Some nights, the date-iverse is too much to handle.
Scratch that.
MOST nights of seeking a genuine connection via dating apps in 2025 are uninspired.
I have reached the point where I don’t visit the Kmart clearance rack of poor punctuation and shirtless shenanigans unless I receive a notification. (Hmm, wonder if I can assign an ominous tone to it 🤔) But, I digress.
In four days, my subscription to Chapter 2 (a site specifically for widows and widowers) will expire. I shan’t be renewing. Not that I have anything against the site; I’m just, well, tired.
Four days until the finish line.
Still plenty of time for interested suitors to come a-callin’.
So when a message popped up, I took a gander at his profile.
Scott.
Nice-looking Scott.
Normal-message Scott.
Potentially trustworthy Scott.
But… Utah Scott.
For the love of GPS.
My reply was polite.
“Thank you, but 1,600 miles isn’t conducive to building a relationship.”
His response, also cordial, carried the aroma of snowflakes, cocoa, and Hallmark. ❄️☕️💕
“If two hearts connect, no distance is too far.”
Sir. I am 55 years old. Driving down the street to Kroger is too far. 🚗🤷🏼♀️
As humorous as “Men without Maps” can be, the truth is —
It makes me sad. I find myself sitting here contemplating if a long distance friendship could be possible. But then I ask, what if he’s another scammer with a decent grasp of grammar?
That right there — that exact emotional seesaw — is the honest human cost of dating in 2025.
It’s not just frustration.
It’s not just annoyance.
It’s not even the exhaustion of dodging Keith Sweat disciples, and men whose job title is “Boss at Self-Employed.”
It’s the sadness beneath the snark.
That little ache of:
“What if he’s real?”
versus
“What if he’s not?”
Ladies, if you’re rowing in this boat too, listen up:
You’re not soft for thinking it.
You’re not foolish.
You’re not naïve.
You’re human.
You’ve lost real love.
You’ve lived real life.
You know what connection feels like — and how rare it is.
So when someone shows up sounding…
normal,
kind,
respectful,
gentle,
and not shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror …
your heart can’t help but tilt its head a little.
Because part of you wants to believe a good man might still exist — even if he’s 1,600 miles away, even if he’s just a pleasant blip in the algorithmic chaos.
But then?
The reality of dating in 2025 barges in wearing a name tag, shouting:
“SCAMMER! FLUNKED GEOGRAPHY & CARTOGRAPHY! TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!”
And you’re left in limbo between hope and heartbreak, without ever having met the man.
It’s the quiet sadness of:
“I don’t want to be played. ”
“I don’t want to be disappointed.”
“I don’t want to waste emotional energy.”
“I don’t want to be fooled.”
“But… what if he was just nice?”
It’s the emotional equivalent of standing at the window watching birds —
one might be beautiful,
but at any moment it could squawk, steal your fries, and fly away.
Still…
there’s something tender in you wanting to believe in friendship.
That’s not weakness.
That’s wisdom wearing softness.
That’s a heart with miles on it — but still open enough to feel.
© 2025 Heather Nicole Kight – Menopause & Malarkey. All rights reserved.
Menopause & Malarkey 