Welcome to GPTrauma Café—where we romanticize red flags, cry over strangers with strong jawlines, and call it “just vibing.”
Let’s talk dating apps.

A cursed little game of Russian roulette for the romantically unhinged, where every swipe is either your soulmate… or a crypto bro named Zack who ghosted you mid-conversation about attachment styles.
☠️ The Infinite Scroll of “Please Validate Me”
You open the app “just to check.”
Next thing you know, it’s 3:12 AM, you’re swiping with the same desperation you text your ex with when Mercury’s in retrograde, and you’ve matched with five guys named Matt who all look like they share one group brain cell.
Let’s be real:
You’re not looking for love.
You’re looking for someone to tell you you’re hot, funny, and not impossible to date even though you have a notes app full of trauma and zero chill.
And the apps? Oh, they’re feeding the addiction. Every match = a serotonin microdose. Every unmatch = another entry in your “reasons I need therapy” folder.
🎣 Red Flag Rodeo: I Can Fix Him™ Edition
The profiles are a TRIP.
Men holding fish like emotional support animals.
Women who claim they “just want something chill” but will cut you off mid-sentence if you say the wrong astrology sign.
Everyone’s pretending.
You say you love hiking but haven’t walked further than your fridge since 2020. He says he’s an “entrepreneur,” but he sells Pokémon cards on Depop and lives in his mom’s basement.
And yet… we still believe.
Still think maybe this one will be different. Still ignoring every red flag like it’s part of a Pride parade.
👻 Ghosting: The Closure You Didn’t Ask For
They matched with you. They flirted. They asked for your favorite sad song. You thought you were building something…
And now?
You’re talking to yourself in the chat thread like a clown at their own pity party.
Ghosting isn’t just a thing—it’s a lifestyle. It’s digital disappearing with zero accountability and maximum ego damage.
But guess what?
If they ghosted you, they saved you from their own emotional mess.
Send them love. Then block them so they can’t come back when they “miss your energy” in two weeks.
🧠 The Algorithm Is My Toxic Ex
Dating apps have become self-aware.
Hinge sees you, babe. It’s watching.
“We noticed you keep matching with tattooed commitment-phobes who journal once a year and own too many rings.”
Me: crying while swiping right again “Yeah… and???”
It’s like Spotify Wrapped but for your romantic dysfunction.
They know your type is “hot and emotionally unavailable.”
They serve it to you daily like it’s a Love Language.
🎰 Download, Delete, Redownload, Repeat
Let’s be honest: you’ve deleted the app 12 times.
You always come back.
It starts with hope. Then the disappointment hits. Then a talking stage that lasts three days and ends with them vanishing like a magician with commitment issues. Then the delete. Then loneliness. Then… hello, old friend.
Dating apps aren’t apps.
They’re personality tests you keep failing.
💖 TL;DR — It’s Not You, It’s Capitalism
You’re not too much. You’re not too broken. You’re just trying to find connection in a glitchy hellscape of half-naked selfies and emotional detachment.
So here’s your permission slip:
Love yourself. Swipe with caution. Ghost them first. Screenshot the good messages. Block the bad ones. And remember:
You are not “too intense.” You’re just not interested in pretending to be chill when you’re actually looking for someone who texts you back and remembers your birthday.
You’re not looking for a match. You’re looking for peace, mutual respect, and maybe someone who doesn’t say “lol” instead of expressing real feelings.
Until then?
Date yourself. Romanticize your coffee order. And for the love of serotonin, stop thinking the guy with six abs and one brain cell is going to fix your abandonment wound.

LET’S GO VIRAL WITH OUR COLLECTIVE SHAME. 💅📱🔥

So delete the app. Redownload it. Delete it again. Journal about it. Cry in the bathtub. Text your bestie. Eat the damn cookie.
And if all else fails?

Marry yourself and get a cat. Or ten. 💍🐈‍⬛🫶