Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. For a while I was swiping so much I was barely thinking. Dating apps had hijacked my fingers, brain and evenings. I’d swipe left, mindlessly and without even looking, under the table at group dinners or during TV ad breaks. I’d fanatically check my new matches at the end of each day. “This is modern dating,” I’d tell myself. “It’s a job. I have to keep on going. This is the key to my happy ending.”
擦。刷卡。刷卡。有一段時間，我刷得太多了，我幾乎不思考。約會應用程式劫持了我的手指、大腦和夜晚。我會在集體聚餐或電視廣告休息期間，漫不經心地向左滑動，甚至不看一眼。我會在每天結束時狂熱地檢查我的新比賽。“這是現代約會，”我會告訴自己。“這是一份工作。我必須繼續前進。這是我幸福結局的關鍵。
For months, this was my normality. But unsurprisingly, the lifelong romance I was looking for never materialised. As I sat on my sofa on yet another Sunday night ready to swipe until I ran out of steam, I decided I’d finally had enough. Even if my screen was flooded with likes or messages, my forays into dating app culture had rarely ended with in-person dates. I’d spend hours agonising over a single response – I needed to be funny, cool and captivating but not give too much away. But why was I so desperate to impress a distant stranger trapped behind a screen? What was I doing all the monotonous swiping for? I decided I needed to go cold turkey and figure out why I had been sucked in so completely.
幾個月來，這是我的常態。但不出所料，我一直在尋找的終生浪漫從未實現。在又一個星期天晚上，當我坐在沙發上準備刷卡直到我筋疲力盡時，我決定我終於受夠了。即使我的螢幕上充斥著點讚或消息，我對約會應用文化的嘗試也很少以面對面的約會結束。我會花幾個小時為一個回應而苦惱——我需要有趣、酷炫、迷人，但又不能透露太多。但是，為什麼我如此迫切地想要給一個被困在螢幕後面的遙遠的陌生人留下深刻印象呢？我做所有單調的刷卡是為了什麼？我決定我需要去冷火雞，弄清楚為什麼我被完全吸進去了。
I realised that, a lot of the time, I was swiping out of boredom. Instead of twiddling my thumbs, enjoying the few moments in the day when I had no responsibilities, I’d reach for my phone. The immediate thrill of going through a pile of likes was unlike anything else. I was addicted to the dopamine rush and the feeling of being wanted – “This person likes me,” I’d gush. “This could be the start of our future.”
我意識到，很多時候，我是在無聊中刷卡。與其擺弄我的拇指，享受一天中沒有責任的片刻，我會伸手去拿我的手機。經歷一堆喜歡的直接快感是與眾不同的。我沉迷於多巴胺的衝動和被通緝的感覺——“這個人喜歡我，”我會滔滔不絕。“這可能是我們未來的開始。”
Then my mind would start its journey of invention, because each new connection would bring with it fresh possibility. As I’d stare at the smiling photos carefully selected by my prospective lover, I’d plan out our life together. I’d envision the ordinary weekday evenings, the things we’d talk about, the holidays and anniversaries. I’d consider their favourite meal, the time they went to bed and how many siblings they might have. In just a few short seconds, I’d draw them a backstory so perfect and full they’d never be able to live up to my creation. And all before we’d even sat down face to face.
然後我的思想將開始它的發明之旅，因為每一個新的聯繫都會帶來新的可能性。當我盯著我未來的情人精心挑選的微笑照片時，我會計劃我們一起生活。我會想像平常的工作日晚上，我們談論的事情，假期和周年紀念日。我會考慮他們最喜歡的飯菜，他們上床睡覺的時間以及他們可能有多少兄弟姐妹。在短短的幾秒鐘內，我就會為他們畫出一個如此完美和完整的背景故事，他們永遠無法辜負我的創作。而這一切都發生在我們面對面坐下來之前。
But worse than the sense of promise was its fleeting nature. No sooner had I dreamed up a fantasy life with a potential match, I’d be on to daydreaming about the next person. Everything existed in hypothetical passing flashes. There were endless possible connections out there: all I had to do was keep swiping and waiting. Even when messages were exchanged and the idea of a date was floated, more often than not I’d cancel. I’d already be on to dreaming of something and someone new just one, two or 100 clicks away.
但比承諾感更糟糕的是它轉瞬即逝的本質。一旦我夢想著一個有潛在伴侶的幻想生活，我就會開始做下一個人的白日夢。一切都存在於假設的閃光中。那裡有無窮無盡的可能連接：我所要做的就是繼續滑動和等待。即使交換了資訊並提出了約會的想法，我通常也會取消。我已經在夢想著一些東西和新人，只需點擊一次、兩次或 100 次。
To give myself the best chance at romance, I knew I had to look good and that my profile must be regularly updated. On holidays, I itched to get pictures of me looking sun-kissed. At family meals I’d grin, waiting for the camera to click. I’d analyse the photos in forensic detail, zooming in on my face just to make sure it was perfect. All of it fuelled an unhealthy obsession with appearance.
為了給自己最好的浪漫機會，我知道我必須看起來不錯，而且我的個人資料必須定期更新。在假期里，我很想拍到我被陽光親吻的照片。在家庭聚餐時，我會咧嘴一笑，等待相機發出咔嗒聲。我會用法醫的細節分析照片，放大我的臉，以確保它是完美的。所有這些都助長了對外表的不健康癡迷。
Despite the countless hours I spent glued to my phone, the endless conveyor belt of matches never brought me any joy. Dates I’d romanticised for weeks turned out to be below-average hours that dragged by. I’d bore myself by exchanging with strangers the same job details, facts about my housemates and things I liked to do at the weekend. I’d reel out the same jokes and same stories in the same well-practised jargon on dates. But I always left feeling hopeless – even with so many options, I wasn’t having any luck. The early fun and excitement of what the apps promised slowly moved into something that felt like a chore. Though I once skipped into dates feeling like the star of my own romcom, I soon felt jaded, realising they would likely go nowhere. I felt like a hamster on a wheel. I was running constantly, and I was exhausted by the relentless churn.
儘管我花了無數個小時盯著手機，但無休止的火柴傳送帶從未給我帶來任何快樂。我浪漫化了幾個星期的約會結果卻是低於平均水平的時間。我會通過與陌生人交換相同的工作細節、關於室友的事實以及我喜歡在週末做的事情來讓自己感到厭煩。我會在約會時用同樣訓練有素的行話講同樣的笑話和同樣的故事。但我總是感到絕望——即使有這麼多選擇，我也沒有運氣。應用程式承諾的早期樂趣和興奮慢慢變成了一件苦差事。雖然我曾經跳過約會，感覺自己就像是我自己的浪漫喜劇的明星，但我很快就感到厭倦了，意識到他們可能無處可去。我感覺自己就像一隻輪子上的倉鼠。我一直在奔跑，我被無情的攪動弄得筋疲力盡。
Sometimes I still pick up my phone expecting dating apps to be there, like an old friend. But most of the time I don’t miss them. Now they’re banished from my screen, I’ve entered a new phase of encouraging relationships founded in reality. And although they haven’t always ended in success, it has been refreshing to lean into conversations in bars, reconnect with people I’ve not seen for years and be open to possibility.
有時我仍然會拿起手機，期待約會應用程式在那裡，就像一個老朋友一樣。但大多數時候我不會想念他們。現在他們被從我的屏幕上驅逐出去，我進入了一個鼓勵建立在現實中的關係的新階段。儘管他們並不總是以成功告終，但在酒吧里交談，與我多年未見的人重新建立聯繫，並對各種可能性持開放態度，這令人耳目一新。
As each week goes by, I’ve started to care less about my romantic endeavours too. Instead I throw myself into friendships and have more time to work, and my screen time has gone down dramatically. The people I already know have become my priority, and I feel more fulfilled by their company than I’ve ever been with anyone I’d spoken to on an app. I’ve realised that life isn’t a race to be played out on dating apps – it’s about living in the moment.
隨著每周的流逝，我也開始不那麼關心我的浪漫事業了。相反，我把自己投入到友誼中，有更多的時間工作，我的屏幕時間急劇下降。我已經認識的人已經成為我的首要任務，我感到他們的陪伴比我在應用程式上與任何人交談過的人都更有成就感。我意識到，生活不是一場在約會應用程式上玩的比賽——而是活在當下。
Deep down I’m a romantic at heart, and I still fantasise about my idyllic future. I’m just not totally consumed with finding ways to make it happen. But who knows? There are thousands of people out there still looking.
在內心深處，我是一個浪漫主義者，我仍然幻想著我田園詩般的未來。我只是沒有完全專注於尋找實現它的方法。但誰知道呢？有成千上萬的人仍然在尋找。
Anya Ryan is a freelance journalist
