Three Weeks on Hinge

Notes on dating apps, letting go of control, and finding someone unexpectedly.

A few weeks ago I asked myself, “How does it serve me to be without a partner in life?”
The answer came immediately: “It’s easier.”

Easier to only take care of myself (though lately even that feels like a lot). Easier not to consider another person’s needs, moods, or rhythms.

Since moving to Australia, I’ve simplified my life. I’ve always cared a lot about others—too much, sometimes. “Acts of service” wasn’t just my love language, it was the way I thought I had to earn love. Not just romantically, but in friendships and family, too. Approval, validation, connection—it all felt conditional on me being “the good girl.”

My aunt often says to me, “Enough with the good girl.”
But it’s hard to shake something you’ve been trained into since childhood: behave, serve, be perfect.

Being single for seven years has slowly unraveled all of that. It’s changed me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

Back in April, a colleague and I made a pact: join Hinge in August. It felt far away then. We laughed about it in June, reminding each other. August came—she joined, I didn’t. I resisted for a few days, then thought, What the hell, what do I have to lose?

I gave myself a deadline of three weeks (I work better with timelines). This time, I had zero expectations. I also knew I didn’t want endless chatting, so I made it clear upfront: I’d rather meet in person quickly. If that scared someone off, perfect—that saved us both time.

To my surprise, it worked.

In three weeks, I went on five first dates, one repeat date, and—unexpectedly—met someone who’s already become part of my life. Every single person I met was kind and genuine. For the first time, the apps didn’t leave me anxious or discouraged. Maybe it’s timing, maybe it’s me—probably both.

I’m not here to give advice (no “five things you should do” list). But here’s what shifted for me:

• I allowed for differences. Normally I’m picky, noticing every little detail and judging quickly. This time I relaxed into the discomfort of someone having different views. Long-term, that might matter—but in the short term, it opened a door I would’ve closed.

• I let go of control. From choosing the café for a first date to deciding how fast (or slow) a relationship should move, I stopped trying to steer everything.

• I broke my own patterns. I usually date older people, but this time I was surprised by someone younger—gentle, wise, and kind. (If you’re reading this, R—you’re amazing.) The person I’m now seeing happens to be older, but I honestly don’t notice the difference.

• I stayed completely myself. On my profile, on dates, in conversations—I didn’t try to impress. I’m finally so comfortable in my own skin that pretending just isn’t an option anymore.

So yes: I’m now three weeks into seeing someone new. It’s joyful, exciting—and also a little disorienting.

Seven years of single life gave me total freedom (and some very sloppy time management). Now I actually want to make space for someone else, which means I’ll need to practice all the productivity tricks I’ve only been reading about. Luckily, we share things I love—like being outdoors—so some of that time together is effortless.

It’s a new phase. One where we’ll both be figuring out what works. What’s most surprising is realizing how much I actually have changed. For years I felt stuck, frustrated, like all my self-work wasn’t “working.” But now, looking in the mirror of another person, I can see the progress. Some things only reveal themselves in relationship; isolation can only take you so far.

To those of you still reading: this is also why I’ve been quiet here on Substack. My routines are shifting, but I still want to keep writing—even if I don’t quite know what I’m doing.

Thanks for being here.

Love,
Kat