I’m 32, work in tech, and I guess you could say I’ve always done decently in life—but not necessarily in dating.
I’m not bad looking, I’ve got a stable job, my own place, and a handful of hobbies I genuinely enjoy (think photography, solo hiking, and collecting niche Japanese whisky). But for the longest time, I just couldn’t seem to meet someone I truly connected with.
I’ve tried Tinder. I’ve tried Hinge. I even gave Bumble a shot. And every time, it was the same loop: dead-end small talk, ghosting after two messages, or conversations that felt more like pitch decks than actual human interaction.
Maybe it’s my personality—INTJ, for what it’s worth. I’m not shy, but I’m definitely not the “let’s just chat for the sake of chatting” type. I get along better in structured environments, with people who actually have something to say. Swiping endlessly never sat right with me. It always felt like a fast-food version of something that should’ve been slow-cooked.
At some point, I stopped altogether. I figured maybe dating apps just aren’t for people like me. So I focused on work, hit the gym more, and told myself that if it happens, it happens.
But a few months ago, a coworker mentioned he was using a smaller, more “intentional” platform. Not the kind you see in App Store charts. No celebrities, no billboards. Just…quiet. Curated. Values-first.
He said the people on it “weren’t trying to impress, just trying to be understood.”
That line stuck with me.
So I signed up—not really expecting much. The onboarding was different. Instead of ten selfies and a list of one-liners, it asked about beliefs, relationship expectations, and yes, even MBTI type compatibility. Honestly, it felt more like journaling than swiping.
But then something strange happened: I had a real conversation.
Not small talk. Not gimmicky banter. A real conversation—with someone I hadn’t even seen a full photo of yet. We talked about film scores, post-pandemic loneliness, and why neither of us liked brunch dates. It was refreshing. Disarming, even.
We met two weeks later. No games, no pressure. Just two mildly awkward, mildly hopeful adults meeting for tea in a bookstore café. And you know what? It felt…genuine.
It’s too early to say where it’ll go. But for the first time in years, I walked away from a date feeling like I’d been seen—not scanned, not judged, not filtered—just seen.
There’s a quiet kind of magic in that. And I wouldn’t have found it on a swipe.
If you’ve ever felt like dating apps weren’t built for people like you—maybe they weren’t. There are spaces where depth matters more than dopamine. You just have to look in quieter corners.
I’m not naming it here, but if you really resonate with this post… you’ll probably find it the same way I did.
