear.

Next

It's as if we've forgotten there's a human being at the other end of that screen. Someone with feelings, insecurities, hopes and perhaps a considerable amount of courage invested in simply putting themselves out there.  Of course, nobody owes anyone a relationship, but surely basic human decency shouldn't be optional?

And inaction is still an action.   Silence still lands somewhere.

Choosing not to respond is still a choice. Disappearing without explanation might spare one person an uncomfortable conversation, but it can leave someone else replaying everything for days. And knowingly pursuing an emotional or physical connection when your intentions are not mutually aligned can leave behind a sense of hollowness and painful bruises – wounds others cannot see, and damage we can conveniently choose to ignore. And because we rarely see the consequences, it's become easy.

People get hurt, they become guarded and they stop investing quite so much. They learn to withdraw before someone else can withdraw from them, sometimes unintentionally doing to others precisely what was done to them. I don't believe this is exclusively a male or female problem. I've heard enough stories from both sides to recognise that both appear perfectly capable, and at times willing, to play this game with dodgy tactics. Both capable of being hurt and equally capable of inflicting hurt themselves.

And so the pattern repeats, the roles often reversing. The victims become the perpetrators.

The characters change, but the behaviour continues.

So yes, perhaps modern dating should come with a health warning.

WARNING: Prolonged exposure may cause anxiety, insecurity, diminished self-esteem, compulsive checking of your telephone and an irrational belief that you're fundamentally inadequate.

Side effects may persist long after you've deleted the application.

It sounds ridiculous, except I'm not sure it is. Because we're telling people to grow a thicker skin to survive, while asking them to remain vulnerable enough to fall in love.  Every disappointment adds another layer of armour, and eventually we're protecting ourselves from the very thing we're searching for.

I don't have a solution, but I do wonder whether we're taking the emotional consequences seriously enough, especially for those growing up believing this is simply how relationships work.  Because every interaction leaves something behind, and if we become too practised at avoiding being hurt, we might eventually forget how to let someone love us.

And if that isn't worthy of a health warning, I'm not sure what is.