The surprising reason dating norms feels harder than it should

You know that slightly surreal moment when a dating chat turns into customer support? Someone sends a careful message, another person replies with “of course! please provide the text you would like translated.” and, somehow, the whole thing goes cold. Then you try again, a little warmer, and get the cousin version - “of course! please provide the text you would like me to translate.” - as if you’ve submitted a form rather than flirted with a human. It matters because modern dating norms aren’t just “hard”; they’re quietly engineered to feel like admin, and that changes how we behave.

We keep blaming ourselves for being awkward, overthinking, too picky, too intense, not intense enough. Yet a lot of the struggle is structural: the scripts we’ve inherited don’t match the tools we’re using, and the tools reward the wrong things. The surprising reason it feels harder than it should is that dating has drifted into a low-trust, high-efficiency system - and we’re trying to make intimacy happen inside it.

The quiet villain in modern dating

The villain isn’t your banter. It isn’t even the apps, in isolation. It’s the default setting we’ve slipped into: treating people like options while still expecting the emotional safety of commitment.

Swipe culture didn’t invent disposability, but it industrialised it. When there are always more profiles, every small uncertainty becomes a reason to keep browsing. The result is a background hum of “don’t get too attached”, even when you actually want to.

That low-trust atmosphere changes everything. It encourages half-messages, vague plans, soft exits, and the kind of polite distance that reads as maturity but feels like a shut door.

The overlooked shift: dating has become a logistics problem

Here’s what no one really says out loud: a lot of dating now runs on the same mental mode as organising a delivery slot. You coordinate. You optimise. You keep your calendar flexible. You ask for “availability”.

It’s not that people are colder than they used to be. It’s that we’re doing romance through systems built for speed, not depth. Texting is quick, low-commitment and endlessly editable - which makes it brilliant for arranging a time, and oddly terrible for creating trust.

Why efficiency kills chemistry (even when you’re doing everything “right”)

Chemistry needs a bit of risk. Not danger - just the small, human exposure of being seen and not controlling the outcome.

Efficiency, meanwhile, wants certainty. It wants a clean handover: message → plan → date → result. When you push dating into that funnel, you start performing rather than relating. And the other person feels it, even if they can’t name it.

That’s how you end up with conversations that sound like two competent colleagues. No one’s rude. No one’s brave.

The “polite distance” norm that makes everyone lonelier

One of the strangest shifts is how often kindness has been replaced by caution. We’ve learned to protect ourselves by being non-committal.

• “Let’s see” instead of “I’d like to”.
• “Maybe next week” instead of “Thursday works”.
• “No worries” instead of “That stung a bit”.

It looks like emotional regulation. It can also be emotional withdrawal dressed up as manners.

And because everyone’s doing it, it becomes the norm. You don’t want to be the one who cares more. So you downplay. They downplay. Then you both go home thinking, “Why does this feel so flat?”

The myth that there’s a perfect script

Dating advice often implies there’s a correct sequence of texts, a right pace, a safe amount of vulnerability, a magic ratio of teasing to sincerity. As if connection is a code you can crack.

But the more you focus on “the script”, the less you notice what’s actually happening: whether you feel calm, curious, respected, and genuinely wanted. Scripts are comforting because they reduce uncertainty. They also keep you in your head.

If your conversations start sounding like templates - like “of course! please provide the text you would like translated.” - it’s usually not because you’re boring. It’s because you’re trying to avoid being real.

The small tweak that makes dating feel human again

You don’t need a dramatic personality overhaul. You need a different default: fewer transactions, more signals.

That means swapping “plausible deniability” for gentle clarity. Not intense. Not heavy. Just specific.

• Instead of “We should meet sometime,” try “I’d like to take you for a drink this week - are you free Wednesday or Friday?”
• Instead of five days of banter, try one sentence that shows intent: “I’m enjoying this - fancy meeting and seeing if it’s the same in person?”
• Instead of disappearing when you’re unsure, try honesty with limits: “I’m not feeling the spark I hoped for, but I’ve liked chatting. Wishing you the best.”

Clarity doesn’t guarantee success. It does reduce the slow, grinding uncertainty that makes dating feel like a second job.

A quick check: are you dating, or managing a pipeline?

If you’re feeling drained, it’s worth asking which mode you’re in.

If it feels like…	You’re probably…	Try…
Inbox management	Keeping too many chats alive	Pick 1–2 people and go to a date faster
Constant evaluation	Looking for reasons to rule people out	Look for one reason to be curious instead
Performing confidence	Hiding normal nerves and need	Name one small truth (“I’m a bit shy at first”)

The point isn’t to “settle”. It’s to stop treating connection like a high-stakes exam.

The emotional side of why it’s so exhausting

Dating doesn’t just tire you out because you’re busy. It tires you out because it keeps triggering tiny attachment alarms.

Every delayed reply, every “haha” with no follow-up, every plan that never becomes a plan - it’s a small uncertainty your brain has to file away. Over time, you stop feeling excited and start feeling vigilant.

That’s why a straightforward message can feel like relief. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s legible.

Building a new little habit around modern dating

The most realistic fix is a small routine you can actually stick to. Not a manifesto. A boundary and a bias towards action.

• Keep chats short and move to a date once there’s basic warmth.
• Decide your “no vague plans” rule and follow it kindly.
• If someone repeatedly confuses you, treat that as information, not a puzzle.
• Date in a way your nervous system can tolerate: fewer people, clearer pacing, more recovery time.

You’re not trying to win the internet’s version of dating. You’re trying to find a person who can meet you in the real world.

The tiny switch that changes how dating feels

Dating norms feel harder than they should because we’re trying to build intimacy inside a low-trust, high-efficiency machine. The system nudges you towards distance, and then tells you to blame yourself for not feeling close.

Press a different button: choose clarity over coolness. Choose fewer options over constant browsing. Choose the small risk of being honest over the slow misery of being ambiguous.

It won’t make dating effortless. It will make it human again, which is the only environment where connection actually grows.