Surprisingly well — until they didn’t. In the spring of 2018, while drowning in dissertation deadlines, I found myself unexpectedly drawn into the world of online dating — initially as a distraction but eventually as a deeper exploration of how patriarchy has infiltrated and manipulated modern romance, all under the guise of “sexual freedom for women.” This is the debut story of questioning dating in the 2020s, love, modern romance, fe/male friendships, and marriage.
From PhD Procrastination to a Swipe-Right Revelation: My First Encounter With Online Dating Apps
It was a typical spring day in 2018, and I was on my lunch break with some colleagues. After a quick round of doctoral research updates, one of them started talking about her first date from the night before. Then, she mentioned another first date… and another one. Naively, I asked how she managed to meet all these guys in Berlin. My mind was stuck in the bar-and-club scene, but she had a solid answer: a dating app. Wait, what? Do these apps actually work? I had heard that Tinder was basically a swamp of bad dates. She quickly corrected me: “No, not Tinder.”
That weekend, lying in bed with a case of the thesis blues, I couldn’t shake our conversation about online dating apps. I wasn’t necessarily looking to date — I just wanted a distraction from the endless grind of typing up my PhD research. What was the name of that app she recommended? And how did she describe it while flashing a thumbs-up? “OK, keep it!”
A quick Google search later, and voilà! I was on OkCupid within minutes. The app asked me a series of questions designed to match me with someone compatible. In just an hour, I started receiving likes. I made a deal with myself: If I got more than 20 likes, I’d subscribe. By noon, I had nearly 50. Hooked, I paid for the app and dove right in.
When you’re living alone, racing against a dissertation deadline, and teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown, dating apps like OkCupid can be a surprisingly effective way to boost your self-esteem. Back then, the dating scene on these apps was different — there was less emphasis on sexuality and more on genuine connections. As the months rolled on, my relationship with OkCupid evolved from a mere distraction to an integral part of my weekend routine: helping to cope with the solitude and stress of dissertation life, blending seamlessly into my daily routine like a virtual coffee break with strangers and selecting the one(s) to meet on Sundays.
A PhD, a Swipe, and a Sunday Social: My OkCupid Routine
The spring and summer of 2018 marked an intense period of dissertation writing. My life revolved around one goal: hitting “500 words a day.” To stay on track, I decided to dedicate six days a week to working from home, leaving Sundays for much-needed social interaction. OkCupid quickly became my favorite procrastination tool. When I wasn’t busy staring at my thesis, I was diving into the world of online dating. I’d settle in at my desk by 9 AM, but every so often it took hours to really get into the writing flow. During those in-between moments, I’d scroll through profiles and strike up conversations. By Sunday, I was ready to meet new people as if my academic future depended on it — because, let’s be honest, sometimes it felt like it did.
Soon, I noticed a pattern: I was matching with people just to comment on their bios — sometimes to challenge patriarchal terms, other times to drop a quick lecture on gender equality. Was I being silly? Perhaps. But in the isolation of academic life, these interactions offered a connection to a world beyond my research — a world where I could assert my strong feminist beliefs, even if it was just through a dating app. Long story short: OkCupid wasn’t just about dating; it was about keeping my mind sharp and my social skills intact, all while trying to navigate the last stretch of my PhD journey. But soon, OkCupid — and other apps—led me to reshape my approach to dating.
The “No Strings Attached” Era: Lessons from Casual Dating
My first OkCupid dates made one thing clear: serious dating could bring more problems than it solved. For instance, I didn’t even know if I’d still be in Berlin after finishing my PhD. So, I was upfront: I wasn’t looking for a relationship — just a ‘friendship with benefits.’ But calling out all the anti-feminist racism I encountered didn’t help my dating life. Eventually, I met someone whose expectations matched mine: no sleepovers, no emotional attachments. Perfect! But our honeymoon phase didn’t last long. His girlfriend (they were in an open relationship) left him for someone new, he lost his job, and then the pandemic hit. I offered to be pandemic buddies, but he would rather not settle down and instead tried to manipulate me to feel powerful. #RedFlag
After getting vaccinated, I returned to the dating apps. I tried all the old and new ones on the market. Over time, I noticed that each app targeted a different audience, but at the end of the day, it was all about the community they offered. I experimented with OkCupid, Tinder, Feeld, and finally, Pure. Spoiler alert: It’s the same community on each one. But the pandemic did bring one significant change: the normalization of nude requests from guys.
Whether or not you’re into nudes is a personal choice, requiring a broad, separate discussion, but that wasn’t why I eventually deleted all the dating apps. After COVID-19, it felt like no one cared about anything except “new sexual experiences.” Meaningful conversations had vanished. People weren’t interested in getting to know each other anymore — they just wanted to “get each other.” Maybe it’s just Berlin, where the city motto seems to be “freedom for everything — so you should try everything.” Or perhaps it’s a global shift, but somewhere along the way, the essential conversation part got lost. After several disappointing attempts in late 2021, it hit me with another fact: dating apps had been co-opted by patriarchy. Men were enjoying ‘free sex’ without feeling accountable, all while claiming to support equal sexual liberation. And that’s how we ended up with new dating lingo like ghosting, benching, lovebombing, and situationship. I’ve experienced them all — I know how they make you feel (fooled).
@datingship: The Final Swipe in My Dating App Journey
After years of swiping, chatting, and navigating the often murky waters of online dating, I realized that @datingship can be a publication where my journey with dating apps indeed culminates. Whenever I was telling a story of a date with a mansplainer or a hidden misogynist, I was told one thing: you should write about them. I wish I could, but it was challenging to keep dating while complaining about it. Now, after being dating apps sober, it’s time to share those experiences and raise questions about the underlying issues that these apps regularly perpetuate — misogyny, patriarchy, racism, and the misleading ‘romance in the 2020s’ keeping us hooked. Whether it’s exposing the harmful dynamics or discussing how dating has evolved (or devolved) over time, @datingship is here to dissect it all, including marriage. My fav topic to criticize. #AllTheSingleLadies
