Dating today feels like walking through a mall of emotions.
People browse through hearts the way they browse through racks of clothes — touching, glancing, trying on, then walking away when the fit requires effort.
We don’t meet people anymore to connect; we meet them to compare. We don’t court; we consume.
Everyone wants to feel something, but no one wants to feel too much. People crave connection, but only the parts that are comfortable and exciting. The moment it requires vulnerability, accountability, or emotional consistency, they disappear. They pull back with the same tired line: “I’ve been hurt before.”
And that’s the beginning of the epidemic — the loop no one talks about.
Someone gets hurt. Instead of healing, they run. They move from one person to another, seeking quick relief instead of real repair. They get temporary validation — a good-morning text, a match notification, a weekend situationship — and call it connection. But what they’re really chasing is a dopamine hit, not intimacy. We scroll, we swipe, we match, we unmatch — high on the thrill of “new,” allergic to the weight of “real.”
We’ve become addicted to those short bursts of attention. A few heart emojis, a compliment, a late-night text — tiny doses of emotional sugar that give us a rush and leave us emptier than before. The brain learns to crave the high, not the human. So we keep scrolling, keep swiping, keep messaging new faces, convincing ourselves that this time, it’ll be different.
But nothing changes because no one pauses to heal. No one stops to ask why they can’t stay.
We’ve normalized detachment so much that emotional availability now feels rare — almost suspicious. When someone shows up with genuine intention, we call it “too much,” “too soon,” or “too intense.” We’ve rebranded fear as boundaries and called avoidance self-care.
The result? A generation that’s burnt out on love yet endlessly searching for it. Everyone wants depth, but they only swim in the shallow end. They say they want something real, but “real” doesn’t trend, doesn’t stimulate, doesn’t fit into an algorithm. “Real” requires patience — and
patience doesn’t sell.
So people keep hopping. They leave the moment something feels heavy, and in doing so, they turn the next person into someone like them — cautious, guarded, detached. And then that person does the same to someone else. The infection spreads quietly — one half-love at a time.
This is not dating; it’s emotional capitalism. People are products now. They’re browsed, compared, and abandoned when the novelty wears off. Everyone’s trying to find “the one,” but no one wants to be the one — the person who shows up, stays, and builds something lasting.
We tell ourselves we’re protecting our peace, but what we’re really doing is protecting our pain. It’s easier to blame timing than to admit we’ve forgotten how to love without fear.
And the saddest part? Somewhere deep down, everyone knows it. Everyone knows they’re lonely. Everyone knows that the thrill fades fast and that no amount of new faces can fill the same hollow space. But the cycle is easier than the stillness. The next text, the next match, the next almost-relationship — it keeps us distracted from how disconnected we’ve become.
We are not designed to live like this. We are not meant to treat people like experiments or hearts like entertainment. We are not window displays for others to look at, admire, and walk past. We are not products — we are people. Human beings with history, complexity, softness, and a need to belong.
So maybe the rebellion now is not in being the most desired person, but in being the most present one. Maybe love, in this generation, isn’t about grand gestures or forever promises, but about choosing to stay when the high fades — to stand still when the world is spinning.
Because being real in this culture of almosts is radical. Being consistent is rare.
And staying soft — when everything around you teaches you to go numb — that might just be the most courageous thing left.
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About
Born and raised in the bustling capital of Bangladesh- Dhaka, Umme Pritam has been in love with reading since childhood, which eventually led her to write fiction. In 2022, she published her debut novel Eiliyah worldwide. The novel explored themes of love, loss, and self-discovery, and since its release, she has continued to write fiction that centers quiet emotional truths and complex interpersonal dynamics. She is currently working on her second novel: Far away from the maddening crowd.
Now based in Canada, she remains committed to writing stories that cross cultural and emotional borders. The enclosed story reflects her ongoing interest in characters navigating identity, vulnerability, and the intricate relationships that shape their lives.
When she is not writing, you’ll find her having deep, long conversations with her friends, reading books and watching movies, or simply taking a long walk on the trail behind her house.
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