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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Created by La Jolla resident Andrea Miller, the app was made to “bring together singles who share similar lifestyles by fostering an environment that prioritizes quality connections,” its website touts. Here’s how it works:

You sign up with your phone number,  answer some questions about your dating preferences, and fill out your bio, similar to other popular dating apps. Then you’ll be asked to choose some of your favorite athletic activities, including extreme sports, fishing, golfing, hiking, indoor volleyball, or kickboxing. You’ll also need to choose your preferred first date from five options: coffee, working out together, drinks, dinner, or going for a walk.

GoGetter’s swiping interface is the most comparable to Tinder, with an “X” on the left side of a profile to pass and a heart in the center to say “yes.” You won’t have to guess if you share similar interests with your potential match—you can see their chosen activities under their profile. Once matched, you have 48 hours to chat with each other before the match disappears. However, you must pay a “coin,” which costs $1, to start a conversation.

While the app piqued my interest when I first heard about it, I wasn’t quite sure how its mission statement would translate into real-life dating scenarios. GoGetter’s focus on connecting people who love  being outdoors, working up a sweat, and getting their bodies moving resonated with me—after all, I looked for these qualities in a potential partner while dating. 

So, I called up its founder to get the scoop, and I enlisted a friend to try out the app. 

“I left the corporate world to pursue this dating app. I was 35 and single and was basically saying, ‘Hey, this is what I would need to find love,’” says Miller, who was living in Australia at the time for work and to travel. “I knew that my number-one non-negotiable was that I wanted to meet someone who lived an active lifestyle. So I thought, ‘Let’s start there.’ It was just mind-boggling to me that nothing was really out there serving this niche.”

Miller, who is now 43, launched the app (then called Slindir) in Australia in 2016. A year later, she moved to San Diego and debuted a second iteration for the US market with updated tech and a full rebrand, including its name. 

“And then Covid hit and I was in a time when I actually ended up having to go back to Australia, so that kind of slowed things down a little bit,” Miller recalls. “I couldn’t keep the momentum up.” She met her now-husband while working out on the beach and eventually had a baby during the pandemic.

In 2022, Miller decided it was time to re-launch in San Diego with the addition of a new feature that was important to her: pay-to-talk. As mentioned earlier, when you match with someone, you have to pay a “coin” (or, literally, one dollar), to initiate a conversation. If the other person wants to chat, too, they can pony up the $1 fee to do so; otherwise, if they decide they don’t want to talk, you’ll get your coin returned to your virtual bank.

“The whole idea is that … you both need to make a move; you’re go-getters,” Miller says. “Let’s take these ‘yeses’ that people have given to each other and let’s verify them a bit more. If you’re really interested in talking to this person, show some initiative. Put the effort in.” 

On its head, this approach makes sense to me. Other apps have similar ways of coaxing conversations. Bumble gives pairs 24 hours to connect before the match expires and disappears. While talking to matches on Hinge is free, many of the app’s most popular filtering features (including height, religious views, and family preferences) are only available to users who pay in-app fees—meaning that you’re paying for the opportunity to speak with a more curated list of people, rather than casting a wide net for free.

However, if you’re a new GoGetter user, the coin feature may have you second-guessing using the app. My friend Megan, for her part, had mixed feelings about it. “Even a dollar is going to make me think twice about chatting with someone I’m lukewarm about,” she says. “But I would be thrilled to pay $5 if there were five guys I actually wanted to talk with.”

Miller argues that when somebody chooses to pay a coin to talk to you, they’re reaffirming they’re interest, which in turn adds value to the connection. “It’s not like, ‘Oh, I paid to be on this platform,’” she says. “It’s like, ‘I’ve paid to talk to you.’” 

Currently, the app has under 100 users in San Diego and only 1,500 across the entire country. But, according to Miller, it’s growing—just maybe not fast enough. 

“There were literally two men in SD on it. Then it started throwing me men and women from all over,” Megan says. “I was getting women almost immediately, even though my settings say, ‘Only men.’ And then, within a dozen swipes, I was onto Phoenix and SF. Interesting concept; [it] just needs to grow, I think.” 

July 12, 2024

Unhinged, A Dating Series: Singles Are Ditching Apps for In-Person EventsRELATED ARTICLE

Megan deleted the app. Miller knows she must draw more users to GoGetter if it’s going to compete with the major players in this field. 

“I need to take the focus away from trying to get as many people as possible and really serve each market at a time,” she says. “Because I am here in San Diego, I thought, Okay, I can be part of the marketing and the events and really just kind of find out what works, and then, that way, I can replicate that in each market.”

She plans to use in-person meetups to help grow the GoGetter community. Her goal is to host get-togethers for app users to ensure attendees are ready to date and share the values of the app.

“Once we start to build the audience a little bit more, we’re going to start holding events,” Miller says. “They might be social events; they might be active events—could be a running thing, a yoga thing, or a happy hour. I think it’s important to bring people together.” 

What do you think? Are you willing to be a guinea pig and try out the new app? Or is the pay-to-talk feature a reason to skip it all together?

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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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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“I’m really happy when on my own, so if I’m unhappy in a relationship, or if it’s too hard, then I’d rather be alone,” Trent (not his real name) said as we chatted one evening. His point was that, at 37, he had created a good life for himself, one that he’d only give up if it brought him even more joy.

This past weekend while sipping cheap cocktails at Club Marina, my girl friends and I had a similar convo. Sarah (not her real name) shared that she isn’t really sure what she wants in a relationship because she enjoys her life and compromising any part of it isn’t something she’s ready to do for someone. She’ll tell you she wants companionship though, it just has to allow her the freedom to keep her life as is.

Back in April, I wrote about “wanting it all” when it came to love, arguing that if I can’t, I’d rather remain single. “Finding just anyone to be with has never been appealing to me,” I wrote. “I don’t want companionship for companionship’s sake. I want someone who truly challenges me and complements my life. Because if I’m not going to have the kind of romance that makes my heart jump when I see them in 30 years, then I don’t want it.” 

As I thought about these conversations and my own values, I realized that their connective tissue relied on the fact that being single was easier (or even better) than being in a relationship if the latter meant having to give up or ignore fundamental pieces of yourself. 

On its head, I get it. It takes less work to stick to the life you already have. It’s less effort to only worry about yourself. But this way of thinking is missing the opportunity that relationships give us for growth. 

To be clear, I’m not suggesting that you can’t grow or learn about yourself without being in a committed relationship or that being in one is in any way superior to not being in one. But, for those who want romantic partnership, having that type of thinking—“If it’s going to be hard, if I have to change, I’m better off single”—could be a barrier to not only finding love, but changing our own blind spots or any trauma-induced habits.

Sometimes, self-awareness can only really come when someone you’re intimately close with holds up a mirror to you. Understanding ourselves better is beneficial to our mental health and overall wellbeing—but it takes practice, the kind you get from being with someone.

And yes, your life will change when dating someone, but that’s part of the beauty of learning to love another person. Living in a healthy partnership can open life up in big, new, and exciting ways and the right person can make falling in love the easiest thing in the world.

If you’re stuck feeling like the benefits of being single outweigh having a partner, yet you’re still hoping to find love, here are some ways that being in a relationship can actually enhance the life you already have.  

Dating Helps Us Understand Ourselves Better

Sure, if you don’t date, you might be happier since you don’t have to adjust your life to fit someone else’s. Or, if you’re in a relationship and you’re arguing early on as you get to know each other, you may think that it’s easier to just be alone. Relationships often bring to the surface difficult things within ourselves that can feel easier to ignore. Relationships challenge us to grow, and that’s not a bad thing. 

The dynamics of dating someone naturally means that you’re going to have to reflect on how you treat your partner and what expectations you have of them. No one wants to hear what they’re doing wrong as a girlfriend or boyfriend, how their past has brought on unhelpful or unhealthy traits, or that they haven’t mastered good communication. But this is where we learn. This is the power of the mirror. This is how we stop repeating harmful behaviors and toxic cycles and finally move on from the lessons that continue to come up in our lives.

Dating Allows Us to Broaden Our Worldviews

I’ve never dated a man with exactly the same values, morals, or views on life that I’ve had. Even the ones who’ve most aligned with me are still not perfect matches. What’s so great about dating is that your partner is going to have their own unique life experiences which dictate their view on everything. 

If you know any journalists, you’ll know that many of us tend to be a little skeptical by nature. This is great for what we do as a career, but not necessarily the most positive thing in relationships. Currently, I’m learning to recognize the good instead of quickly seeing the bad in various scenarios thanks to conversations with my partner who is possibly the most happy-go-lucky person I know.

If you’re open (and willing to learn), you can broaden your understanding of the world just by being with someone who challenges you to think differently.

Dating Helps Us Work on Communication 

Have you ever argued with a new partner and realized your communication style may lead to even more disagreements versus resolutions? Learning how to effectively communicate with another human may be one of the most challenging parts about being intimately involved with another person.

I’ve mentioned it before, I struggle with shutting down during conflict which can be hurtful for my partners. I’ve also learned that for me, asking for a minute to process is important to me. Having that little bit of space from the situation usually allows me to see more clearly. But I wouldn’t know all this, not to this level at least, if I hadn’t dated in my past.

Having to learn how to express your needs well and navigate disagreements might be one of the most useful parts of being in a relationship. These are the kinds of life tools that benefit you in work, in friendships, and in family dynamics, and ones that you can take with you in every season of life.

Dating Brings to Light Our Attachment Styles

You’ve likely heard the term “attachment styles” tossed around in the dating world. But if you’re not familiar with them, it’s a way to describe how we expect others to relate in close relationships. They’re often based on childhood experiences and your relationship with your primary caregiver(s).

The four attachment styles are: secure, avoidant, anxious, and disorganized. You can read more about each here. Ideally, the healthiest relationships are rooted in a secure attachment—though this is often not the case. When you date, you start to learn which style you may struggle with and can take steps to work toward a more secure one. It’s hard work and takes practice but in the end will make you a stronger, more emotionally available person.

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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Daters Are Going Sober to Find Love

In July, Newsweek covered the rise of sober dating among Gen Zers and Millennials during a time when people are ditching alcohol (though, still staying “California sober”) at higher rates than previous generations. Even those not cutting alcohol out completely are scaling back—according to a study by NC Solutions, 41 percent of people are minimizing their use and prioritizing mental health.

This trend of dry dating has led to the creation of new NA apps such as Drybaby, Loosid, and Club Pillar, which aim to bring like-minded singles together in one place. Apps like these make it easier for sober singles to organize meetups while avoiding awkward conversations about not drinking on first, second, or future dates. They’re also drawing singles together IRL: Drybaby, for example, has partnered with NYC- and LA-based companies like The Feels, which hosts “mindful” events, and Reading Rhythms, a group that throws reading parties.

In an interview with Dazed magazine, Catherine Gray, author of The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober, argues that drinking on dates can leave people confused about their true feelings. “Frequently, on the 7 p.m. first drink we’ll think, ‘Meh,’” she told the outlet. “On the second drink, ‘meh’ is a little more mesmerizing. Rinse and repeat four times, and suddenly you’re heavy petting someone you wouldn’t even ordinarily lightly pet.” 

When dating dry, there’s no alcohol-induced cloudiness about whether someone is actually a good potential match. And, at the very least—during a time when most of us are just trying to figure out how to pay rent each month—spending money on expensive drinks can wait for later dates, when you’re sure you have a crush. Keep an eye out for more of these NA apps and dating events in 2025. 

The Apps Are Here to Stay, But Users Aren’t

While dating apps aren’t necessarily going anywhere, users are starting to rely on them less when it comes to finding a potential partner. I wrote about this return to meeting people in person a few weeks back. It makes sense—we’re all burnt out and in need of a new way to find love, a fact that seems especially true for the younger generations. 

Recently, Time published a piece on the members of Gen Z choosing to dtich dating apps. Data from a 2023 Statista survey showed that, in the US, Gen Z makes up only 26 percent of dating app users, while Millennials come in at 61 percent. CNN reported that “singles mixers and other group dating parties have made a comeback since the Covid-19 pandemic ended as singles look to get off their screens and meet potential partners in person.” 

According to data from Eventbrite, attendance at singles’ events increased 42 percent between 2022 and 2023.  Those numbers are even higher when it comes to game- or sports-based dating meetups. So, if you’re looking to date in the next year, consider how to get out in your community and meet someone at the many dating events that have been popping up lately.

Singles Are Doing Away With “Types”

This one is an interesting one. Contra-dating is a concept that involves intentionally dating people you would normally not choose in order to broaden your options. Many of us tend to stick with what we know, and, in the dating world, that can lead to a cycle of bad relationships—or closing yourself off to a potential match just because they don’t fit what you’re used to.

I love the idea that people are opening up their dating pool by purposefully spending time with those who aren’t their type. And the idea isn’t at all foreign in popular culture—Love is Blind (despite its issues) takes this type of thinking to the most extreme level, and even rom-coms have used that formula for decades, pairing two individuals who are wildly different and letting viewers watch as they eventually fall in love. 

Contra-dating pushes you to be more open-minded and prioritize your core values over more surface-level things like physical appearance. It seems obvious to date outside of your normal pool, but how many of us actually take the leap? We often eliminate people quickly when they don’t match our past experiences or typical crush. 

This type of dating can also expose individuals to new hobbies, activities, or ways of thinking—so even if you don’t fall in love with someone new, they may introduce you to your new favorite thing.

Living in the Moment, No Matter the Outcome

In my own dating life, I’ve learned that putting too much pressure early on can lead to unnecessary arguments. On the other hand, future-faking—a tactic where someone makes false promises about commitment to keep someone invested in a relationship—can be harmful to those who are genuinely seeking a long-term partner.

“NATO” dating, or “not attached to the outcome,” is a term used to describe a form of dating that places an emphasis on living in the moment, day-by-day, with potential matches. In an interview with The Star, Paul C. Brunson, Tinder’s global relationship insights expert, said, “Instead of rushing into a ‘happily ever after,’ [users are] focusing on using the dating journey to accumulate a roster of new experiences and memories that enhance their personal stories.” 

When it comes to dating apps, every day can mean a new match or potential meetup—which, on the surface, can sound exciting. However, the amount of matches that don’t turn into a full-blown relationship can make us feel like there’s something wrong with us, not the algorithm.

Taking the NATO route means that you’re no longer worried about whether your next date is the one. Instead, you can free up your mind to take something away from every interaction you have, whether good or bad. Releasing our concerns about what’s next can also leave us more at ease when dating, meaning we’ll be more ourselves during those uncomfortable first meetups. 

According to Forbes, the benefits of NATO dating include pursuing mindful partnerships, prioritizing personal growth, embracing singlehood, seeking meaningful experiences, and assessing true compatibility. It makes sense. This approach to dating can help you let go of timelines and pre-existing expectations and allow you to get to know a person without all the pressure and anxiety of finding the love of your life.

What do you think? What other dating trends and predictions have you seen lately? Let me know. Email me at [email protected] and let me know which topics you’d like me to dig deeper into.

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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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.

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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.

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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.

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My girlfriend was tired and I was tipsy, so I danced alone at the gay bar. A woman—curly hair, Doc Martens, shirt with the sleeves cut off—shimmied over and leaned in close, shouting over the music.

“Are you a dyke?” she hollered.

I glanced at my very butch girlfriend, perched on a barstool nearby. I’d been darting over to smooch her at regular intervals. Duh, I thought, but settled for, “Yep!”

The woman gave me a once-over. “Dykes don’t wear shoes like that,” she declared. The footwear in question was a pair of black, sling-back kitten heels. 

It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of heterosexuality based solely on my affinity for uncomfortable shoes and lipstick (despite the latter being its own category of lesbianism). And most other femmes I know have faced the same scrutiny.

Being dismissed as the straight friend at the lesbian bar or having dating app matches assume you’re simply experimenting sucks—not only because it’s invalidating, but also because it makes it really hard to get dates.

While freshly out and hungry for community (and, frankly, a girlfriend), I used to go out of my way to look stereotypically “queer,” donning button-downs and chopping my hair short. As I settled into my identity, though, I found my way back to the super feminine style that felt most natural for me. I figured that any girl worth dating would find it sexy, not suspect—and while I was right, I do get approached by men far more than by women these days. 

It’s a gay dating struggle that came to mind right away when Nicolle asked if I was interested in guest writing for Unhinged, especially because newly out friends of mine have commented that—regardless of their presentation—just meeting women they like is one of the hardest aspects of entering the sapphic dating world. (We have dating apps, of course, but they’re afflicted by the same issues singles face when looking for heterosexual matches, with the added bonus of encountering tons of couples “looking for a third.”)

Being regularly read as straight on top of it all has meant that I’ve had to hone my flagging and flirting skills, often taking a more active role when it comes to meeting potential partners—a great confidence-builder. If you’re single and have been in my shoes (literally), here are my tips—ranked from least to most bold—for going forth and scoring dates. Happy gay dating!

Subtle Flagging

While technically the most passive move on this list, flagging can make all the following suggestions easier, as anyone who looks will get a pretty big hint right away that you’re into women. LGBTQ t-shirts and other goodies are easy alternatives to the shag haircuts and eyebrow piercings that ping gaydars (also, femmes can have those things; I just don’t). But I will be the first to admit that a lot of Pride apparel is not that cute. (Legions of gays make TikToks dunking on Target’s Pride collection every year for a reason.) 

I have found solace in cheeky baby tees like this one and this one. Though merch from lesbian-beloved artists holds less telling power as gay musicians crack mainstream charts, the classics—k.d. lang, Indigo Girls, Brandi Carlile—remain pretty firmly in the sapphic camp. Even more low-key is a rainbow pin on your tote bag or sticker on your water bottle.  

Join Gay Spaces

Whether you have one gay friend or 100, it never hurts to expand your network—the more queer women you know, the more likely you are to catch feelings for a new pal or get set up with cute singles. Plus, meeting someone in an LGBTQ space saves you both the Is she gay or just nice? panic that often plagues sapphic interactions.

Various local organizations offer beer league sports for LGBTQ folks. Some—including kickball, roller derby, cheerleading, flag football, and dragon boat racing—are dominated by shes and theys, either by happenstance or by design. Lesbian Run Club and its affiliated Lesbian Yoga Club are lower-comittment ways to get moving with fellow gays.

And you don’t have to sweat if you don’t want to. The Sapphic Book Club holds monthly events where dozens of LGBTQ folks meet to discuss a preselected gay novel or just hang out, and the queer-run Not Your Grandma’s Camera Club hosts photo walks for women and nonbinary photographers. Friends of mine have met partners while volunteering for Pride and other LGBTQ causes. 

Come Out—Strategically

We all want to fall in love at first sight after locking eyes with a woman over a pile of organic tomatoes at the farmers market. But IRL, epic romances often begin with “weak ties,” the sociological term for casual acquaintances and near-strangers in your network: the cute barista who always knows you want oat milk, the friendly girl with great arms who takes the same 7 a.m. pilates class as you, the neighbor you run into while you’re each taking your rescue dog for a walk.

I believe the potential for romantic connection with a casual acquaintance goes way up when you make a point to let them know you’re attracted to women. It doesn’t have to be awkward or forced—I once thought my hairstylist was pretty, so I joked in the chair that Harry Styles was the only man I was into. We ended up hanging out a few days after, and she brought flowers, signaling to me that it was definitely a date. 

Mentioning a Pride event when your elevator crush asks about your weekend plans, citing But I’m a Cheerleader in small talk about movies, or briefly referencing an ex with she/her pronouns (without bad-mouthing her, obviously) can all help turning chatting into flirting. 

Make the First Move

I know, I know—it’s scary! I’m not suggesting you walk up to the next girl you see with a mullet and ask her out (though if you are the kind of self-actualized legend who would do this, I salute you). But making meaningful eye contact with a woman at Gossip Grill—or, better yet, offering to buy her a drink—is far more effective than averting your gaze and hoping a handsome masc sends a G&T down the bar.

I’ve met women in the wild—that is, not-explicitly-gay spaces—simply by introducing myself and hoping for the best. Once, while alone at a crowded brewery, I asked a cute girl if I could join her group of friends at their table. After a couple hours, I had her number and, eventually, a date. Local events that bring a lot of people together informally, like Balboa Park’s Winyl Club or concerts and festivals, offer opportunities to compliment someone on her shirt or ask to pet her dog, kicking off a convo. 

As with the casual coming-out, you don’t need to be overly ceremonious about it. After all, there is a little truth to the “useless lesbian” stereotype—most of us, whether we’re rocking a carabiner full of keys on our belt or not, are just waiting for someone to make a move.

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: Dating Women When You Don’t “Look Gay” appeared first on San Diego Magazine.

Today, she’s in her 30s and, though she has had sexual experiences, she has never had a boyfriend, a fact that she’s shy about sharing. Her lack of chances to experiment with dating as a teen isn’t the only reason for her single status, she tells me, but she can’t help but think it’s continued to play a role.

Felicity wants to be in a relationship and, eventually, get married and start a family. It weighs heavily on her mind that, each year, she’s drawing closer to an age when conceiving children is more difficult. She’s not alone, either. 

Last year, data from the US Census Bureau showed that nearly 47 percent of the US population (or just over 117 million people) is currently single. And, according to a 2020 study by the Pew Research Center, 35 percent of the country’s unmarried adults have never been in a committed romantic relationship. 

On TikTok, women come together under the hashtag #neverhadaboyfriend, sharing their stories of single life in their late 20s, 30s, and 40s.

“There is this feeling of being undesirable and unworthy for a relationship, especially if you don’t have a relationship in your formative years like high school and even college,” says 26-year-old creator @nicole.farina. “It is this feeling that you can’t really shake.”

She goes on to say that she has trouble being vulnerable with men because, in the past, when she’s opened up about her feelings, they haven’t been reciprocated—making her feel like something is wrong with her. At time of publication, her video has garnered nearly 4,000 comments and more than 415,000 likes and has been shared 73,000 times.

It hit a nerve, and Felicity can relate. 

“There was a guy who was interested in my [college] roommate and I was interested in him, and I knew my roommate was not interested in him. We developed a friendship and I wished it could be something more,” Felicity says. “I got drunk one night and told him.” He let her know he didn’t feel the same.

For anyone who has ever dated, rejection is a normal part of the game. It’s never easy, but hearing “You’re a great person, but I think we’re better as friends” or “You’ll find someone amazing; it’s just not me” time and time again can do a real number on you mentally. 

“The one thing that comes up across the board is the insecurity around it. They’re uncomfortable sharing it. The underlying thing that comes through is shame around that,” says San Diego matchmaker Sophy Singer of Sophy Love, who has worked with many clients who have never been in a committed relationship. “They feel broken, like, What’s wrong with me? Why haven’t I been able to do this?”

And society doesn’t make it any easier on them. 

Writing for Psychology Today, Bella DePaulo, PhD, explores the stigma faced by “relationship virgins,” people who have never had a romantic relationship. Her research found that people tend to view them as lonelier than others, less happy, and less well-adjusted.

Admittedly, when I’ve gone out with people in the past, hearing that I’d be a guy’s first-ever girlfriend has made me question whether he was ready to date or not. Without realizing it, I’ve probably fed into the lie that more experience equals a better partner. 

But when I stop to think about Felicity, I’m immediately aware of my error. She’s quick-witted, attractive, smart, and fun to be around. I get the sense that, while inexperienced, she’d make for a pretty great partner. She just hasn’t had a chance to showcase those qualities—and maybe that’s okay.

“The positive [of being a ‘relationship virgin’] is that you probably haven’t been wounded over [past relationships],” Singer says. “I think when people get to this point, they have generally kept themselves social and happy and fulfilled in other ways. What’s so cool is that now this is their next chapter of growth. It’s almost like coming to a blank canvas.”

“Baggage” is a term that’s come up a lot in my chats with San Diego singles over the last six months. It’s no secret that the older we are, the more likely we are to have learned bad dating habits or gone through traumatic experiences with ex-partners. And our past affects how we date. 

In that sense, coming into a relationship without experience can be a boon. Moreover, people who have remained single into adulthood have had ample time to figure out who they are without the influence of a partner. 

“I could make decisions for my future—like going across the country for grad school [and] traveling—without feeling held back,” Felicity says of being single throughout her 20s. “Relationship virgins” often have rich social lives, fun hobbies, a healthy sense of independence—all qualities many of us look for in a partner.

And as Dr. DePaulo points out in her article, the word “[relationship] encompasses friendships, family ties, bonds with neighbors and mentors, camaraderie with teammates, and more, in addition to romantic links. If you have had any of those kinds of relationships, you are not a ‘relationship virgin.’”

Whether a person has had multiple serious partnerships or zero, observing their connections with their friends, family, even coworkers will typically teach you more about how they interact with other humans than stories about their exes ever will.

For her part, Felicity remains hopeful. As we wrap up our chat, she shares the qualities she’s looking for in a man. 

“Someone that I can laugh with, someone who is a little bit more extroverted. Someone who is educated, and cultured” she says. “I like sports, too. So someone who is going to just watch football on Sundays with me.” 

Men, if you’re not reading “catch” from that last line, we need to talk. 

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: I’ve Never Been in a Relationship appeared first on San Diego Magazine.