You Like Him. Text Him Back. Jesus Christ.

Mariem Sfina

2 minutes ago

3 min read

There is a specific, quiet kind of exhaustion that comes with sitting in a dark room, staring at a phone screen that hasn't changed in twenty minutes.

Nothing dramatic happened. There was no emergency. It was just five words in a blue chat bubble, but somehow it felt like an unsolved riddle. I read it over and over, trying to break the code. Do they mean this? Do they mean that? How do I reply without looking like I care too much, or too distant?

Somewhere in the middle of all that overanalysing, I realised something genuinely terrifying: every drop of my natural spontaneity had vanished. I didn't know how to just reply anymore. Texting had stopped being a conversation and started feeling like a tactical operation.

And listen… I don't think I used to be like this. But when I look at the culture around us right now, I realise I'm far from the only one caught up in this mindset. It's not like my entire feed is dedicated to relationship coaches, far from it. But every now and then, a video pops up on my For You page analysing the exact number of hours you should wait before texting back, what a "soft launch" allegedly means, or how to spot hidden "red flags" in a simple greeting. Honestly, I don't even know what those terms mean.

Even in small doses, that content creeps into your subconscious. We are constantly being nudged to audit our connections, screen for motives, and treat every casual interaction like a subtle power struggle. Instead of just letting a conversation flow, social media trains us to view dating through a lens of paranoia, turning simple human connection into a public science project.

Somehow, we started treating relationships like a chess match. We build walls to protect ourselves, only to realise we can't get out of the walls we built. What started as a temporary shield slowly becomes a permanent fortress, leaving us isolated from the very connection we wanted in the first place.

Then I pick up Patti Smith's memoir, Just Kids, and turning those pages feels like looking into a different universe.

I'll admit I'm only partway through it, so I don't yet know how their story ends. But so far, reading about Patti and Robert Mapplethorpe living in 1960s New York makes me think about what we've lost in this digital age. No screens. No text forensics. No tactical rules. Their connection wasn't necessarily simple, but there was something about the way they shared tiny apartments, made art together and built a life around their creative ambitions that feels so far removed from modern dating. They showed up for each other without having to decode five-word texts or calculate who held the upper hand.

Hold that against the version of myself staring at a five-word text, and the contrast hits like a slap in the face. I've been trading real connection for constant self-defence, convincing myself that dating has to be this complicated just to survive.

So no. I don't want to live behind my own walls anymore, treating my heart like a business meeting where I can't afford to be honest.

It's time to bring back low-stakes dating and stop letting fear run our love lives. A text message is just a string of words, not a code to break. Being honest about how you feel isn't giving up your power, and caring about someone isn't a mistake. How did we ever convince ourselves that caring was a weakness?

Put down the text-message forensics. Stop treating relationships like hard labour. Let human connection be real and simple again.