As modern humans, we live the Paradox of Choice without really being aware of it. We have a myriad of choices on a day to day basis, and if we don’t like something, there is always another option. You’ve heard the term, “Don’t settle in relationships” right? Well the fact that we have so many choices, especially in online dating, allows many people the option of never settling…for anything. Let’s dive in to this.

My husband left me in June 2020. It was an awful time for me, after 10 years married, to have him look me in the eye and tell me he never loved me. We were in the middle of a global pandemic, and here I am, a 35 year old mother of two kids, a business who’s doors were temporarily closed, and a serious need for companionship that, quite frankly, I hadn’t had in a long time.

Insert online dating. What could go wrong?

First, there were way too many options to choose from, and each one had their own stigma attached to it. I started on Bumble, which I heard was the app that lets women choose who to date. A female friendly app seemed like the best choice for me at the time, but it wasn’t the only choice. And since I was new to it all, I welcomed options.

Next was Hinge, the dating app whose marketing campaign boasts that it’s the app “designed to be deleted.” It was the “best” according to a recently divorced friend. At the time, there weren’t any questions I knew to ask him about why it was the best. I just downloaded the app, got to swiping. (I learned later that each app will cater to a certain kind of dater, but that’s work for another blog post.)

Then Facebook got me hooked, showing me their new dating widget where you’re matched with people NOT in your current friends list but you can see who your mutual friends are. It felt “safer” because they had to have a Facebook page and they couldn’t catfish as easily there, could they? Hm.

Match could be an option, having been a website that’s been in existence for longer than the others; however, I quickly learned that because it’s been in existence longer, the choices of dates on there had also been in existence longer. Older, mostly un-datable choices that led with long, wordy messages and ask right away to meet up for wine. Not exactly my jam, and the interface seemed less user friendly than the others.

There’s Tinder, which I’ve been told is the site where people just go to hook up, have sex, and ghost. I was appalled…this is a thing? What is ghosting anyway? (Basically for all you lucky ones who’ve never been ghosted…it’s when someone is interested in you but one day just stops all contact with no explanation, essentially becoming a “ghost” to you.) I had a lot to learn, but I tried Tinder briefly and quickly deleted it because unfortunately, the rumors were true. Way too many unsolicited pics.

Who am I kidding? There were unsolicited pics on every app, coming from every direction.

Having been with the same man since 18 (and the person to whom I lost my virginity) and all of a sudden having a flood of private parts in my cell phone was…jarring. Nothing I couldn’t handle, with my quick southern wit and Italian directness, but nonetheless, it was something that I couldn’t prevent, no matter how hard I tried.

Maybe hard wasn’t the right word choice there. But I digress.

And in all fairness, let’s also address the elephant in the room. No way was I “over” my ex. Was that fair to those I was attempting to date? Probably not, but I didn’t really know any better. I was blinded by my need for companionship and the need for someone to look at me without all the pity and sadness that I could see in the eyes of those closest to me. It was like they recognized that my whole life just blew up and they thought that maybe, at any moment, I could blow up too. I just needed one of them to take me out. How hard could it be?

Really, really hard. Oops, there I go again.

Fast forward to today. I recently met my high school boyfriend for drinks. Zeke has always been super intelligent, very opinionated, and relatively sure of his perception of the world and his place in it, even as a high school senior. He was incredibly kind but also incredibly intimidating because his brain operates like it’s been alive for much longer than his body.

I’m sure we didn’t “work” as a couple long term because we are vastly different in the way we want to spend our lives. The mutual respect is still there though, and it was great to have intelligent adult conversation with someone who, again, didn’t look at me with pity.

I asked him why did he think after all these months of online dating, that it was still so difficult to secure a first date? Even a second date with someone that seemed promising was eluding me. Why was I having all these issues? I am an intelligent, compassionate, empathetic woman. I’m not ugly or unfortunate looking. Yeah, I had kids (and trust me, that’s a serious deterrent for some). But surely, someone would be cool with all that and spend some time with me, right? So why then wasn’t it working?

He then began to describe the Paradox of Choice as it relates to online dating, and the thought blew my mind.

The Paradox of Choice – Why More Is Less is a book written by American psychologist Barry Schwartz in 2004 and explores the theory that Americans have more choices than ever before and, arguably, that they do not benefit from it psychologically. Zeke then described it to me in these parameters:

Think about it in this way. You want a maroon sweatshirt. You go to the store, where there’s 15 sweatshirts to choose from. One of them is maroon, you like it, put it on, and check out. Done. But in the world of online dating, there’s 200 sweatshirts, 15 of which are maroon in various shades and colors, and everyone is trying on all the sweatshirts at the same time.

There’s too many choices, and the likelihood of stopping at one sweatshirt before trying on the next is slim. What if the next sweatshirt is a better one? What if I like that one better? This one feels perfect, but there’s all these other choices. I should try those out too.

Then he said this: Jessica, you are not meant for online dating.

I knew he was right. I am someone who can narrow down the 200 sweatshirt options quickly by sight. Then I’ll select a few to feel out while settling on one to try on. But that sweatshirt, also choosing me, makes me think that I’m a good fit too…until they’re back in the pool of sweatshirts, questioning their choices, and wondering if the next shopper is the one to go home with.

There was definitely a pun intended there. Sometimes the sweatshirt goes home with a shopper but returns themselves to the store the next day. Or, they never actually left the store to begin with, though the shopper thought they’d paid full price.

I’ve fallen victim to the Paradox of Choice as it relates to online dating so many times it’s ridiculous. During initial conversations in the apps, many men make it very clear that they want sex first (but kudos to you for clear communication), and then dating if the sex is “good.” If the conversation does get past the app and into texts, most of them sneak in sexual innuendo to see if I’ll play along. I’m smart, so I can be aloof while still playing into the game, but it gets exhausting always playing cat and mouse.

If we progress into phone calls or FaceTime/video chat, then I’m praying the whole time they don’t “accidentally” show me they don’t have clothes on or play with themselves on camera. And then if I get a first date (which frankly is harder to get than backstage passes at a Queen concert with all original band members present, knowing full well they aren’t all alive), there’s all this pressure to make things physical right away.

Now here’s the catch 22 – if you sleep with them right away, that’s it.

You’re done, and they’re 99.9% not going to call you again. If you don’t sleep with them, they have all these choices to go back to, so they’re 99.9% not going to call you again.

Some people I know have been very successful with online dating, even meeting someone they eventually married. Maybe they are much better than me at playing the game. Maybe they were lucky to meet someone good, who didn’t swing their privates around in a show of power. But I, having only been in this game for six months, is not good at it. Nor do I want to be.

I never made myself available to choice. I settled down with my boyfriend, lived together, got married in the Catholic church. When there were issues, the only way to get through them was to talk them out, compromise. Never in my mind was there a choice to leave – there was no abuse, no cheating, no vow was broken. For me, the only choice was the man I married – there was only one maroon sweatshirt.

My ex husband, however, considered his choices and decided that going back to the pool of sweatshirts was better than mending the one that he had. In fact, I am certain he felt this sweatshirt was beyond repair or too difficult to mend, that he was never really fond of maroon and was wondering if he should have always picked a different one in the beginning.

In his mind, there were choices (stay or go; my wife or another woman; try to live up to my commitments or escape, to name a few), and the fact that choices existed made it difficult to stay and mend the sweatshirt he had.

The paradox of choice didn’t always exist. When my parents were younger, people didn’t just wake up one day and leave their marriage as often as they do now. It wasn’t an option (one could argue that they would spend years “unhappy” and all that, but that’s talks for another day). There was one or two brands of milk. One school to go to. One church. You get the picture.

But now, we have so many choices in all things that it begs the question…Is the ability to choose really giving us the freedom we think we need? In the world of online dating at least, my answer is no. Too many choices isn’t exactly leading you to a love match in the grand scheme of it all. And at the end of the day, maybe you’ll try on 10 different sweatshirts (many with makeup still left on the collar) and leave the store with nothing but a burning desire to watch Bridgerton with a glass of wine.

At least then, when it’s hard, you know you won’t be disappointed when it’s over.