I hate online dating, but as a single woman living abroad, the pros outweigh the cons
Sinead Mulhern is a single woman living abroad in Ecuador.
She has canceled dating apps from her phone several times.
But has decided that the benefits of using dating apps while living abroad outweigh the negatives.
Between applying layers of sunscreen during a day at the beach, I delete the dating apps from my phone. Good riddance, I think.
But in a moment of boredom, a few weeks later, they're back. "Maybe this time…," I tell myself.
By now, deleting dating apps feels about as monumental as taking out the trash. I can't even recall how many times I've removed Tinder and Bumble from my phone, telling myself I would be better off without them.
I have a love-hate relationship with dating apps, and I'm sure anyone else who's single and swiping in 2025 can relate.
On top of the chaos that already comes with decision fatigue and endless small talk, I live abroad, so cultural differences and the second-language barrier also come into play. And frankly, after living abroad alone for 7 years, I'm surprised I haven't developed carpal tunnel from all the swiping.
Over the years, I've developed some grievances with the apps and dating culture in general.
Recently, a friend and I recounted some absurd dating stories — memories we wish we could block out forever.
There were the guys who had secret wives or girlfriends (a Tinder classic), the bad kissers, the guy who fell asleep while eating dinner, and the one who we discovered sold guns illegally (I wish I were joking).
More recently, there was a seemingly pleasant man who took me out for dinner, messaged the following day, and then vanished into thin air. (Ghosting. Another Tinder classic.)
These are just a handful of our Tinder tales — the hall of fame, so to speak.
"The expectation-versus-reality of dating apps would be like if you went to a steakhouse but all they had was canned tuna," I said to my friend.
We laughed ourselves into stitches. I've never been more grateful for female friendship. Laughter heals. Honestly? It is pretty funny.
There can be a stigma around dating apps — something I've noticed more living in Ecuador than in Toronto, where I lived before.
Anecdotally, North American women have a reputation here for being more forward or casual when it comes to dating, which can influence how we're perceived, fairly or not.
Another stereotype is that these are "just hookup apps." Although I've found that dating apps are for whatever you're looking for, be it a relationship, new friends, or something in between, so long as you're clear.
Besides, I've seen men creepily shoot their shot just about anywhere — the corner store, a taxi, my running route, bars where they work, hotel receptions, even grocery stores. If dating apps are a space for hookups, apparently so is everywhere else.
At least apps come with filters and block buttons.
Still, in 2025, these modern systems have their ups as well.
I've met many great people through dating apps — some I remain in touch with. I've learned about places I'd love to go to one day from people from Spain, Argentina, and Venezuela.
Not having expectations anymore means I'm open to the friendships, fun dates, and meaningful conversations that do come along.
I've developed a deep appreciation for the good. For example, soon after arriving in Ecuador, I considered it a win to go on dates in Spanish, practice speaking, and learn about the culture.
During that time, I went to a bar dedicated to a specific soccer team, took a motorcycle ride to the city's lookout point, found what became my beer spot, and tried a local dish, encebollado, for the first time.
The first time I went out with someone in Spanish, I felt so proud to hold a conversation all night. Dating apps have played a significant role in speaking Spanish with fluidity. That's a tangible win.
I notice the little things too — like how holding restaurant or car doors open for me is second nature to South American men, and how Sundays are reserved for family. Neither is standard back home, and these small gestures reveal something lovely about Ecuadorians.
When I travel, exploring the mountains, cities, and coastline, I swipe through profiles to see if there's someone interesting to meet.
I'm happy on my own, but meeting others can add to travel experiences.
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I hate online dating, but as a single woman living abroad, the pros outweigh the cons
Sinead Mulhern is a single woman living abroad in Ecuador. She has canceled dating apps from her phone several times. But has decided that the benefits of using dating apps while living abroad outweigh the negatives. Between applying layers of sunscreen during a day at the beach, I delete the dating apps from my phone. Good riddance, I think. But in a moment of boredom, a few weeks later, they're back. "Maybe this time…," I tell myself. By now, deleting dating apps feels about as monumental as taking out the trash. I can't even recall how many times I've removed Tinder and Bumble from my phone, telling myself I would be better off without them. I have a love-hate relationship with dating apps, and I'm sure anyone else who's single and swiping in 2025 can relate. On top of the chaos that already comes with decision fatigue and endless small talk, I live abroad, so cultural differences and the second-language barrier also come into play. And frankly, after living abroad alone for 7 years, I'm surprised I haven't developed carpal tunnel from all the swiping. Over the years, I've developed some grievances with the apps and dating culture in general. Recently, a friend and I recounted some absurd dating stories — memories we wish we could block out forever. There were the guys who had secret wives or girlfriends (a Tinder classic), the bad kissers, the guy who fell asleep while eating dinner, and the one who we discovered sold guns illegally (I wish I were joking). More recently, there was a seemingly pleasant man who took me out for dinner, messaged the following day, and then vanished into thin air. (Ghosting. Another Tinder classic.) These are just a handful of our Tinder tales — the hall of fame, so to speak. "The expectation-versus-reality of dating apps would be like if you went to a steakhouse but all they had was canned tuna," I said to my friend. We laughed ourselves into stitches. I've never been more grateful for female friendship. Laughter heals. Honestly? It is pretty funny. There can be a stigma around dating apps — something I've noticed more living in Ecuador than in Toronto, where I lived before. Anecdotally, North American women have a reputation here for being more forward or casual when it comes to dating, which can influence how we're perceived, fairly or not. Another stereotype is that these are "just hookup apps." Although I've found that dating apps are for whatever you're looking for, be it a relationship, new friends, or something in between, so long as you're clear. Besides, I've seen men creepily shoot their shot just about anywhere — the corner store, a taxi, my running route, bars where they work, hotel receptions, even grocery stores. If dating apps are a space for hookups, apparently so is everywhere else. At least apps come with filters and block buttons. Still, in 2025, these modern systems have their ups as well. I've met many great people through dating apps — some I remain in touch with. I've learned about places I'd love to go to one day from people from Spain, Argentina, and Venezuela. Not having expectations anymore means I'm open to the friendships, fun dates, and meaningful conversations that do come along. I've developed a deep appreciation for the good. For example, soon after arriving in Ecuador, I considered it a win to go on dates in Spanish, practice speaking, and learn about the culture. During that time, I went to a bar dedicated to a specific soccer team, took a motorcycle ride to the city's lookout point, found what became my beer spot, and tried a local dish, encebollado, for the first time. The first time I went out with someone in Spanish, I felt so proud to hold a conversation all night. Dating apps have played a significant role in speaking Spanish with fluidity. That's a tangible win. I notice the little things too — like how holding restaurant or car doors open for me is second nature to South American men, and how Sundays are reserved for family. Neither is standard back home, and these small gestures reveal something lovely about Ecuadorians. When I travel, exploring the mountains, cities, and coastline, I swipe through profiles to see if there's someone interesting to meet. I'm happy on my own, but meeting others can add to travel experiences. Read the original article on Business Insider
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