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I’m just a typical guy. I’m 63, single, no kids, straight, and I’ve always loved women. I have been cheated on and lied to, just like everyone has. I try to treat people kindly, with respect. I’ve never cheated, never lied to someone I was with, and at this stage in life, I’m not chasing anything. I’m just living simply, sailing when I can, and enjoying the days I’m lucky to have.
Earlier today, while browsing the web in search of a new sailboat, I came across an ad for a dating site. I wasn’t lonely or even looking. I was just curious. I hadn’t been on a dating site since the 1990s, when I helped produce the infomercial for Match.com. So I clicked the link.
Thirty-four minutes later, I deleted my account.
It cost me twenty dollars. In that short span, I received 230 messages. And by the time I closed the tab, I felt something I hadn’t expected at all. I felt a deep and lingering sadness.
I had uploaded a single photo. My bio simply said that I’m testing the app; you can Google me for more information. I used the photo in this article. It was just me. No filters, no polish, just the same snapshot I use on all my profiles. I took it myself. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I know I’m not some kind of catch. So when those messages started pouring in, something didn’t feel right.
I opened about thirty profiles. Nearly all the photos were altered, enhanced, or completely AI-generated. Most didn’t even look human. Some were beautiful in a strange, stylized way. A few women wrote with real emotion, but many messages felt scripted, like they had been copied from a bot or a generic prompt. The older women came across as frustrated or impatient. The younger ones, overly polished and eerily perfect, just didn’t seem real.
I chatted with two women briefly. One, 34 years old, told me she regularly receives unsolicited explicit photos from men. That broke my heart, too. She also said she pays to use the site. So here we were, two strangers, both paying a company just to talk, just to maybe feel a little less alone.
That was when it really hit me. I didn’t know if anyone I’d seen was real. They could have been bots. They could have been workers in another country, running a scam. Or maybe they were real women who felt they had no choice but to hide behind filters and AI images. Either way, this wasn’t a connection. It was a performance. It felt like manipulation dressed up as intimacy.
But the most painful thought was this. If these women were genuine, then it’s even more heartbreaking. These were women brave enough to put themselves out there, yet convinced that their real selves were not enough.
That’s not a judgment. That’s grief.
I found myself staring at profile after profile, wondering what it must feel like to believe that your true face, your natural smile, or your unedited life could never be worthy of love. It made me realize how much pressure women are under, how cruel these platforms can be, and how easily they turn vulnerability into profit.
This site wasn’t just trying to match people. It was making money off loneliness. Mine, theirs, anyone’s. It wanted me to keep clicking, keep chatting, and keep paying, not for real connection, but for the illusion of it.
What’s worse is that it rewarded dishonesty. It encouraged people to present a version of themselves that wasn’t true. That’s not just sad, it’s unsustainable. What happens when two people meet and discover they have both been pretending? The whole thing falls apart. And the cycle starts again.
I’m not angry at the women. I don’t blame them. I feel compassion for them and, honestly, for all of us. We are caught in something none of us asked for. These women are doing what they feel they have to do just to be seen. That isn’t vanity. That’s survival in a system that values appearances over truth.
I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I’m not remarkable or anything close to a prize. But I am real. And that should count for something.
So here is my challenge to the tech world. Stop monetizing misery. Build a dating site that honors honesty. Create a space where a genuine photo and a few heartfelt yet awkward words are enough. Let people show up as they are and feel seen, not judged.
Until that exists, I’m out. I deleted my account, and I won’t go back.
To anyone still searching for something genuine, I wish you all the best in the world. You deserve it. We all do.
