On a dating app, a man told me he was devoted to philanthropy work somewhere far, in this case, in Yemen. I had already chatted with a few men with this line of messages recently. If it were true, he would have much more important things to worry about than long-distance dating, which I wasn’t interested in. I was clear with the dating app: my dating radius was 50 miles, but I understood the apps were not omniscient if someone tried to game the filter. If it was a scam, I spotted the setup.
Dating apps are not designed to be used for a long time, like more than a few years. Eventually, over time, I saw most of the desirable matches for me in my area. Once in a while, I would be pleasantly surprised when someone new, most likely a recently divorced man or someone who just moved to Boston, joined the app and showed up in my feed.
Meeting new people was not a chore but using dating apps started to feel like it. As more people became familiar with dating apps, I found it harder to meet someone of my interest, and the pool of men grew to include anyone off the street.
The last draw broke the back. I matched with someone from Connecticut based on his profile who said he lived in San Francisco, bragged about his many real estates in New York City, and mistaken me for living in Brooklyn. Shortly after that, I matched with another man who had the same exact profile description as the first man. The scam alarm went off pretty quickly in my head. I grew uncomfortable with the increasing number of potential scammers on these apps.
I had to decide: Do I want to meet people through dating apps? The noises were louder than the signals. I decided meeting people without dating apps was the way to go, whether through some other types of apps or in person. I have outgrown the first and second generations of dating apps.
I felt lighter.
Love "I felt lighter."