Tinder, Bumble, Hinge… Apparently, I’m the Sugar Daddy. Different Apps. Same Men Waiting for Flowers.

Sneakers & Stilettos

I used to think the problem was the dating app.

Maybe Tinder was too casual. Maybe Bumble would be better. Maybe Hinge would introduce me to someone who could hold a conversation and make a dinner reservation in the same week.

So I changed apps. Updated pictures. Rewrote my bio. Different platform, fresh optimism.

And somehow, there he was again.

A grown man waiting for me to sweep him off his feet.

At this point, I’m wondering if I should show up with flowers, compliment his outfit, and ask his father for permission to take him to dinner.

Because apparently, we both want to be courted.

The apps have different names, different colors, and different ways of introducing you to strangers. But in my experience, they keep delivering the same little mystery: Why match with someone if you have absolutely no intention of speaking to them?

Are we dating? Collecting? Building a digital vision board?

I open the app and see a row of handsome faces sitting there in silence, like decorative pillows. Nice to look at. No contribution to the conversation.

Then there’s the man whose profile says he wants a woman who “knows what she wants.”

I do. A man who says hello.

Apparently, that’s where our compatibility ends.

And yes, I can reach out first. I’m confident. I can flirt. I can ask questions and suggest a place. I have no problem showing someone I’m interested.

But there’s a difference between making the first move and discovering that you have accepted a full-time position managing the entire connection.

I say hello. I ask about his weekend. I find something in his profile to talk about.

He responds:

“Good. You?”

Wonderful. I’ve matched with an automated receipt.

By the third question, I’m conducting an interview for a position he doesn’t even seem interested in filling. All that’s missing is me asking where he sees himself in five years.

Probably still in my matches. Waiting for me to book us a table.

Then comes my favorite:

“When are you taking me out?”

Sir.

Is this playful flirting, or am I about to be financially responsible for your salmon?

I can appreciate a joke. But when the joke arrives after I’ve initiated every conversation and kept it alive with sheer determination, it starts sounding suspiciously like a business proposal.

And I already have a job.

I spend enough of my day following up, coordinating schedules, and trying to get people to respond. I would like my romantic life to involve slightly less business development.

I don’t want to send a follow-up email after a flirty message.

“Hi, just circling back on our potential chemistry. Please let me know if you have any questions before we move forward with dinner.”

Although, honestly, a signature and an onboarding form might speed things up.

What makes this frustrating is how little I’m actually asking for.

I’m not expecting a limousine, a violinist, or a man standing outside my window holding a speaker over his head.

A thoughtful message would be lovely.

A question that shows he read my profile.

An actual invitation: “I’d like to take you out. Are you free Thursday?”

I might need to sit down if that happens. From the shock, mostly.

And once we’re talking, I want to participate. I want to flirt back, make him laugh, and make him feel wanted. There’s something exciting about two people giving each other reasons to keep showing up.

But it’s hard to build that excitement when one person is doing all the showing up and the other is occasionally typing “haha.”

Somewhere along the way, being laid-back seems to have become an excuse to contribute absolutely nothing.

Everybody wants something organic, but nobody wants to water it.

Everybody wants chemistry, but apparently I’m supposed to bring the entire laboratory.

And everybody is “seeing where it goes.”

Well, sweetheart, with this level of effort, it’s going directly into the archive.

I know there are men who initiate, make plans, and follow through. This is about the ones I keep encountering—the ones who seem interested enough to match, but never quite interested enough to do anything with it.

After enough of those conversations, you stop getting excited about a notification.

You start wondering whether this one will ask you a question or simply announce that he’s at the gym.

Again.

Congratulations on chest day. Any chance we could also exercise your conversational skills?

So, yes, I’m still open to meeting someone. I still believe a good date can begin on an app. But I’m paying much more attention to what happens after the match.

Does he show curiosity? Does he initiate sometimes? Does a conversation turn into a plan?

Because I can buy my own dinner. I can take myself somewhere beautiful. I can even buy flowers on the way home.

What I’m looking for is someone whose interest I don’t have to imagine.

Until then, I’ll be over here in my sneakers and stilettos, resisting the urge to send my matches a bouquet.

If we’re both waiting to be wined and dined, at least one of us is going to get hungry.