Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places: The Online Dating Survival Guide for Women

So, you’ve boldly typed “Looking for love” in your dating profile and hit publish—as if the universe (or the algorithm) was just waiting for your declaration to send Prince Charming riding in on a lime green electric scooter. But let’s be honest: if you’re trying to find love on a dating app, you’re basically hunting for a diamond in a dumpster fire.

Here’s the truth that no one wants to say out loud—you’re not looking for love, you’re looking for WiFi-compatible chaos. These apps were built on the premise of fast swipes, short attention spans, and “accidental” likes at 2 a.m. You’re fishing in a sea full of guys who list their job as “entrepreneur,” which is just code for “I sell Pokémon cards and manifest rent.” The odds of finding your forever person on a hookup app are about the same as bumping into your soulmate while wearing a facial mask, sweatpants, and buying 14 cans of discount beans at Walmart.

The profiles you’ll scroll through? A mix of shirtless gym selfies, blurry car mirror shots, and dudes holding up a fish like it’s an engagement ring. You’re not browsing potential husbands—you’re window shopping in a clearance aisle of broken communication and ghosting champions. One dude doesn’t have a car. Another one still lives with his ex “for the dog.” Someone else tells you on the third message that he’s into “poly vibes and sacred cuddling.”

And don’t even get me started on the ones who open with “hey.” Just “hey.” Like your soul can be stirred by a monosyllabic grunt. Congratulations, Shakespeare—you really moved me.

The kicker? You’re paying for this circus. Real money. Your hard-earned cash is being used to unlock the privilege of seeing who “liked” you, which is usually a bot, a guy 40 years older than your dad, or someone who clearly cropped out their ankle monitor.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about hating people on dating apps. We’ve all been there, we all swiped right on a smile and ended up in a two-month talking stage that went nowhere. But it’s time to temper your expectations. Don’t go in looking for a fairytale. Go in looking for a story you can laugh about with your friends over wine. And maybe—maybe—you’ll get a free dinner and a glimpse of what human interaction used to be before the algorithm stole our souls.

But if you’re serious—like serious serious—about finding actual love, not just someone who sends 47 memes and then disappears like a fart in the wind, maybe it’s time to call in the pros. An old-school matchmaker. A real human being with a phone and a pen and standards. Someone who isn’t swiping on your behalf but screening. Who asks questions like “Do you have a job?” and “Are you emotionally available?”—questions the apps seem allergic to.

Look, dating apps are like fast food. It’s fine every once in a while. But if you’re looking for filet mignon, maybe don’t keep ordering the mystery meat nuggets of romance. Save yourself the drama. Save your energy. And for the love of Beyoncé, save your money.

Because if love does come from a dating app, congrats—you’ve just beaten the lottery. But for the rest of us? At least we got some hilarious stories and a solid excuse to drink on a Tuesday.