The Swipe Right Era: A Dating Pandemic

I’ve been thinking about a question for a while: how can we have so many ways to meet people and still struggle to build a meaningful connection?

We can reach for our phones, open an app, and start looking. Swipe right. Match. Say hello. Start a conversation. Then do it again.

There is always the possibility of someone new.

I wonder whether that constant access has changed more than how we meet. Has it changed how much we are willing to invest once we meet someone?

That is what I mean by “a dating pandemic.” I’m using the phrase to describe a pattern I worry about: chasing the excitement of a new connection, then moving on when the person in front of us becomes real.

The excitement of someone new

There is something exciting about those first conversations.

You’re learning about each other. The flirting comes easily. You look forward to seeing their name on your phone. Every message offers another little discovery, another reason to smile, another possibility.

At that stage, there is also a lot you don’t know.

You haven’t seen how they handle a difficult week. You haven’t worked through a misunderstanding. You haven’t had to navigate competing schedules, family responsibilities, or the parts of their history that still affect them.

There is room to imagine what this person—and a relationship with them—could become.

That excitement is a beautiful part of dating. My concern is what happens when we keep starting that process with someone new while an existing connection is trying to develop.

You’ve been talking to one person for a few weeks. You’ve gone on a couple of dates. There is chemistry, and you want to see where it goes.

But the apps are still open.

Another match comes in. Another conversation starts. Someone else makes you laugh. Someone else wants to know about your day.

Now you’re getting to know one person in real life while experiencing the excitement of several others through your phone.

When real life enters the conversation

Eventually, the person you’ve been seeing starts to reveal more of their life.

Maybe they have children, and spending time together takes planning. Maybe they have a health issue. Maybe a difficult relationship with an ex complicates things. Maybe they are carrying grief, financial pressure, or experiences that make trust difficult.

Perhaps you simply have your first disagreement.

Whatever it is, the connection now asks something of you. It requires patience, communication, flexibility, or an honest conversation about whether your lives fit together.

Meanwhile, the newer person on your phone is still easy to talk to.

You haven’t had a disagreement with them. Their schedule hasn’t inconvenienced you. Their responsibilities haven’t affected your plans. You know the version of them that exists in those early conversations.

And suddenly, the grass starts looking greener.

But are you comparing two people fairly? Or are you comparing someone you are beginning to know with someone you still get to imagine?

The newer person has a complicated life too. You just haven’t reached that part of the conversation.

Leapfrogging connections

This is the cycle I keep coming back to.

A connection starts. It feels exciting. You begin spending time together. The person becomes more familiar, and their real life becomes more visible.

Then another conversation feels easier, fresher, more promising.

So you move toward it.

For a while, the excitement returns. Until that person becomes familiar too. Until their responsibilities, struggles, and imperfections come into view.

Then there is another match.

Another beginning.

Another opportunity to feel that honeymoon high.

I think of it as leapfrogging connections: moving from one promising beginning to the next without giving many of them enough time or attention to develop.

From inside that cycle, it may feel like you keep meeting the wrong people. Sometimes, that may be true. But I think we also have to be willing to ask whether we are leaving whenever a connection begins to require effort.

If the thing we enjoy most is the beginning, what happens when a relationship needs us to stay present beyond it?

The person on your phone hasn’t been tested by life

Imagine you’ve been seeing someone for two months.

You enjoy being together. They’ve made an effort. You’ve started building trust. Then they have a hard week. Their child is sick, work is overwhelming, and they are quieter than usual.

At the same time, a new match is sending funny messages and giving you plenty of attention.

It would be easy to think, “This feels better.”

And in that moment, perhaps it does.

But the new connection hasn’t had to survive a hard week with you. You don’t know how that person communicates when exhausted. You don’t know whether they follow through, how they respond to disappointment, or whether you can work through a disagreement together.

Those things take time to discover.

I worry that the constant availability of new conversations makes it easier to overlook what someone has already shown us in favour of what someone else might offer.

We can end up walking away from a person who has been caring and consistent because someone unfamiliar is more exciting today.

Having options requires honesty

I don’t think matching with multiple people is automatically wrong. Early dating is a time to explore, and one good conversation does not create an obligation to commit.

People also want different kinds of relationships. Some want monogamy. Some want consensual non-monogamy. Others want casual dating or are still figuring out what suits them.

What matters is being honest about what you want, what you have agreed to, and what you can actually offer.

There is a difference between openly dating several people and letting someone believe you are building toward something while you quietly keep looking for their replacement.

There is also a question of attention. Even when nobody has broken an agreement, how much can a connection grow if we are constantly distracted by the possibility of another one?

At some point, investment means making room for the person we say we want to know.

Effort needs judgment

Of course, staying longer is not always the right answer.

Some connections are incompatible. Some people are dishonest, disrespectful, controlling, or unsafe. Nobody should feel pressured to remain in a relationship because leaving might look like giving up.

Dating is partly about discovering when something does not fit.

But there is a meaningful difference between recognizing incompatibility and losing interest because another person has ordinary human needs.

Children are not a character flaw. A health condition does not make someone less worthy of love. Having a painful past does not mean a person cannot build a healthy relationship.

We all have circumstances another person will need to understand. We all have days when we are less charming, less available, or harder to read.

If we expect someone to accept our humanity, we should examine how we respond when theirs becomes visible.

What are we actually looking for?

I think this is where the honest questions begin.

Do I want to build a relationship, and do my choices reflect that?

Am I losing interest because we are incompatible, or because the initial excitement is settling?

Have I communicated what is bothering me, or have I already started investing in someone else?

Am I giving this person a fair opportunity to be known?

Would I be comfortable if they approached me the way I am approaching them?

These questions can be uncomfortable because they ask us to look beyond the people we match with and examine our own behaviour.

It is easier to say dating is terrible than to consider whether we have developed habits that make connection harder.

Giving something room to grow

I don’t believe deleting an app magically creates a healthy relationship. But I do believe there comes a point when our actions need to support our intentions.

If you want to explore a promising connection more seriously, talk about it. Be clear about expectations. Consider whether continuing to swipe is helping you make a thoughtful choice or simply keeping you occupied with new possibilities.

Give yourself the chance to discover what happens when the conversation becomes less polished and more honest.

There can be value in reaching the stage where someone knows you’ve had a difficult day without needing a clever message. Where you can disagree and still feel respected. Where excitement is joined by trust, familiarity, and the confidence that someone means what they say.

Those things rarely arrive in the first conversation. They need time, attention, and participation.

My concern with the swipe right era is that we can become so attached to the feeling of possibility that we struggle to make room for an actual person.

We keep looking for someone whose complications we haven’t met yet.

Then, when we meet them, we start looking again.

I wonder how many worthwhile connections end there—at the point where the fantasy begins to give way to a human being.

Because everyone we meet will eventually become real.

And if we want something meaningful, we have to decide what we are willing to do when that happens.