You Are Not a Product (Even If Dating Apps Treat You Like One)

A client said something to me recently that stopped me in my tracks.

He was talking about dating apps—about his frustration, his discouragement, the sense that nothing ever seems to work—and he referred to himself as a product that isn’t selling.

I felt my chest tighten when he said it.

Not because I didn’t understand what he meant.

But because I’ve spent enough time with him to know how deeply human he is.

And yet, there it was: a quiet grief hiding inside a perfectly reasonable sentence. A sentence that makes complete sense in the context of modern dating—and that reveals something deeply broken about the way we’ve been taught to understand connection.

When Dating Becomes a Marketplace

If you’ve spent any time on dating apps, it’s almost impossible not to internalize marketplace logic.

Profiles become listings.

Photos become packaging.

Bios become marketing copy.

We swipe, assess, compare, discard.

And over time, something subtle but corrosive happens: we stop experiencing rejection as relational—and start experiencing it as personal failure.

If someone doesn’t choose us, it’s easy to conclude:

• I’m not attractive enough.

• I don’t have enough status.

• I’m not interesting enough.

• I’m not competitive in the “sexual marketplace.”

That language didn’t come from nowhere. It’s been amplified by corners of the internet that frame dating as an economy of value, ranking, and scarcity. I don’t subscribe to much of what the manosphere teaches—but I’ll say this plainly:

Dating apps themselves reinforce this mindset.

Not because they’re evil.

Not because they never work.

But because they are structured like marketplaces, and marketplaces shape how we see ourselves.

The Quiet Cost of Being “Marketable”

A product is designed to appeal to as many people as possible.

A human being is not.

When dating becomes a problem of optimization—better photos, sharper copy, stronger positioning—the goal subtly shifts from connection to conversion.

You might get more matches.

But often, you lose something just as important: your sense of yourself as a felt presence.

I see this frequently in my work.

People begin editing themselves not from truth, but from fear.

They exaggerate confidence.

They suppress tenderness.

They hide parts that feel too soft, too complex, or too much.

And then they wonder why the connections that follow feel hollow—or why rejection feels devastating.

Because when your worth is on the line, rejection doesn’t just sting.

It confirms your deepest fears.

What I Actually Do (and Don’t Do)

While I have helped clients navigate dating apps or refine their profiles, my objective has never been to make someone more marketable.

My work is not about turning human beings into better products.

My goal is to help people thrive as their most authentic selves—to feel grounded in who they are, confident in their presence, and resourced enough to engage in dating without losing themselves in the process.

That means supporting people in:

• Understanding their nervous systems

• Clarifying what kind of connection actually nourishes them

• Building confidence that isn’t dependent on constant validation

• Staying embodied and self-trusting in environments that encourage comparison

Sometimes that includes practical guidance.

But it never includes teaching someone that their worth depends on how well they sell themselves.

A Necessary Acknowledgment

I also want to name something important.

I come to this work from a place of relative privilege. I meet enough of society’s standards around attractiveness that gaining attention has rarely been my primary struggle.

But attention has never been the same as connection.

Being wanted does not guarantee being known, understood, or emotionally met. And being desirable does not protect anyone from loneliness, misattunement, or relationships that never quite land.

This distinction—between access and attunement—is central to my work. I care deeply about helping people build the kind of confidence that changes how they carry themselves—confidence rooted in self-trust, embodiment, and authenticity. That kind of confidence often makes people more attractive, not because they’ve been better packaged, but because they’re more fully themselves.

From Marketplace to Meeting Place

I don’t tell my clients to avoid dating apps. They’re part of modern life, and many loving relationships begin there.

But I do invite a shift in mindset.

What if you treated dating apps not as a marketplace—but as a meeting place?

A place to encounter other humans, not to audition.

A place to notice how you feel in your body when you engage.

A place to practice being yourself, rather than a version of yourself designed to perform.

This doesn’t mean you stop caring.

It means you stop selling.

And paradoxically, that’s often when real connection becomes possible.

An Invitation to Notice

If dating has started to feel depleting, I invite you to reflect:

• Who do you become when you’re trying to market yourself?

• What parts of you disappear in the name of desirability?

• How does rejection land in your body—does it feel like information, or indictment?

• What would it be like to be chosen not because you performed well, but because you felt familiar?

You are not behind.

You are not defective.

You are not failing the market.

You are human—seeking to be seen.

And no app, algorithm, or swipe can measure the value of that.