Take this: “I’m looking for a real connection, but I don’t give out my number before meeting in person.” Fair enough on its own. But then you learn they check the app once every three days, don’t have notifications on, and lose track of chats constantly. So what happens? Good conversations die mid-sentence. Not because of disinterest—but because they built a rule that chokes the very thing they say they want.
This isn’t about one person or one rule. It’s a pattern. We say we want depth, but choose the most superficial ways to reach it. We crave vulnerability, but punish people who are too direct. We romanticize serendipity, but swipe with the efficiency of a job recruiter. We say no games, but flinch when things move too fast or feel too honest.
Sometimes I wonder if we even hear ourselves. “I want something slow and meaningful.” But when it doesn’t spark in the first five messages, we unmatch. “I’m emotionally available.” But only for the version of you that stays light, fun, undemanding. “I just want someone who communicates.” But when someone tells us the truth—about their doubts, about the pace, about the fact that something doesn’t feel right—we call it too much, too soon, too intense.
We’ve turned dating into a game where everyone’s afraid to lose—so no one plays properly. We hold back, we hedge, we wait for the other person to go first. And when it all fizzles out, we say, “There just wasn’t a spark.” But maybe what’s missing isn’t chemistry. Maybe it’s alignment—not between us and someone else, but between us and ourselves. Between what we say we want, and how we behave. Between the kind of love we imagine, and the kind we’re actually prepared to let in.
I don’t think most people are lying. I think they genuinely want something real. But meaning it isn’t enough. It’s not about being “ready”—it’s about having integrity. Not in the moral sense, but in the structural one. The kind of integrity where your wants, your words, and your actions function like parts of the same system—built to work together, not against each other. Most of us are walking around with desires that short-circuit our behaviours, with rules that undermine what we claim to seek. That kind of misalignment doesn’t just stall connection—it prevents it entirely. Structural integrity takes work. It asks for uncomfortable honesty. But maybe that’s the only place something real can even begin.