I promised myself and readers that I’d be open and honest when it comes to writing about my dating life. Over the past few months, I’ve found it helpful to write out the thoughts and questions I’ve had while getting to know Caleb. At some point, though, there came a shift. 

I felt a need to protect what we’re building. My last personal post came out in August. Since then, I’ve wrestled with what to share next. Caleb is the kind of person who makes friends wherever he goes. A personable extrovert, he works in an industry that allows him to travel often and befriend people along the way. I’ve met so many new faces through him. 

His friends read this column, and my crew reads each piece, too—so, you can see where this can start to get tricky. “I’d never ask you to stop writing the column because of me,” Caleb said once. “This is how we met.” He’d also be the first to share how proud he is of this Unhinged community that we’ve built together—you, the readers, and me.

That’s all to say that I’m a little nervous this week as I dig into a topic that we’re still working through as a couple. But conversations with friends have proven that today’s topic is one many couples have had to work through (or are currently wrestling with): How important is it for partners to share the same lifestyle and social needs?

I love getting into bed at 9 p.m. every night, and while I used to head into the Gaslamp decked out in heels and tiny dresses in my 20s and early 30s, those days are long behind me. I prefer daytime drinks now, and even then, I can only handle a few (hangovers are two-day affairs). A perfect weekend day for me involves sunshine, a workout, tons of great food, and time to socially unwind from the week.

Caleb, on the other hand, has been a roadie for touring bands for the last 15 years, working his way up from loading and unloading equipment to directing concert video. You know those massive LED screens that project the concert for the whole arena to see? He’s the one behind the scenes, deciding when each camera’s shots get mixed into the main feed. He’s used to being up late, doesn’t have a standard work schedule, and only gets to see friends when he’s home for a few days at a time. So, he likes to make the most of his time at home in San Diego.

Sometimes, that looks like late nights drinking with his friends, watching football indoors all day on Sundays, and keeping a jam-packed schedule of events on the weekends. Neither lifestyle is right or wrong. They’re just different.

We had the big conversations early on in our relationship—marriage, kids, religion, whether we both planned to stay in San Diego—and we aligned on most of these things, which is why we chose to keep seeing each other. What I didn’t expect, though, was how often our lifestyles and social needs would come into play in the day-to-day. Maybe that was naïve of me—but it’s never really been an issue in previous relationships. 

Lately, my social calendar has been packed with birthday parties, trips, weddings, and weekend activities, mostly with his group of friends. It’s been fun and exciting, and his buddies have welcomed me in so kindly and graciously. But introverts need to recharge. My social battery feels more drained than ever, and I wonder how long I can keep going without the downtime I need to regroup each week.

Caleb is asking himself similar questions. As an extrovert who loves his circle, can he be with someone who may need to skip out on social events occasionally, or someone who asks to leave parties early when he’s still enjoying his time out?

We haven’t figured it out yet. But it’s there, this lingering question. As I sat down to write this week, I asked my colleague and SDM Associate Editor Amelia Rodriguez for her thoughts on the subject.

She’s been with her partner for two years. They moved in together about a year ago and are excited to get engaged sometime soon. In the past, Amelia has dated women with very different lifestyles and social needs from her own. She considers herself an extrovert, though she values sleep and taking time to reset, and she isn’t much of a drinker or partier. 

“I think vastly different social needs were a big part of why several of my previous relationships didn’t work out. I hated feeling cooped up inside with more introverted partners, but when I went in the opposite direction and dated an outgoing bartender, I rarely saw them—they couldn’t do early mornings, I couldn’t do late nights,” she says. “Another more extroverted fling drank… a lot. I couldn’t match her energy, and the fact that her drinking made her forget details of our dates that I remembered left me feeling lonely and sad.”

When she first met her now-partner, they didn’t have much in common when it came to shared hobbies or interests. Amelia likes art museums, poetry readings, and ice cream shops. Her lactose-intolerant girlfriend, on the other hand, was into soccer games, breweries, and camping. 

“But we shared a similar love for being out in the community, and as we introduced one another to our favorite things, it became clear that doing something together was more important than what the thing was (though she still hasn’t managed to get me to camp),” she says. “Some couples I know are really comfortable having fairly separate social lives and different lifestyles, but that wouldn’t work for me, personally. Of course, we spend time apart—alone at home or with our own friends—but the fact that, pretty much every weekend, we’re excited to plan something interesting to do together makes the occasional ‘you go; I’m too tired’ no big deal.”

This all makes sense to me, though it does still leave me with questions. For one, a good man is hard to find (at least in my own experience), so I’m worried that I’m overthinking our lifestyle differences. Caleb has so many qualities that I want in a husband. Is it a deal-breaker if his life never slows down? Would I be okay having a big portion of our lives be separate in order to make sure we both feel happy and fulfilled while together?

In the next column, I’ll be chatting with others and enlisting the help of relationship coaches, therapists, and experts in dating to find out what they can share about this topic. And I want to hear from readers. Do you and your longtime partner have different social needs? If you’ve dealt with these same questions, drop me an email at [email protected] and let me know how it’s played out in your life.

*Caleb is a pseudonym.

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

Sign-up now for the Unhinged newsletter launching this month. Get exclusive content, Q&As with Nicolle, and subscriber-only meet-ups!

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One night, at a bar in South Park, I saw a tall, indie-rock Viking sporting a canvas tote bag and decided that this progressive-leaning, vinyl-collecting man was going to be mine. Within minutes, he introduced himself with a pint in hand. We chatted, and Chris (not his real name) offered to buy me another drink. After some flirting and a few more beers, midnight rolled around, and we left together.

At his house, he put on Michael Jackson, and we danced. Chris poured me another glass of wine. As we edged toward the bed, something shifted in his eyes. Suddenly, all six feet, three inches of him slammed to the floor, his limbs splayed on the hardwood. The booze had won out. 

I wanted to put him to bed and “girlfriend” him, but I knew it was time to leave instead. I helped him up, called a car, and tip-toed out. I was embarrassed—for me and for him. I wish I could have gotten to know who he really was before the six pack kicked in. Maybe if we’d gone on a hike instead of drinking at a bar, he could have been the one.

Recently, SDM editor and Unhinged columnist Nicolle Monico wrote that in 2025, daters will be leaning toward dry dates over the typical bar meetups. As a 40-something-year-old, full-time writer seeking a long-term partnership, I enjoy a calming glass of wine on first dates. But after many failed “wet” dates, this trend had me curious about what it’s like to forgo that crutch of social lubrication. 

If I’m being honest, alcohol has always been there to get me through life. I grew up in a restaurant family and drinking was ubiquitous. To this day, my mom’s first suggestion when I’m feeling down is that I grab a G&T. Since my 20s, I have relied on alcohol to ease me into potentially awkward social situations. I joke that I’m great on first dates because I’m witty and gregarious, but it’s probably just the Chardonnay talking—and who knows if I’m as charming as I think I am? 

Alcohol helps quell my anxiety about so many things: Will he think I’m smart? What if I’m not pretty enough? What if I chose the wrong outfit? Will he notice that I’ve gained 15 pounds since that last profile pic was taken? I’m terrified that I won’t be understood and ultimately rejected— just for being myself. I’ve always squashed these racing thoughts with a glass of something rather than dealing with my own rejection sensitivity, or even being open to the possibility that no one is judging me half as hard as I am judging myself.

To challenge myself, I decided to go on a slew of non-drinking dates: bowling, the beach, coffee, Mexican food sans margaritas. Sometimes I asked if we could keep things dry; other times, I just stuck to water as my date sipped on something boozy. Taking away my liquid security blanket was a shock to the senses. I felt far more self-conscious than when I was drinking. I had to do breathing exercises before every date to calm my nervous system, which would normally be soothed by something stronger.

On the bowling date in El Cajon, the scent of IPAs wafting in the distance, I bonded with a professional ice skater over his recent heartbreak and our shared experiences of being the one left behind. The activity and faux-competitiveness of the date distracted me from the need to drink, but once the conversation kicked in, I felt like I overcompensated by oversharing and getting straight to the deep stuff. Thankfully, he welcomed it, and I felt a weird sense of safety. It was refreshing to talk about relationships and not sex, as alcohol has a way of guiding the conversation in that direction.

On my next date, I shared sushi in Mission Beach with a man who recently divorced his best friend and partner of 20 years, only to pick up a penchant for shibari. Then came enchiladas and a conversation about polyamory with a man who loves Porches. My last sober date was, ironically, at a dive bar with an actual sober guy. 

We played our favorite songs on the jukebox and drank ginger beers, bonding over shared music tastes and mental health diagnoses. I’m not sure I would have divulged that sensitive information had I been drinking. My date was honest with me about why he made the decision to become sober. This confession made me want to offer up something about myself to match his vulnerability. It turns out we have a lot more in common than just loving Bikini Kill.

None of these dates ended with anything physical, not even a peck on the cheek. With alcohol, I definitely would have been persuaded to take things further, even on a first date. Staying dry kept me grounded in my boundaries—I wanted to save the physical connection for when I knew there was an emotional one. 

None of these dates provided the drama and danger of a lushy meet-cute, but I did feel more comfortable in my own skin the more I did it. Instead of being in my head about what the other person thought about me, I was better equipped to make decisions based on what I thought of them, rather than seeking their approval. 

What stood out to me is my own reliance on alcohol to make me feel worthy of love. The fact that I don’t think I’m enough without a little liquid encouragement broke my heart. I drink to have fun and to feel like an elevated version of myself. But why can’t I be that person on my own? It made me reflect on my own relationship with alcohol, which I’ll continue to think about. Did this experiment make me want to go sober? No. But it did make me want to love and trust myself more deeply, without an ABV.

Though none of my dry dates led to a second, I was able to make better judgments on these potential partners and stick to my own values and boundaries, which always seem to disintegrate after a few glasses of natty wine. I felt sure about my decisions (do I send a follow-up text? Do I ghost?). There was no gray area in my gray matter, which can so often be clouded by a drink.

I’ll probably still make some mistakes in dark bars, but adding more dry dates to my journey could be the difference between meeting a guy for now and a guy for forever. At the very least, it’ll make for some good memories… and a healthier liver.  

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

Sign-up now for the Unhinged newsletter for exclusive content, Q&As with Nicolle, and subscriber-only meet-ups!

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Broadly, polyamory is the consensual practice of engaging in multiple romantic relationships—but it takes many forms. Parker and his partners have chosen closed throupledom: All three of them are sexually and romantically involved with each other, and they don’t date outside of their threesome.

“While we believe that love isn’t finite and there’s so much out there, you only have so much time and so much energy that you can give to others,” Parker says. “We kind of joke around that we’re at our bandwidth limit; we don’t have anymore for anyone else.”

Admittedly, I had some preconceived notions about non-monogamy: Is it for people who don’t want to commit? Does it only work if you never get jealous? But during my conversation with Parker, it quickly became clear that everyone in a relationship—monogamous or not—could learn something from the tenets of polyamory.

While the concept of non-monogamy isn’t new, it seems as though, in recent years, attention to—and interest in—polyamory has reached a fever pitch. Slate even went so far as to call it mainstream, citing Peacock’s new show Couple to Throuple as an example of how far we’ve come. 

That might be an overstatement—in 2021, researcher Rhonda Balzarini told Psychology Today that “anywhere between 26 to 43 percent of individuals who practice [consensual non-monogamy] report experiences of stigma and discrimination”—but, at the very least, recent data shows a shift in perspective is happening. 

According to 2024 stats compiled by SexualAlpha, 31 percent of Millennials consider themselves to be in a non-monogamous relationship. In 2021, Frontiers in Psychology found that one in nine Americans engaged in polyamory at some point in their lifetime

Slate looked at various studies to conclude that “two or three percent of all American adults are, by agreement, not strictly monogamous … [which] works out to millions of people—similar to the prevalence of peanut allergies.”

In February of this year, Ana Kirova, CEO of sex-positive dating app Feeld, told Axios that the pandemic may have driven individuals’ interest in non-monogamy. Lockdowns gave people time to think about their sexual identities and desires, she suggests. And the data backs her up: According to Kirova, Feeld has seen “a 500 [percent] increase over the last three years in the number of app users including the terms ‘ethically non-monogamous’ and ‘polyamorous’ in their profiles.” 

But some people, like Parker’s husband, Alex Aragon, have practiced polyamory for much longer. Aragon was in a five-year marriage with a man and a woman before moving to Salt Lake City, Utah, and meeting a then-26-year-old Parker. “I was still a closeted Mormon kid. He made the first move and asked me out,” Parker says. “We ended up dating. He was one of the first major relationships I had, and he helped me come out of the closet.”

Aragon was the first to bring up polyamory. Parker says the concept wasn’t completely foreign to him, since he’d grown up in the Mormon faith, in which polygamy was once common. Three years into their relationship, they started seeing other people and eventually moved to San Diego.

“When the two of us started dating polyamorously, there definitely was messiness. It was a lot harder, just because you don’t know how to react to things,” Parker says. “But as time went on, there were lessons learned; your own boundaries start being understood more.”

Every new relationship involves a learning period, where you’re figuring out how your partner wants to be loved and how that differs from past partners. In polyamory, that’s amplified, and practitioners have more practice than most at letting go of limiting ideas about how relationships can and should look. 

“Each individual that came in and dated us was different, and they would each have unique things that we would have to learn with them [and] go through disagreements,” Parker says.  “When you have two different people that have different preferences and different love languages … it’s so important to focus sometimes on how your partner needs to be loved rather than how you like to love other people.” 

Making it work requires a powerful level of communication and honesty: constant check-ins, early discussions of boundaries, and the willingness to voice desires and fears. 

“Some of that wisdom could be applied to every other relationship,” says Dr. Marie Thouin, a dating and relationship coach and expert in non-monogamy. “I think everyone should import some of the wisdom from non-monogamous communities, including compersion—the idea that love is not about controlling one another, but it’s about empowering one another to be our fullest self.”

Successful polyamory involves creating a safe space for everyone involved to explore their boundaries, feelings, and thoughts—including those about safety. In cases where two people are primary partners but have opened their relationship to include others, for example, “They may have an agreement that says, ‘Okay, we don’t wear condoms or barriers with each other, but every time we have sex with someone else, we wear a condom and maybe we get tested every two months,” Dr. Thouin says. Then, they’ll share their results with everyone they’re sleeping with, no matter what.

This stands in stark contrast to the myth that non-monogamous people are uninterested in commitment. In fact, they spend a lot of time cultivating and maintaining the connections in their life and learning other people’s needs.

They’re also not supremely evolved beings who’ve magically removed the jealousy gene. “When jealousy and insecurities come up, the idea is not to eradicate [them], because that’s impossible to do,” Dr. Thouin says. “Non-monogamous people know that. They reassure each other.”

The takeaway for my own monogamous relationship? Communication is key. I want to create a space for my boyfriend to share when he’s feeling insecure or unseen. I also need to work on expressing myself more instead of shutting down—a trait I’ve picked up over the years due to fear of others getting upset with me. 

I’ve heard from friends who have used Feeld that it’s refreshing to speak with its members because of how open and upfront they are about their wants, needs, and desires. Better communication right away could ease the process of meeting someone who shares your values and weeding out those who may not be a fit. 

What about you? Have you ever explored consensual non-monogamy? Would you? Let me know your thoughts in an email at [email protected].

Lastly, thanks to all who came out for our first singles mixer to celebrate six months of the column. After this week, we’ll be moving to a bi-monthly schedule—catch a new article back here on Friday, September 13.

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

Sign-up now for the Unhinged newsletter for exclusive content, Q&As with Nicolle, and subscriber-only meet-ups!

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The post Unhinged, A Dating Series: Consensual Non-Monogamy appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

And the evidence is more than anecdotal—according to a Forbes Health survey this year, 78 percent of respondents reported experiencing dating fatigue “sometimes, often, or always.” That’s a pretty large number of burnt-out people when you consider that around 60 million people in the United States are using or have used online dating services. 

As a 42-year-old woman, this feeling has resonated with me for some time. Single millennials are essentially aging out of the “fun zone” of dating and are now carrying more relationship baggage than in our 20s—me included.

But tonight was about holding onto hope and not letting the numbers affect my evening. My outfit was a little black number that was equal parts baby doll and ’90s slip dress. I paired it with frilly ankle socks and mules. I felt cute. 

It has been three-and-a-half years since I’ve dated anyone, let alone felt attracted to someone. In that time, I’ve worked on myself and my career to become a more confident person and a better partner for someone someday. I was finally feeling ready to get back into the dating world, and the 10 and 10 Club seemed like the easiest way to get my feet wet.

When I arrived, I was greeted with an excellent soundtrack, a cheeseboard, and some social lubrication (thank god for Champagne) and started mingling for the first 30 minutes. During the night, we coursed through each of the three tables to ensure that everyone had the chance to meet. At these tables, we could ask each other questions from a printed list or play games such as flip cup. 

The questions varied from mirthful to deep. My group chose to ask questions—our red Solo cup skills were pretty feeble, but our vulnerability game was on point. Well, everyone’s but mine.

I play things close to the chest. I’ve never been in a committed relationship, though I’ve experienced plenty of situationships and have been intimate with men I’ve found attractive along the way. So, when talk of “deal breakers” and “most romantic gestures” enters conversations, I tend to clam up. I feel like I have nothing to offer and don’t want to run the risk of looking stupid or inexperienced. 

To a prospective suitor who wants something serious, I must look like a walking red flag. Why hasn’t anyone chosen her? What’s really wrong with her?

Despite my best efforts at sharing bits of myself and answering questions like What’s your worst injury? (falling off a bike in Germany hours into a hook-up vacation) and What would you change about society? (continue the trend of honoring mental health awareness), I didn’t make any connections with any of the men. 

To be fair, no one was my type, so I didn’t engage with as much enthusiasm as I should have. In general, the crowd was attractive and well-adjusted, with interesting careers, insights, and the ability to crack jokes. This is not always the case with these types of mixers, so it was a nice surprise. By the end of the evening, some couples were even pairing off for deeper chats.

Before we parted ways, all participants received an envelope with notes from members of the group—anyone of the same sex interested in fostering a friendship or from the opposite sex looking for your digits. I got one. From the host of the event. I couldn’t help but feel like the chaperone was taking pity on the girl who didn’t get asked to dance. It’s uncomfortable enough trying to put yourself outside of a very cozy comfort zone only to be mocked by a lack of interest literally on paper. To be fair, other women and men got notes. Just not me. Perhaps the note passing is a humble lesson in, “You get what you put into it.”

But I forged on with my night and met up with some friends at a local karaoke bar. I approached a woman who sang Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.” She was petite and friendly. She mentioned going somewhere else.

“Do you want to come?” she asked.

“Sure!” I replied, fortified by male rejection and a very strong Jell-O shot.

My friends tapered off. She and I walked alone to the next bar. We chatted about her tattoos and who we knew in the neighborhood. She drank a Dirty Shirley with two cherries. 

We swayed on the dance floor to late-’70s no-wave bands. She inched closer, our hips attached, and she made her move. She kissed me, and I kissed her back. I knew people at the bar but couldn’t be bothered to care about them seeing. Kissing her felt nice and consequence-free—a low-stakes way to satisfy a long-standing curiosity. After the music died down and the lights came up, we moved it to my car for another make-out session, but that’s as far as it went. We exchanged Instagrams and I let her know that I got home safe. We haven’t talked to each other since. 

I don’t take that as rejection. We had what we had. 

What that night taught me is that maybe I’m not ready for something serious. And, quite frankly, that scares me. I denied a group of 10 eligible men who want a relationship for a random, cute woman with whom I know I have no future. Have I been unwittingly indoctrinated by my situationships to only be comfortable with a casual, surface-level hang? I know that, deep down, I want a serious relationship with a male partner. 

Ultimately, though, I’m scared of being singular—not single. I’m scared that I don’t have enough to offer another person, that I’m vapid and uninteresting and the one person who is undateable and unloveable. 

I’m afraid of being judged for who I am. Despite the many charming details of my personality, I’m afraid that no one will love my shadow qualities, from mental health issues to sloppiness and fiscal irresponsibility. I’m a 42-year-old relationship virgin without an Amex, who, more often than not, buys new underwear instead of doing laundry and still fantasizes about starting a band. 

Maybe I’ve been single for so long that the idea of committing to another person is what scares me even more. What really frightens me is that maybe I’ll lose my independence and the identity I’ve cultivated while learning about myself as a single person. I don’t want to have to calm my quirks for someone else, because I fiercely love those parts of myself. 

For anyone else in this position, maybe acknowledging that is the first step to understanding where to go from here. After all, calling out those fears may mean we’re finally ready to address them. As for today, do I see myself dating women in the future? No, I don’t. Did I have fun? Why, yes, I did. 

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

Sign-up now for the Unhinged newsletter for exclusive content, Q&As with Nicolle, and subscriber-only meet-ups!

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The post Unhinged, A Dating Series: The Fear of Losing Yourself to Love appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

Over the course of the first two seasons, viewers watched as cast members Stassi Schroeder and Jax Taylor’s toxic relationship went through its ups and downs. Cheating. Screaming matches. Anxiety. It was hard to watch, but at the same time, it felt very familiar to me.

By season seven, Stassi had met her now-husband Beau Clark. While the two were still in the dating phase, Stassi confronted her friend and fellow castmate Kristen Doute, who was embroiled in a toxic partnership of her own. 

“I learned now that you don’t have to be screamed at ever. Like, you don’t,” Stassi told Kristen. “You can be in a relationship where somebody loves you and wants to be around you and is happy all the time to be around you and lifts you up and supports you and doesn’t demand that you pay for everything and doesn’t demand that you take care of everything. There is a relationship out there for you that you deserve.”

If you’ve never been in an incredibly unhealthy situation, this may seem so obvious to you. But for those of us who have loved someone so much that we’ve overlooked the glaring red flags, those of us who’ve struggled with self-worth, her words were a gut punch. 

Even at the time, I knew that what was happening in one of my past relationships was not okay. I knew that being called a c*nt when he was upset was wrong. That I should’ve walked out the door when he threw a beer can in my direction during a heated argument. Instead, I stayed and told myself that we had our problems, just like any other couple.

Stassi could have been talking to me, but back then, I wouldn’t have listened. 

I consider myself a pretty strong person. As an only child with immigrant parents, I had to navigate a lot of the intricacies of life in the US on my own—homework, financial aid, college applications. The experience made me more independent than many of my friends whose parents and siblings had figured all this out before. 

My parents have always been a huge support in my life, but there are things that only first-gen children will understand about learning to stick up for yourself and fighting for what you want. 

Love is a powerful thing, though. It can make us strangers to ourselves. I never thought I could fall into the type of relationship that would leave me broken and ashamed, making excuses for a man who treated me cruelly. 

“Why did you stay with him?” I often get asked. “Didn’t your friends tell you he wasn’t good for you?” 

How long do you have? I want to reply.

The answer isn’t simple. An uncountable number of psychologists, writers, and experts have attempted to explain why these unhealthy dynamics are so hard to escape. For some, it comes down to the fact that the unknown is scarier than the known.

“When given the option, most people will opt for the option that is most familiar, even if it is uncomfortable,” Sarah Epstein, LMFT explains in Psychology Today. “In relationships, familiar discomfort may be preferable to the unknown of being alone or in a different relationship. Some have a pattern of entering unhealthy relationships repeatedly, finding the familiar pain of similar dynamics comfortable and predictable, if not happy.”

What this all proves is that finding yourself stuck in a toxic relationship isn’t just relegated to the weak. You’re not alone if your love for someone makes it seem impossible to leave them. It’s not as black and white as those around you will make you feel. I also know that until you’re ready, you’re not going to say goodbye. After all, I’ve been in your shoes.

After my ex and I finally called it quits for good, I spent a lot of time single, working on healing and coming back to myself. Still, when I started dating Caleb (not his real name), I spent the first few months of our relationship fighting the internal dialogue telling me that if he wasn’t making me work for his affection, then it wasn’t real. Honestly, I still have to battle the subconscious urge to pick a fight just to feel those familiar highs and lows.

I’m sure I’ve been tough to date. I’ve mentioned breaking up twice, a knee-jerk reaction intended to protect myself from the heartache that I’m certain will come, since it always has in the past. Caleb was hurt and confused. 

Good, healthy relationships don’t work that way. I’m learning. 

What’s been a constant in our relationship, however, is a feeling of safety. He’s patient, kind, and affectionate. “I will wait for you to grow out of the circumstances you were in before me, because I see who you really are,” he once said. “It’s coming through in patches, and I can’t wait to get the full thing.” 

I share all this not to say, “I did it; I found someone—you can too!” but because I sincerely didn’t believe Stassi’s words until now. But if this is resonating with you, I want you to know: She’s right. 

Over the years, plenty of people became exhausted with my ex and me. I understood their frustrations. But if a person hasn’t gone through something like this before, they may not understand why their well-meaning advice doesn’t lead to a breakthrough. They haven’t experienced the intensity of a toxic dynamic, the way its rollercoaster emotions keep you frozen in place. They don’t really get it.

I do, though. I get it. It’s f*cking hard to choose being single again above being with someone who kind of, maybe, sorta is sometimes nice to you. It took me years to fully accept that there is a world in which you can date someone who behaves as though they’re the luckiest person to be with you. They won’t need to yell at you to resolve arguments. Won’t call you names while you cry in their car.

I don’t think one article from a stranger is going to convince you that there is something better out there for you, but maybe it’ll add to a list of reasons you’re mentally collecting to someday walk away. Even once you do, it’s going to be a tough road to healing, but take it from someone who sincerely didn’t think this kind of relationship was even possible: It is.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can finally exhale. That’s a good feeling.

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

Sign-up now for the Unhinged newsletter for exclusive content, Q&As with Nicolle, and subscriber-only meet-ups!

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Something doesn’t add up. And I’d like answers.

Recently, I chatted with 39-year-old local Alex Sabbag about dating in San Diego. She hit on something that has come up in a few conversations I’ve had lately: Being an accomplished woman who also makes good money sometimes seems to make dating more difficult.

Early in her career, Sabbag established herself as a hard-working employee, which helped her quickly climb the ladder as a young professional. She went on to become an entrepreneur at 25 and moved to San Diego in 2020 at the age of 35.

“I was working as the chief marketing officer for an insurance technology company at the time and was the first hire,” Sabbag says. “I helped build the brand, built the story, built the team, and then a month after, I bought [my home] in Solana Beach.”

Today, she splits her time between Solana Beach and Palm Springs, where she runs her own yoga practice on the weekends. She also recently added “author” to her accolades and is touring the country with her new book. 

Sabbag is ambitious, intelligent, and confident—it’s immediately clear in how she speaks and how she has moved through her career. But she feels that it may be these same qualities that have kept her from finding a long-term partner.

“Women with drive and independence and big careers have no problem dropping right into their masculine energy, but it can kill a relationship so fast,” Sabbag says. “I’m [also] 5-foot-10 and taller than most [men]. I have owned beautiful homes. I don’t need [men]—I just want them.”

It’s the latter point that I find the most compelling. Men are an added bonus to the life she created for herself, not a necessity for a fulfilling future. Are men turned off by this energy because they want to feel needed?

Sabbag sees men’s disinterest in powerful women as a reflection of their own self-confidence and self-worth. It’d be easy to blame men here, though, and say that they are intimidated by strong, financially independent women—but that explanation seems too simple. 

Single parent and 39-year-old local Leigh Ann Wilson separated from her husband in August of 2022 and jumped back into the dating pool last year. “I’m in a whole different ball game,” she says. “I don’t think I was prepared mentally for these new worlds. I find it fascinating and hysterical and exhausting.”

Recently, she matched with a man on an app and began dating him. Two months in, she was beginning to picture their next chapter—when he suddenly cut all communication. No text, no call… nothing. 

Wilson was more confused than sad. “I’m in a place where I have my children, I’ve been married, I own my home, I have a good career,” Wilson says. “I’ll meet someone and it’s like, Do I intimidate you? Am I bringing out an insecurity in you that now you can’t handle?”

Psychology Today author Diana Kirschner Ph.D. points to studies that suggest men’s preference for marrying “down” is made up—though the rule of homogamy applies. The rule states that people marry partners who share similar values, religious views, attitudes, and yes, educational achievements.

This would stand to reason that more educated men prefer women who have the same level of schooling. So… men aren’t intimidated by high-achieving women? 

Torn between the anecdotal evidence and the science, I queried my male friends to hear their thoughts. All of them thought that it was a myth that men shy away from dating successful women. All said they have dated partners with titles above their own.

None of them, however, have ever actually been in a relationship with a woman who earned a higher salary than them.

“I’ve always welcomed it, but it’s only ever been in theory, which is unfortunate,” says my friend and 43-year-old Obecian Nate Miller. “To me, it seems like it can help a relationship be more in balance. There’s no weird power dynamic if your pay is nearly equal.” 

My boyfriend Caleb* tells me that my career goals and ambition were some of the things that initially attracted him to me. He, like the other men, says that he can’t see a woman’s success being a big issue with modern-day couples—though it may have been for our parent’s generation.

Millennials have slowly shifted the romantic script. According to Bureau of Labor Statistics data, there are more women in the workforce than ever before. Powerful career women are becoming the norm rather than the exception. 

Of course, Sabbag and Wilson’s experiences suggest that some men aren’t ready for the change—but all that means is that they haven’t yet found the right guy, one who will appreciate and celebrate their confidence and ambition.

What about you? As a woman, have you felt that men tend to consciously or subconsciously dismiss a future with you if you make more money or have a high-ranking title? Men, have you ever dated a woman above your financial status? Shoot me an email at [email protected] and let me know.

*The name Caleb is a pseudonym

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

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The post Unhinged, A Dating Series: Love & Ambition appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

“I wanted to ask about your timeline, because I know that you want children, and I know it gets harder past a certain age,” Caleb began. “I know it’s still early for us, but it’s probably a good idea to talk about this stuff now.”

I had barely decided what I wanted for an entrée, and here he was asking me if I was ready to plan a family with him. He wasn’t wrong for asking, though. I just didn’t feel ready. We had only been dating for two months. 

Before getting into a relationship, I shared with Caleb my desire to still have kids even though I was 40 when we met. As two older adults whose careers are exactly where we want them to be and whose finances are more secure than when we were in our 20s and 30s, we’re both on the same page as far as next steps in our dating story: Marriage and children.

But that doesn’t mean I necessarily want all of that within a year of meeting him.

According to The Knot’s 2023 Engagement and Jewelry Study, just over 70 percent of the 5,000 couples surveyed got engaged after two years or more of dating. Over half of respondents got engaged somewhere between two to five years of being together. 

If we wait two years, I’ll be 42—and that doesn’t take into account the actual wedding planning and our nuptials. Then, children. The numbers aren’t in my favor.

Browsing online forums, I came across a Reddit thread asking exactly what was on my mind that evening: How long did you date before getting engaged? A plethora of answers filled the comments: seven years, eight months, two years, two months.

“Got engaged on the third date, married nine months later and still going after 38 years,” wrote redditor u/MichiganNailJockey. 

Responders’ reasons for tying the knot not long after getting together varied: they’d known each other a long time before dating, they’d traveled together, the old “when you know, you know.” A few people got engaged earlier than planned because of a pregnancy. But only one person—in their 20s—cited a desire to start a family “by 29/30” as a reason for speeding up their timeline. 

I still feel a little lost. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not questioning whether it’s okay to discuss future wants and needs with a new partner early on. Especially at 35 or older, I think doing so is essential to know whether you should continue dating someone and enter into a long-term relationship.

I’m overwhelmed by the pressures of having to make these decisions so early on with a new partner. This is a very real—and little discussed—issue for a lot of older adults who want a family. I wouldn’t need to know right away if my new boyfriend was my guy or not had we met even five years ago. We could take our time, spend two years together, and then decide on next steps.

I’m not against having a child before marriage, but my ideal first choice is to spend time with my husband on our own before taking care of a little life. It’s hard not to feel like the option to date at my own pace has been taken away from me. And I’m worried about making the wrong decision based on my desire to have a family. 

According to therapists queried by Julia Naftulin for Business Insider, when you first start dating someone, hormonal changes can often confuse people into thinking lust is love. It’s not until the six-month mark when your body begins to return to its baseline. Typically, that’s also the point when  more challenges begin to come up between partners.

“Whether it’s about money, family, habits, or communication styles, couples can only begin to notice these differences with time. In extreme cases, a whirlwind romance can blind a person to red flags and lead to a toxic dynamic,” Naftulin writes.

This is where I find myself: confused on how to move at the right pace for us while also leaving myself time to have the future I envision. What if I say yes to an engagement, marriage, kids—the whole shebang—too early and then realize that we aren’t right for each other? 

As Caleb and I continued to chat over dinner about what a future together could look like, I did find myself grateful that he was willingly having these conversations with me, stating his intentions, and making sure he knows how fast or slow I’d like to take things.

We didn’t come up with a timeline, but I’m working on confirming that our values and life goals align before allowing worries about the proverbial ticking clock to pressure me into coming up with an answer.

For now, I guess, I wait. It may take two more months before I’ll know whether I want to spend my life with this man—or it may take a full year. What I do know is that he is the kind of man any woman would be lucky to marry (especially me), and, at the very least, I’m thankful for that.

What about you? As an adult in your 30s and older, have you felt the pressure to get married or have kids early on in a relationship? How long did you date your current spouse before calling it forever? Email me at [email protected] and share your stories.

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

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The post Unhinged, A Dating Series: No Time to Wait appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

So, when I saw that the bio on The Singles Society’s Instagram page declared, “Drop the apps, raise the bar,” I immediately clicked the link below those words. “We’ve created a vibrant community where singles can connect in real life,” reads the group’s homepage. “Our curated and themed events are designed for ambitious singles, ages 25–35, who value genuine connections and quality interactions.”

Brewery meet-ups, bowling tournaments, wine tastings, holiday parties, pickleball events—they’re all part of the formula that has attracted more than 28,000 followers on Instagram. Though the group is not located in San Diego (it’s based in Charlotte, NC), it seems to have latched onto a new trend in the dating scene: in-person group events. 

Yes, I know speed dating and singles mixers aren’t a new concept, but anyone who has ever tried to get to know a stranger on a 30-second “date” knows how awkward and cringe-worthy those events can be. What’s going on these days feels more intentional—activity-based gatherings intended to casually bring together singles with similar interests. 

It’s a natural progression of a phenomenon that was already gathering steam. “A perfect storm of pandemic-induced loneliness coupled with serious dating-app fatigue has turned the city’s sports leagues, running clubs, and gyms into the hottest places to date in New York,” The Cut reported last week.

The publication adds that some organizations have made matchmaking part of their mission. Hinge recently granted $25,000 to the Brooklyn-based Commonwealth Running Club to help it grow its in-person events.

It seems things have come full circle—we’re ready to meet our partners in real life again. 

“I think people are craving in-person connections, and we enjoy sporting events. We know that men frequent sporting events and sports bars, so we figured, ‘Let’s go where they already are,’” says Drafted Events co-founder Jillian Pfeiffer. 

I came across Drafted Events on IG recently (and if you’re an Unhinged subscriber, you got the inside scoop a few weeks ago). Pfeiffer and Marlenn Alba co-founded the LA-based group one night after trying to decide where to go out to meet a potential match.

“We’ve both been on the dating apps, and we’re sick of what we were coming across, and of having endless conversations that don’t really lead anywhere,” Pfeiffer says. “That’s how it started.”

They decided to invite singles to sporting events around the city, helping them interact in a fun and familiar setting without the awkwardness of first-date questions or cumbersome icebreakers. For their first event in April of this year, Pfeiffer and Alba rented out a section at Dodger Stadium on their own dime. About 60 attendees showed up. 

Since then, they’ve held seven events, garnered nearly 15,000 followers between IG and Facebook, and launched their first San Diego meetup on June 22 at the Padres vs. Brewers game. The event had 95 participants at the pregame and 70 men and women continued onto Petco.

“We’re not really a Dodger’s fan base group. We are a sports-centered singles group,” Alba says. “The Padres had a lot of demand, so that’s why we thought of heading down to San Diego. And Jillian actually lived in San Diego for some time.”

Pfeiffer has already seen how successful these events can be amongst singles in their 30s and 40s. “We’ve heard through the DMs that there were definitely some connections that led to first, second, and even third dates,” she says. 

In 2017, a similar idea had begun to take shape in San Diego, but, it wasn’t until December 2023 when the YES app finally launched, with the intention of helping daters “begin with experiences, not swipes.”

Instead of presenting users with a rolodex of potential matches, the app offers singles with a selection of people on a “Discover” page. A key part of each profile is the user’s suggested date—anything from “pickleball and drinks” to “a bike ride in Coronado.” Users can also choose to go on one-on-one dates, double dates, or group dates via the app, helping reduce the anxiety that may come with meeting strangers online.

“Then, you swipe down to get to the next date or the next profile, but it’s not like a yes or no situation such as with Tinder. You can converse from there, but that date is already set,” says YES co-founder Jordan McMurtry. “So you apply to a date and you already know where it is, what it is—time, date, place, and who’s paying.”

According to McMurtry, the app has about 4,500 users and counting. “We really wanted to create an app that you could connect with like-minded individuals in person, no matter the setting,” she adds.

As part of that mission, the YES app throws singles meetups across the city every month. Earlier this week, the YES team collaborated with adult athletics league Volo Sports to host a cocktail tasting at Techo Beso. The Gaslamp Quarter hotel bar is also the setting for the app’s sold-out pool party on July 13. 

If you didn’t get tickets, don’t worry, Drafted Events will put on their second SD meetup on July 31 in partnership with San Diego FC. So check their socials for updates if sports and cute people are your thing.

Something tells me that we’re looking at a new era in dating. I think we’re hungry for connection and eager to figure out how to move past the transactional nature of dating apps. I expect we’ll see more and more social groups catering to singles in cool, unique ways. As I come across these groups and check them out, I’ll be including them in my newsletter. Happy dating!

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

Sign-up now for the Unhinged newsletter for exclusive content, Q&As with Nicolle, and subscriber-only meet-ups!

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The post Unhinged, A Dating Series: Singles Are Ditching Apps for In-Person Events appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

That was the only reason I had given him my address before meeting him. Opening the door, I saw him standing there dressed in sweaty workout clothes, gym bag in hand. “Can I use your shower?” he asked.

Since we had a mutual connection, I let it slide, hoping that maybe he had a good reason for not being ready for the date before arriving at my place. Once we finally made it to dinner, he continued to talk only about himself, rarely asking me questions. 

By the time we got back to my place, he was too drunk to drive home. I told him he could sleep on my couch, and I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. But when I opened my bedroom door, I found him lying in my bed… naked. Nope. I moved him to the couch, where he stayed well into the next afternoon, not picking up on my hints that it was time for him to leave.

When he finally dipped, he kissed me and said he hoped we could do it again sometime. Sir, read the room, I thought. I never saw him again—but he’s married now, and I’m not. So, who really wins here? TBD.

We all have bad first date stories, cringe-worthy moments that make us wonder what’s really going on in someone’s head. So, for this week’s edition of Unhinged, we decided to ask our Instagram followers to share their worst dating experiences. Married and long-term-relationship folks, if you’re wondering what it’s like out there, have no fear—here’s your answer.

Stories have been lightly edited for clarity.

San Diego Dating Horror Stories

Dated for three months. Had our first disagreement and he cried, saying he just wanted to talk to his mom. This man was 38 years old. –@dreamondreamr  

Homie gave me a ride home, leaned in, lifted my arms, and went to make out with my armpit. –@vagrantcook

Me: Oh, you live by Mount Soledad! Cool, let’s go hiking tomorrow! Her: I need to wait until June 24th. Me: Why? She sends me a pic of her ankle monitor. —@charlietiano 

The whole effing reason I got on dating apps was to meet and spend time with someone in real life. Met a dude for drinks. After exactly one drink, he says he needs to go home to “take care of something.” Turns out he had to run so he could play video games and would rather text me. WTF!! —@chickenpsychedelic

I went on a date with someone who got up and left me sitting alone in a park because I said I didn’t agree that Lord of the Rings was the best book and movie series of all time. Didn’t even give me time to explain. Just asked if I was serious, and then left. —@meghpie

Went to sushi on a set-up date. The guy was late, then went to the bathroom for 10 to 15 minutes while I was at the table. He came back and told me he died in the bathroom and had to hit himself in the chest to bring himself back to life. As a medical professional, I knew this wasn’t a thing. Asked him if he had anxiety or got panic attacks. He said no and said he had to go to the ER. I asked him if he had anyone to take him and he said no, so I ended up in the ER for three hours with him. He asked me out again after, and I said no thanks. Then he called me a c**t. —@nicole_jonelle

On our one-year anniversary, my boyfriend at the time said he couldn’t do anything but brunch that day because he had to work on his nearly million-dollar condo that he’d just bought. No card or flowers in hand. The check came, and he asked to split it. Worst part? I stayed for another six months. —@mckenna.bean

I went on a first date with a guy and we were discussing places to go to after dinner. The next place I suggested, he goes, “Oh, no, no. I’m banned from there ever since I beat that guy with a crowbar. I can’t go back.” I’m sorry, what? “Oh, he’s fine; no big deal. Let’s think where else could we go.” —@candacelately

I took a date with me and some friends to Valle. In the line on the way back into the US, she had a meltdown. “If I would have known this line was going to be so long, I never would have come!” The line was an hour long. —@bajasocietytours

Went on a few dates with somebody and he ended it after Mother’s Day because he told me I look too much like his mom. —@kjohaaaay

Met him out at a bar and he offered me a leftover slice of his pizza. I ate it. He asked for my number and the next day asked me out on a date to a “really good Italian spot” by his apartment. When I got to his place, he gave me a “tour,” which included his bathroom that was completely wallpapered with Playboy magazine covers. I laughed. He looked at me and said, “I did it myself” (and was VERY proud). I ended the date right then and there (before it even started). —@leahguirrelcsw

My husband and I are polyamorous, and I used to run a poly meetup group on FB. There was a girl who was always supportive but never would show up to anything and had excuses for everything. So, two years later, she wanted to go on a date with my husband and me. I should have known that it was going to be bad when she showed up wearing an outfit that looked like she got it out of the dumpster. If the outfit wasn’t the biggest red flag, my then-boyfriend invited her over to his place, and she would not leave and tried to squat at his apartment and tried to convince him to break up with me and be with her. I went downstairs to her car and it was literally trashed—filled to the brim with clothes and trash. Found out that this is called being a “hobosexual”… She still tries to hit up my husband. —@ali.boo.boo.kittyfk

I accidentally dated a homeless man who turned into a stalker. —@bcmuu

Went out with a guy from Hinge who had been getting increasingly creepy as the date went on, so much so that the bartender had to keep an eye on us. Ultimately, he said that his therapist said he shows sociopathic tendencies, which he should’ve let me know before. —@btchykryssy

Want to join the conversation? Add your worst San Diego date story in the comments or email us at [email protected].

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

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“You’ll find love when you stop looking for it,” you’ve all told me. “Focus on yourself and the right person will find you.” 

If I stopped looking, I’d never find anyone. I’d be at home nonstop, only spending time with close friends. Dating isn’t a fun pastime that I did for sh*ts and giggles. I’m guessing most singles wouldn’t be out there dating if they didn’t have to be. (Though, fine, maybe some people do like it.)

“Why are you searching so hard?” someone wrote in response to this column. I don’t know, Richard, I’d like a husband one day.  

“I hope you find love, because it’s not for lack of trying,” said another male Instagrammer. I don’t know if the second person was trying to come off as condescending or not, but it definitely didn’t make me feel better about trying to date.

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me to “just stop looking,” then I’d be on a yacht in the Greek Isles somewhere with a cabana boy at my side. 

I get the sentiment behind the saying—happy people attract happy people—but I also think it can be damaging—or at the very least confusing—for a lot of us to hear. Imagine telling someone trying to learn how to cook that if they just think about how good their food will be, then they’ll become the next Julia Childs. 

It’s also unhelpful for someone to hear if they’re sharing the hardships they’re facing in finding a partner.

I have never put myself out there as much as I have since starting this column. If you Google me, my dating articles pop up front and center. Strangers have brought up the series to me at events. Even our interns have said that their professor referenced it in class. 

I’m the last person who could say “Oh, I just gave up looking for love, and I found it.” Instead, I put everything out there, made my intentions clear, and met the person I’m currently dating through this column. 

This isn’t an article on how to find love like I did, because everyone is different and what worked for me may not work for you (though if you’ve been thinking about launching a dating column, consider this your sign). But it is a rant against those who will tell you to give up searching and just focus on yourself in order to attract a partner. 

There are truths to this way of thinking, of course. You should try and find happiness within yourself first and create the life you want, regardless of who is or isn’t in it. But it doesn’t take the full picture into account, because I’m betting that a lot of you out there have done the work, love yourself, and are proud of the life you have.

If you want to be in a relationship, but you pretend that you’re not looking, it means you’re not being your authentic self, and a potential partner will pick up on that. This could also lead to not making time for dates or continuing to hide out in your comfort zone (aka: in your bed with Netflix). 

With this mindset, you could also be putting off the vibe that you’re not interested in dating. You may miss a potential match if your eyes and heart aren’t open. I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve passed up on good men because I wasn’t fully ready. 

Let’s also not confuse “looking” with “obsessing.” Don’t be that person who can’t pay attention to a conversation with your friends because you’re too distracted scanning the bar for your next boo.

I don’t have the secret formula to finding love. Hell, my relationship may only last a few weeks until I’m back here with you all on the hunt (although, I’m going to bet on myself with this one). 

I am certain of a few things, though. If I never actively tried to find love, I’d likely never know myself as well as I do. You learn a lot about who you are, both in and out of relationships, and dating is essential in knowing what you do and don’t want in a partner. It’s also a good temp check to find out what parts of yourself may need some adjusting.

I also know that, because I was dating with purpose—with extra-large neon flashing signs—I was able to meet someone who I’d never have run across in my normal, everyday life. So, if you’re looking for love and need someone to do a little Tom Cruise couch jump for you as you put yourself out there, come to me. I have your neon signs ready.

If you’re new to Unhinged, catch up on all the dating chats you’ve missed here and follow along at @monicles and @sandiegomag on Instagram to know when a new article drops each week.

Sign-up now for the Unhinged newsletter for exclusive content, Q&As with Nicolle, and subscriber-only meet-ups!

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