I really don’t think dating apps are for the purpose of dating anymore.
No, seriously. What exactly is their function at this point? Because if you ask me, they’re like digital platforms where women willingly enter, hoping for love, and instead, get bombarded with audacity in different fonts.
Now, like every single woman alive, 2025 greeted me with some unsettling thoughts:
"I think I need a boyfriend." "But I’m an independent woman." "But I want a man to take care of me too." "But I don’t like being told what to do." "But I want to rant to my man, tell him my problems, and get mad when he offers logical solutions, because does he think I don’t have a brain?" "But I want to tell someone about the absolute nonsense that happened at work today, and whether he cares or not, he must listen."
And the list goes on.
So, one fateful day, in the sacred council of my girl group chat, I brought it up. “Ladies, maybe I need a boyfriend.”
And the next logical solution for a woman who has forgotten what the day skies look like or how socializing feels like was, “JOIN A DATING APP.”
Now, I had heard of these apps before, obviously. But had I ever given them real thought? Absolutely not. Because what do I look like? A contestant on Love Is Blind?
But peer pressure is a real thing, and before I knew it, I was downloading an app and setting up a profile. You know the rules:
Keep it casual, act like you’re just vibing, not actually looking for something deep. But at the same time, set boundaries, so nobody mistakes you for that kind of girl. And most importantly, prepare for chaos. And chaos, my dear, is exactly what I got.
One of the first men I matched with seemed normal enough… until he hit me with, “Hey, send me a full-body picture. Just to confirm you don’t have a BBL.”
…Excuse me?
I blinked. Read the message again. Blinked some more. Because surely, I was seeing things.
When I asked why, he said he had sworn never to date a girl with a BBL.
First of all, brother, who do you think you are?
Second, why do men behave like women get surgery for them? As if we’re sitting around, planning our lives around their preferences? Yes, some women do it for attention, but what if she just wanted clothes to fit her better? What if she was insecure? What if it was just her money and her choice?
This was the first red flag. But it was also just the beginning.
Another guy slid into my messages, and barely ten minutes into the conversation, he hit me with:
"So, can you cook? I can never marry a woman that can't cook."
Oga, relax.
It wasn’t even the question that annoyed me, it was the timing. I mean, I didn’t even know his last name, and I was already supposed to prove my wife credentials? Was this a job interview? A CV submission?
Like, can I at least get to know you before I start reciting my personal recipe for jollof rice? And let’s be honest, half the men asking this question can’t even boil water without supervision. Still, I wasn’t completely done with the app. Yet.
And then, there was him. Let’s call him Mr. Smooth Talker. This one was good. His texts were a perfect balance of charm, wit, and humor. Our conversations actually flowed. And unlike the others, he wasn’t moving mad. I thought, Okay, maybe, just maybe, this app has one decent person.
Then, one evening, he dropped the message.
"I’ve been watching you. You have the body. You’re exactly what we need."
Huh? We?
"I’m an agent," he continued. "I find girls for exclusive clients. You’ll make good money, trust me. And of course, you and I will date too. So after four or five gigs, we’ll stop and build our future together."
…I beg your pardon?
This man really saw me, a whole human being, and thought, “Yes, let me offer her a fast track into premium prostitution. Also, let me throw in a relationship package so she knows I care.”
At that moment, I knew I had seen enough. My ancestors whispered, It’s time to go.
I deleted my profile. Uninstalled the app. Restarted my phone just to purge any lingering bad aura.
And just like that, I was back to where I started.
Moral of the story? Dating apps are not for dating. They are digital amusement parks for men who think common sense is a luxury item. At this point, if my future husband exists, he’ll have to find me the traditional way, by a divine intervention, fate, or a ridiculously cute meet-cute where I drop my groceries and he helps me pick them up in a totally kdrama way because why not? And that's if he even sees me outside.
As for now? I’m back to being an independent woman who wants a man but also doesn’t want a man. And honestly? I think I’m okay with that, I think.