I’m 22 and currently single.
When I’m not single, every relationship seems to end in disaster, heartbreak, or a vow to swear off men for an indefinite amount of time.
So tragic is my love life, my mum takes great joy in comparing me to Bridget Jones, and, being a serious journalist (extra points to anyone who gets that), I need a sensible, serious boyfriend.
It seems Mark Zuckerberg has been listening as I moan and gripe about the perils of online dating and my past relationships, because the situation came to a head the other night.
As I scrolled through Reels, an ad popped up for – wait for it – an AI boyfriend.
I am deadly serious. I was worried about ChatGPT coming after my job, but it seems eligible bachelors should have been more concerned.
I decided not to take up the offer, but I can’t say it isn’t tempting after spending an evening swiping through Hinge.
Dating, I believe, is a minefield nowadays.
Luckily for you readers, I’m in my Carrie Bradshaw era and am ready to tell all.
In order to date someone, you have to meet them first (if they are an actual human, not a robot).
Back in the day, you’d only do this by going out and bumping into a sweaty stranger in a club or agreeing to a drink at a bar.
While this option is still there, it’s far less common.
Personally, I don’t tend to get hit on in nightclubs very often. This is my own fault, though, as I dance unashamedly on whatever floor has the ‘worst music’ (top marks for ABBA) and sing at the top of my lungs.
I am a strong believer that if you care what you look like in a club, you’d never have any fun.
I might one day fall into the arms of a white knight while out and about, but by far the most common way to date now is online.
Every one of my single friends is on at least one dating app.
I am currently on Hinge. I’ve tried Bumble too.
Tinder is another, but I was permanently banned from it at 17 for lying about my age. Whoops.
I’ve been on and off them before, but I have one deep hatred which halts any budding romance in its tracks.
The talking stage.
‘Hey, how are you?’, ‘I’m good, what about you?’, ‘I’m good, thanks. What are you doing today?’
Blah blah blah.
Now, don’t get me wrong, some people have good chat. I tend to only reciprocate that banter if it comes my way.
But you first have to talk to and bin off all the mind-numbing conversations to find those people.
I also think someone can be an interesting person in real life, but come across as incredibly boring over text.
How much is there to talk about when you’ve never met them before?
The obvious solution to this problem is to set a date right away.
However, I’m not one to meet a random guy alone when I’ve not at least spoken to them for a few days to try and check they are not a total weirdo.
Some online chats have made it into an in-person meet-up.
Many have been nice, but no connection.
One guy with hair like Sonic the Hedgehog told me to move my drink away from an innocent group of men vaguely in the area, who were all much taller than him.
He didn’t respond when I let him down gently the next day, but months later, randomly replied to my Snapchat story to say: “No one gives a f*** what you’re doing.”
If you’ve made it this far, you’re probably thinking, ‘Millie, you’re the problem.’
I agree with you.
Hopefully, one day I’ll find Mr Right, but worst comes to worst, there’s always collecting cats.
