The Dating World: Filters, Frogs, and Finding Love

The Dating World: Filters, Frogs, and Finding Love Today I want to talk about the dating world—something I honestly know very little about. I’ve been in a long-term relationship for many years, and while it isn’t perfect, it’s perfect for me. I’m happy, settled, and deeply grateful. What sparked this reflection is watching friends step into the modern dating scene—mostly through dating apps. Their stories are fascinating, funny, heartbreaking, and sometimes downright shocking. One friend, in particular, joined a dating app because of his demanding work schedule. Between long hours and daily responsibilities, meeting someone organically just wasn’t happening. On the app, he connected with a woman he found beautiful. They discovered they had a lot in common, and after several months of messaging back and forth, they decided to meet in person. They chose a busy coffee shop—public, comfortable, and safe. When he arrived, he scanned the room but couldn’t find her. Just as he was about to sit down, someone tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Nice to finally meet you.” He turned around—and froze. She smiled and introduced herself. It was her, but she looked nothing like her photos. When he mentioned it, she shrugged and said, “I used filters.” Later, he told me he felt disappointed. The woman in the pictures looked much younger and slimmer, and in real life she was simply a different version of herself. He admitted she was still cute, but he wished she had been honest. Maybe he would have chosen her anyway—but at least he would have known who he was meeting. He went on that one date and then ghosted her. I told him I thought that was a little unfair. If I were in her shoes, I’d rather hear, “You’re not my type, but I wish you well,” than be left wondering. To each their own, but if you’re dating online, my advice is simple: use real photos. No filters. Be yourself. Stories like this make me grateful that I’m married and happy. I remember when dating meant meeting someone in real life. If it became serious, the person met your family. Sometimes permission was even asked from parents. There were no apps—just people, face to face. But we live in a technology-driven world now, and dating apps have become the norm. Another friend of mine thought she was happily married—until her husband told her he wanted a divorce because he was in love with someone else. She was devastated, but she also understood that you can’t force someone to stay if their heart has already left. Eventually, she joined a dating app and joked that she met a lot of frogs. One date, in particular, stood out. The man asked her to meet him at a park. She agreed, but it was hot and humid, and she suggested a coffee shop or diner instead. His response? “I don’t know you well enough to pay for your meal.” She calmly told him she had a college degree, a great job, and her own home—and that she could absolutely pay for herself. Still, that comment told her everything she needed to know. She ended the date early and never saw him again. Good for her. My father always said that when you go on a date, out of courtesy, the man should pay—not because the woman can’t afford it, but because it shows care. A willingness to show up during life’s gray moments—the sadness, the disappointments, the hard days. My husband always paid when we were dating, even though once we moved in together, we both contributed equally. And here’s the beautiful part: that same friend eventually met an amazing man through a dating app. They’ve now been married for about ten years. She sold her house, they bought a barn together, and she truly found her soulmate. So yes—it does happen. You just have to be honest. And again… no filters. Dating has changed in so many ways. When I was in high school, I attended an international school with classmates from India and the Middle East. Many spoke openly about arranged marriages. Some trusted their parents completely to choose the right partner. Others were introduced to someone and allowed to get to know them—with a chaperone present. If they didn’t feel a connection, they could say so, and the parents would look for another match. Some classmates had no choice at all and believed love would come with time. I listened without judgment, but I was grateful to come from a culture where love and choice go hand in hand. Later, while working in the social services field, I encountered another side of arranged marriage—one that stayed with me. One morning, while enrolling a woman into a program, she suddenly began to cry. She told me she was unhappy, that her husband wanted more children, and that she didn’t love him. When I asked why she had married him, she said quietly, “My father traded me for two donkeys and a carriage.” I was stunned. My manager stepped in, and the woman eventually received help—especially since there was physical abuse involved. That moment made me count my blessings. I love you, Mom and Dad. Sadly, these kinds of arrangements still exist today. One final story: my sister once traveled to Egypt and India with a friend. While climbing onto a camel, a young man approached her and asked who her parents were. He joked that he would trade her for three camels. She smiled and replied, “No thanks—we do things differently where I come from.” And that, to me, says it all. The dating world has changed, but one thing remains true: whether love is found through an app, an introduction, or pure chance—honesty, kindness, and authenticity matter most. No filters require.