Less than two weeks after joining the dating apps, I put them on pause. At 56, I had apparently underestimated the administrative side of romance.
I’d already been on four first dates. A second date was planned. Two more first dates were still ahead of me, and I was chatting with another three women who might turn into dates. These were all perfectly pleasant developments individually. Together, they were becoming a small department.
Then ordinary life decided to contribute. I met another woman at a bank meeting. I hadn’t realized the bank was competing with the apps, but its approach was refreshingly direct: put actual people in the same room and let them notice each other.
I’m in the Netherlands, with my search reaching across the border into Belgium and Germany. That gives me a wider area to meet people, although it also means my dating life now has more international reach than several businesses I know.
The interest hasn’t all gone one way, either. As far as who sends the first like, it’s been roughly half and half. I’ve reached out, women have reached out to me, and there have also been likes I declined. I haven’t even included those in the count.
Reading dating forums beforehand, I could easily have expected a very different experience. Some discussions make being a man on the apps sound like standing beside an empty road with your thumb out. So far, my problem has been finding space in the calendar.
I don’t know where any of these connections will go. Four first dates are four first dates, and a planned second date is still a plan. But the start has been good—good enough that I wanted to stop adding people while I caught up with the people already there.
So the apps are asleep for now. I still have dates to go on. Apparently, joining was the easy part.
