Alright, here’s the honest truth: I was wildly skeptical about online dating. The idea of uploading perfect photos and crafting a bio that makes me sound effortlessly cool? Nope. It felt like trying to sell myself in a digital supermarket full of overly confident strangers holding fish in their photos and flexing gym selfies like trophies.
To me, online dating was like ordering pizza but getting random toppings you didn’t ask for. I figured I’d be ghosted, judged, or worse—bored. So I avoided it. For years.
But then came one Saturday night, a glass of wine (okay, two), and my best friend who was determined to fix my love life. She waved her phone in front of my face and said, “Just give it one week. If you hate it, delete it.” I sighed dramatically, opened the app store, and took the plunge.
My profile setup was minimal. A decent selfie, nothing over-filtered. I didn’t lie about my age or say I hike every weekend (because I don’t). My bio? “Lover of strong coffee, sarcastic memes, and bad decisions that make good stories.” It felt honest—and slightly defensive, which was kind of my brand at that point.
Within minutes, the messages started rolling in. Most were some version of “Hey ?” or “You up?” at 2 a.m. One guy said he liked my “vibe,” whatever that means. Another asked if I believed in aliens. (Spoiler: I didn’t respond.) It was a lot of noise, and I was this close to bailing.
Then he messaged me.
He didn’t say anything cheesy. He didn’t ask what I was wearing or tell me I had “nice eyes.” Instead, he brought up a book I mentioned in my profile—one that hardly anyone notices. “Hey, I didn’t know anyone else loved that novel. The ending wrecked me. Did it get you too?” That’s how it started.
The conversation just… flowed. We weren’t trying to impress each other—we were curious. We talked about our worst first dates, weird childhood fears, and which fictional universe we’d live in if we had to choose. (He picked Middle-earth. I picked Stars Hollow. Still a point of contention.)
Within a few days, messaging him became the best part of my day. By week two, we were voice chatting at night and sending each other goofy selfies. I found myself looking forward to hearing from him more than I’d expected. It wasn’t fireworks or some dramatic rom-com moment. It was calm, steady, warm.
Three months later, we were doing nightly video calls, talking each other through work drama, and sharing playlists. When we finally decided to meet in person, I was both excited and absolutely terrified. Would we click in real life the same way we did through a screen?
Spoiler alert: we did.
We met at a cozy café halfway between our cities. When I saw him walk in, I got the same feeling I did reading his first message—familiar, curious, calm. We hugged like old friends and talked for five hours straight. No awkward silences, no expectations. Just us, exactly as we’d been all along.
Since then, we’ve gone on weekend trips, met each other’s friends, and binge-watched all the shows we used to talk about hypothetically. He still brings up that book from my profile sometimes, like it was a breadcrumb trail that led him to me.
Of course, not everything has been perfect. We’ve had our weird moments—like when we tried cooking together over FaceTime and I nearly set off my smoke alarm. Or when he made me watch a horror movie and I had to sleep with the light on. But the foundation we built in those early online conversations has made everything stronger, funnier, and more real.
If you’re reading this and rolling your eyes at online dating like I used to—I get it. It can feel superficial, awkward, and exhausting. But sometimes, buried under all the swipe fatigue and ghosters and cringe bios, there’s someone who actually sees you. Someone you’d never meet at your local coffee shop or grocery store. Someone who’s worth the mess of it all.
Moral of the story? Online dating scrambled my mind, challenged my patience, and made me question my standards. But in the end, it gave me something pretty incredible: a connection I didn’t think was possible in this swipe-happy world.
So if you’re still on the fence? Take the leap. Laugh through the awkward bits. And maybe—just maybe—your story starts with a message about your favorite book too.
