Thursday Thoughts: Dating in Your 30s (or Any Age) Is Not for the Weak

Let’s just call it like it is—dating in this era is a sh*tshow, and I don’t care if you’re 25, 32, or 57. Add a divorce, a few flings that fizzled faster than a $1 sparkler, and sprinkle in a heavy dose of social media chaos? Boom. You’ve got yourself a cocktail of confusion, ghosting, and unmatched expectations.

Since my divorce in 2019, I’ve pretty much kept to myself. Not because I wanted to be alone, but because the alternative has often felt worse. Sure, there’ve been a few “things” here and there—flings, situationships, two-week trial runs that crashed harder than my Mini into a trash can. I used to joke that I date like I’m taking new shoes out for a walk: cute at first, but uncomfortable in minutes and returned before the receipt crinkles. But real dating? Actually trying? Putting myself out there with vulnerability and hope? That takes a kind of strength they don’t teach you in therapy.

Let’s not even get started on social media.

Okay, let’s absolutely get started on social media.

The power of social media has ruined modern dating.Not all the way, but enough. Enough to make you question if connection is even possible anymore. Everyone’s either filtered into perfection or hiding behind vague statuses, cryptic stories, and a false sense of "being too busy to care." People treat real-life relationships like TikTok trends: here for a week, hyped like hell, and then forgotten as soon as the algorithm shifts. Dating apps? A hellscape of shirtless mirror selfies, one-word bios, and the ever-classic “WYD?” at 12:14 a.m. (Sir. Respectfully, the only thing I’m doing is watching Golden Girls in a hoodie and overthinking the last time I made eye contact in public. WYD?)

Now don’t get me wrong—I’m not bitter. Okay, I’m a little bitter. But I’m mostly tired.

Tired of starting over.Tired of telling my story just for someone to skim it like they’re scrolling past a recipe blog looking for the ingredients.Tired of “I’m not ready for a relationship” after three weeks of acting like they were.Tired of “you're amazing but…” (Just say you’re not interested and save us both the confusion.)

And the thing is… being single isn’t the hard part. I know how to be alone. I know how to fill my days with work, friends, pets, porch coffee, and soft evenings wrapped in music and healing. That’s not the issue. The issue is hope. Hope that this time it’ll be different. That someone will match your energy, communicate with consistency, and mean what they say. That maybe—just maybe—someone will show up without you having to explain what it means to be emotionally available.

If being lonely was just being lonely, I’d take it. I’ve made peace with my own space. I’ve learned to love my own company. Hell, I’m pretty damn good at it. But the exhausting part of dating now? It’s the mental gymnastics. The breadcrumbing. The performative interest followed by ghosting. It’s having to wonder if they like you, or the idea of you. It’s doing the math on every text, every lull, every meme they sent you with “LOL” but no actual effort to connect.

It’s not just hard. It’s war out here. Emotional war.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why so many of us would rather cuddle up with our dogs and a glass of wine or water than attempt another “let’s grab a drink” that ends in disappointment. We’re not scared of love—we’re just exhausted by everything that tries to pretend to be it.

So if you’re in the same boat, just know this:You're not alone. You’re not too picky. You’re not “hard to love.”You’re just waiting for the right kind of love to show up—one that doesn't require you to sacrifice your peace, overextend your patience, or abandon your self-worth for scraps.

And while we wait? We live. Loudly, freely, joyfully—because our happiness isn’t dependent on a “good morning” text or a plus-one to Sunday brunch. It’s rooted in everything we’ve learned about ourselves through the loneliness, the heartbreak, and yes—even the two-week flings that taught us more than they ever intended to.

So here’s to the brave ones still dating in the age of disappearing DMs and filtered emotions. You are strong as hell, even when it sucks.And if no one’s told you lately, you’re doing just fine.