Written by Amber Fuller, LMFT, Founder and Director of Fuller Living
Online dating, for me, has been equal parts hope and heartburn.
Some days it’s magic — a thoughtful message, playful banter, someone who actually gets me. Other days it feels like I’ve been dropped into the world’s largest rummage sale, digging through mismatched socks, chipped mugs, and broken promises, praying there’s something whole in here somewhere.
And lately… it’s been more rummage than magic.
One particular “someone” had me smiling at my phone like a teenager, laughing at inside jokes, and daydreaming about what it might be like to actually meet. He checked boxes I didn’t even know I had. And now… silence. Radio static. The tumbleweed scene from an old western.
I’m a therapist. I know how to reframe this. I know it’s not about my worth. And yet, here I am, heart in my throat, scrolling back through our conversations like I’m searching for the one line that sent him running.
My personal journey (a.k.a. the blooper reel I never asked for)
When I first joined the apps, I thought, Okay, I’ll just pop on, meet someone, and be done in a month. Oh, bless my sweet naïve heart.
Instead, I’ve met…
- The man who told me on date one that he had “just gotten divorced”… as in that morning. (Sir, this is not a rebound, this is a straight-up boomerang.)
- The guy whose profile said he was 6’2” but was eye-level with me in flats. (Height isn’t the issue… honesty is. If you’ll lie about inches online, what else will you lie about?)
- The one who seemed perfect on paper until I found out his “job” was playing video games for cryptocurrency tips. (I have a mortgage… Monopoly money won’t cut it.)
- The man who took me out for dinner and then said he “forgot” his wallet. (I hope he also forgot my number.)
And then there are the ones who sneak into your life with charm, kindness, and depth… and vanish mid-sentence like the rapture came for just them.
The hardest part? I’m not the type to juggle five conversations. When I connect, I connect. I learn his favorite coffee order, send a quick “thinking of you” text before his stressful day, and actually listen when he talks about his life. So when he disappears, it’s not just a screen going dark — it’s an investment of time, heart, and energy going poof.
The quiet that isn’t quiet
It’s never been quiet for me on the apps. My “likes” counter often hovers in the hundreds —at any given time.
Sounds flattering, right?
Except scrolling through them is like sifting through a yard sale where nothing fits and everything smells faintly of regret.
And this is where the spiral starts… If there are this many options and still no connection, is it me? Am I asking for too much?
Then I remember… wanting someone who shows up, treats me with kindness, and is emotionally available is not too much.
The fresh sting (where I got it wrong)
There’s a man… let’s just call him “Mister Unexpected.”
From the very first conversation, he made me laugh in that rare way where you’re not just amused — you’re delighted. He was quick, clever, and genuine. He didn’t just ask about my day, he remembered what I’d said the day before and followed up. He was the kind of man who could banter and be deep in the same conversation… which, if you’ve dated lately, you know is a unicorn skill set.
And then… I told him I couldn’t date right now.
The truth? It wasn’t about him. I’m just not in a place in life where my heart can manage the weight of building something new. I told him I needed more time. I thought I was being honest, thoughtful, even mature about it. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a pit in my stomach… because I knew the risk.
And I was right.
He’s gone. No angry words, no dramatic goodbye. Just silence. I don’t blame him. If I were him, I might do the same.
Now, I’m sitting here in tears, scrolling through our old messages, wishing I could take back that moment. Not because I suddenly have time to date, but because I realize what I let go of… a man who made me laugh every single day, a man who had that spark you can’t force or fake.
Regret is a strange grief. It’s knowing the loss was avoidable. It’s replaying your own words in your head and wishing you could snatch them back before they landed.
I hurt him, even if I didn’t mean to. And the hardest part is knowing I can’t fix it… I just have to sit with the ache, hope he knows I valued him, and trust that if it’s meant to come back, it will.
What the research says (because it’s not just me)
- About 3 in 10 adults have used dating apps, and for adults under 30, that number is even higher.
- About 1 in 10 partnered adults met their significant other online, nearly 1 in 5 for those under 30. Love stories happen… but they’re rarer than the “he sent me a bathroom selfie I didn’t ask for” stories.
- Nearly half of users have experienced unwanted behaviors, from persistent messages after “no” to name-calling, threats, and explicit photos. Women under 50? Even higher rates.
- Heavy dating app use is linked to higher anxiety, depression, and body image struggles. The constant comparison and uncertainty can be exhausting.
- Ghosting leaves scars, with 44% saying it lowered their self-esteem and trust in others.
Staying afloat in the dating swamp
The dating swamp will try to convince you your value is tied to matches, responses, and who sticks around. That’s a lie.
When it gets heavy, I remind myself… stillness isn’t weakness. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is pause, breathe, and remember that your worth existed long before someone swiped right on you.
Whether you believe in divine timing, the universe working things out, or simply the steady wisdom of taking care of yourself first, the truth is the same… you are already enough.
My sanity checklist for swiping
- App hours only — morning coffee, evening tea, no doom-swiping in bed.
- Move it off-app quickly — phone call or coffee within a week.
- One heart at a time — I’m not an open browser tab.
- Lead with values — my profile talks about what matters, not just how I look.
- Two unanswered texts and I’m done — block, bless, and move on.
- Body-image detox — follow people who make you feel good in your skin.
- Fill your real life first — friends, hobbies, family, nature.
If you’re here too
If you’re reading this with mascara smudged from a mid-day cry over someone who went silent… I see you.
Take the break. Take the nap. Take the apps off your phone for a bit. And when you come back, come back as someone who knows their value is fixed, not fluctuating with someone else’s attention span.
The right person won’t need convincing. They’ll lean in, they’ll stay, and they’ll make sure you never have to wonder where you stand.
Until then… keep swimming, keep laughing, and keep believing that the good will find you when it’s meant to.
PS. To Mister Unexpected
If you’re reading this… I’m sorry. I said I couldn’t date right now, and I know that landed like a door closing. I meant to be honest and kind, but my timing hurt you. You made me laugh every single day. You brought lightness into a season that was heavy. I am grateful for that. I respect your silence, I won’t chase, and I won’t minimize what we shared. If this is where our paths part, I’m wishing you peace and a love that feels like home. And if our paths cross again someday, I hope it finds us both a little steadier, a little braver, and ready.