Gotta Catch My Feelings
Because swiping right won’t save you from existential dread.
I couldn’t help but wonder…
In the game of love, are we dating — or just digitally collecting romantic distractions like it’s 2016 and Pokémon GO just relaunched?
Because lately, dating doesn’t feel like a journey toward connection — it feels like a scavenger hunt in a virtual field of emotionally unavailable Pokémon. You open the app (Grindr, Hinge, whatever pixelated poison you pick), see who’s “around,” maybe even venture further if the algorithm gets flirty. You swipe, you tap, you “catch” someone — a match! A notification! A dopamine boost that fizzes like a Lush bath bomb full of promise.
But then… nothing.
We don’t message. We don’t meet. We don’t evolve.
We just log off, check back later, and see if someone new has spawned nearby — preferably six feet tall, gym-fit, employed, can drive and with a bio that doesn’t include the words “vibes,” “ick,” or “open to anything.” (Are you? Are you really?)
It’s exhausting. And exhilarating. And empty.
And yet, we do it. We hunt, we catch, we move on. We collect men like they’re rare holographic cards: “Oh that one? Yeah, we matched once. Never spoke. But he looked good next to my iced matcha.”
It got me thinking — maybe dating apps are Pokémon GO. But instead of “Gotta catch ’em all,” we’re stuck on “Gotta match at all,” just to feel like we’re not entirely alone on this gay little rock we call London.
But here’s the real gag: maybe the problem isn’t just the apps. Maybe it’s that we crave newness, change, growth — and we’re using dating to simulate that. It’s not about the connection; it’s about the shaking up of our routines. Swiping gives us that hit of “something new,” even if it’s just a man in Hackney who says he’s 29 but whose face tells you he’s lived through dial-up internet and the first Shrek.
Because whether it’s dating, jobs, or our go-to brunch spot at Compton Brasserie — we hit that 6-to-9 month bump. Everything’s fine, comfortable, “good enough.” But something inside itches. So we dye our hair peroxide blonde (call it your Real Slim Shady era), or you suddenly sign up to a new fitness club with a name like “Fit4Less” or “Sweat Sanctum.” Or, more drastically, you decide to move — not because you hate your flat, or the zone 4-1 travel time, but because your ceiling hasn’t collapsed in ...
We crave a plot twist. A main character moment. A dopamine hit. Something, anything, to cut through the static.
So we chase dopamine like it’s a limited-edition pop-up: a fleeting hit of validation from a shirtless Grindr match who says “you’re cute” before disappearing into the digital ether. A rush of adrenaline when we walk into a party in a new outfit and pretend not to scan the room for someone we have spoken to before, that instant hit after getting your bi-weekly fresh fade from your go-to barber — (Shout out Shorties) We do it all — not because we’re shallow, but because for one glimmering second, i...
But then the high fades. The fade grows out. The hot guy unmatches. The dopamine crashes. And we’re left holding the same overpriced iced matcha (Watermelon this time), wondering what to try next. Because the truth is: shaking things up doesn’t always mean shaking things off — Thanks, Taylor.
The Dating Era — when every good morning text feels like the beginning of something and every dinner date could be your last “first.” Where we mistake effort for interest and attention for intimacy, but go along with it anyway. Because hope — no matter how misguided — still feels better than nothing.
The Single Era — full of autonomy, bed space, and enjoying a nice G&T whilst watching the week’s latest Doctor Who at 7pm on BBC1 (not sponsored). Where you tell yourself you're thriving, even if some nights you go home thinking, "Well, that was cute… but what now?" And isn’t it funny how being single can feel empowering one moment, and crushing the next — depending entirely on whether Kylie Minogue (is there any other ‘Kylie’ really?) or Lana Del Rey is playing in your overpriced AirPod Max’s?
Maybe we’re not craving reinvention. Maybe we’re just aching to feel something. To feel like this next era might be the one that sticks. Even if the new era is really just a soft reboot of the last.
“After all, computers crash, people die, relationships fall apart... the best we can do is breathe and reboot.”
— Carrie Bradshaw