Due to an unexpected alignment of the stars back in 2004, my small nuclear family and I moved to the city of endless sunshine and I’m so thankful for the ultra-convenience this metropolis offers, especially when it trickles down to the efficiency of our dating scene.
Like every self-proclaimed dating guru out there, I’d like to preface this by saying I am very content with my single life. I’d also like to add that this does not mean I am in any way qualified to be dishing out relationship advice. According to the movie 2012, the world was supposed to end 12-years-ago—which, coincidentally, is also the same year that Tinder was launched. Four years of global online dating hype later, I finally caved and joined just as my college journey was beginning.
If you were ever a part of Tinder in the late 2010s, you’ll know that there was never a better time to have been on this app and going from having no prospective partners to having an abundance with just a flick of the finger. Eventually, started the progressive downfall of all our dating lives; mine being no exception to that rule although there wasn’t really much of one pre-Tinder.
I have to admit, I came across some incredible characters during my years of meeting up with people from dating apps. I mean, where else would I find a diving instructor who also tames sharks and other wild aquatic animals? Obviously, he wasn’t “the one,” but at least I learned more about the world of marine biology.
In some twisted way, dating has always felt like a path of self-discovery. But in a bustling city like Dubai, finding yourself is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, except the haystack is full of self-absorbed young adults—and you’re one of them.
One of my first “talking stages” in Dubai was with a full-time stand-up comedian and actor who claimed he could do a spot-on impersonation of John Mulaney. Obviously, the only thing that actually intrigued me was his height—6’2. We grabbed a couple of drinks at a quirky little bar that was just pretentious enough to be endearing, and he regaled me with tales of his comedy gigs and auditions. However, as the date progressed, his stand-up routine never seemed to stop. Every conversation topic somehow looped back to a joke or a story about his latest performance. It was like being on a never-ending episode of a sitcom where I was the only audience member. By the end of our date, I felt more like a fan than a potential partner. And that Mulaney imitation wasn’t even worth it.
After five months of dating and apps, nearly every first date went the same way: I would meet them, they would talk about themselves non-stop, and then we’d go our separate ways. I wondered if this is just what dating is going to be like for my generation or was I just particularly unlucky? Perhaps it was the city’s transient nature, with people constantly coming and going, that made it so hard to find a genuine connection. Was it something about the cultural melting pot, where everyone seemed to be chasing their own version of a perfect, but ultimately superficial, romance? Questions swirled in my mind as I continued to swipe, message, and meet new people. I couldn’t help but grow disillusioned.
As I entered my mid-20s, I started focusing on myself and began traveling. This didn’t stop me from venturing out and getting on the apps (again) in new territories from North Carolina to Singapore where, to my surprise, dating felt much different—much better, in fact. Whether it was a cozy little cafe in Leipzig or a busy flea market in Manhattan, the vibe was distinctly more relaxed and genuine. My dates seemed more interested in getting to know me rather than impressing me with their latest Instagram-worthy adventures from their camera roll.
Suddenly, my journal was filled with stories of unexpected adventures, like taking what was supposed to be a “short” eight-mile walk in a park in Berlin, or cheering on the lead vocalist of a local atheist metal band in Raleigh. In New York, I met a video game designer who grew up in the city so he took me on a free tour while spitting out facts about the Hudson river. In Amsterdam, I spent an evening with a tech entrepreneur who shared his dreams and fears with a refreshing openness that I felt was just so rare back home in Dubai.
Provided.
It wasn’t just the people though; it was also about how I felt in these places. Being away from Dubai’s relentless pace and glittering facade allowed me to let my guard down. I didn’t feel the same pressure to present a polished version of myself that I’ve grown up honing. Instead, I could be more authentic—or better yet, be a whole new person. Maybe this is exactly what those tourists and temporary residents who I was swiping on in Dubai also felt. Maybe they viewed me as rigid and boxed in, and they’re probably writing articles about me too on the other side of the world titled “What Dating in Dubai is Like.”
There’s always a certain lightness, a sense of freedom that comes with being in a foreign land. There’s something thrilling about the unfamiliarity. The expectations are different, and so are the stakes. Every encounter feels like an adventure, not a test. I can enjoy the moment without constantly questioning if they are the one. It reminds me that sometimes, finding a connection is less about the place and more about the space you allow yourself to occupy.
So, after this summer, as I come back to the furnace that is the UAE, I’m hoping to apply the same set of rules I follow when dating during my travels around the globe: Appreciate the beauty of spontaneity, embrace the unexpected, and be fully engaged and present since the first moment I meet someone new. See? NOT a dating guru.
