Are we dating the same guy?

It’s no secret social media is destroying society by bringing us all closer together so we never have to speak to one another again. I consider dating apps to be part of this problem as it has reduced emotional connection to human shopping. 

But I never understood to what extent until I met a woman in Utah named Kathleen. In April of 2024, Kathleen and I matched on Bumble, and as people who match on Bumble do, we texted a bit on the app and decided to meet in person.

Attraction is both physical and mental, and there needs to be some of both to get a relationship off the ground. Once you’ve spent some time together, and you get to know someone, the mental and emotional compatibility should overwhelm the physical as you start to truly value each other’s company.

With just some texting under our belts, it was much too early to be emotionally or mentally connected, and when I met her at the bakery we agreed upon, I knew in about three seconds that there was no physical connection. 

Right or wrong, I’m someone who will put in a good 20-30 minutes, even if I know it’s not going anywhere, just to see if there’s something there. Or, at least, as a courtesy, since we both made the effort to show up. (I know some who will abandon ship and walk out immediately, but that’s just not who I am.)

After a brief stint at the bakery, we walked across the parking lot to Scheels, a huge amusement park of a sporting goods store that is very conspicuously visible off highway 15 in Utah. It’s a huge building, and I’d been told many times to check it out. I figured this was my chance, and we went in.

She was British (and probably still is), and I spent my junior year in England, so that seemed fertile ground for at least ten minutes of conversation as we explored the vast expanse of Scheels. It was interesting enough, but then the conversation turned. 

Kathleen asked me if I’d ever heard of the Facebook group “Are we dating the same guy?” No, I hadn’t. So she explained to me what it is.

“Are we dating the same guy?” is a regional Facebook group. Most cities have their own localized version. The purpose of the site varies, depending on who you speak to. (I’ve asked several women and heard different responses.)

The first line of thinking is that it’s a place where women can go and post pictures from a guy’s dating profile, along with their name, to ask if anyone has met or gone on a date with the guy. It’s a way to seek information: Is he nice? Is he married? (Which is sadly all-too-common with men in Utah… old habits?) Was he abusive? Was he nice? It’s kind of a Yelp for dating apps. (And yes, there is a male version of this group, as well, where men do this with women’s profiles.)

The second rationale I’ve heard is for women who are sexually, physically, or verbally abused by someone on the app to proactively post the guy’s picture on the site as a warning to anyone considering seeing this guy. (It shouldn’t be too much of a stretch to see how this could be easily and maliciously weaponized.)

Like Fight Club, the first rule of “Are we dating the same guy?” is that you don’t talk about “Are we dating the same guy?” You don’t discuss it with other women. And you certainly don’t talk to men about it. 

But Kathleen mentioned it to me on this date, and I immediately got fairly irritated about it. I don’t think this sort of site should exist in any way, shape, matter, faction, or form. 

It’s a privacy nightmare. You’re posting pictures of men on social media without their permission or knowledge. They have no idea they’re even on these sites. And if you’re a person like me, and you’re careful about what you put on social media–namely nothing–it’s very frustrating to know that people who don’t know you at all are writing things about you that could affect the ways others do (or don’t) interact with you.

She went on to explain the reason she asked is because she looked me up, and I was on it.

Seeing I was even more irritated, she quickly tried to diffuse my anger by telling me me that it was just one person who had posted my picture, asking if anyone had any experience with me, and it was a good thing because only one person responded, and they said, “he was nice, but we just weren’t compatible and it didn’t work out.”

This was supposed to make me feel better. It didn’t. 

I don’t like not having control over my presence, internet or otherwise. (Yes, I realize I don’t, anyway… but this seems egregious.) The idea that people can post a picture of me without me knowing and discuss me like they know me immediately made me empathetic of what it must be like for kids in high school–especially the ones who get bullied. 

At this point, we had pretty much circled Scheels, our half hour was over, and we went our separate ways. But later that night, I received a text from her.

“Hi. I had a really great time with you. I thought we had a really good vibe and connection, but I just have one question: Are you married?” (I’m not sure if she meant to text me, because we had neither a good vibe or connection… but she went on.) “I’m just trying to clarify this.”

I said, “No. I have great clarity on this subject. I was there for the whole thing. I am divorced and no longer married.”

She said, “I’m confused because I saw this post on LinkedIn,” and she attached a screenshot of a post I had written two months earlier talking about how I had gotten my job at PC World magazine in 1993. In it, I mentioned some of the great people I met there, including a parenthetical saying, “that’s also where I met my wife.”

She said, “But you mentioned your wife, and this was two months ago.” So I clarified this for her by telling her, “Unlike many people on LinkedIn, I don’t air out the details of my personal life in front of everyone, so I’m not going to be discussing my divorce on Linkedin. And the truth is, I did meet my wife at work back in the 90s. And I didn’t think it would read very well to say “where I met my ex-wife.”

Kathleen went on to say, “I’m just confused because you wrote about your wife,” to which I responded, “It’s not very confusing at all. I’m not married. My full name is Jon Friesch, and if you do a background check, you’ll quickly find out I’m not married.” (Though, I found out later that divorce records are sealed from the public… relevant later.)

Later that night, she called me twice, but I didn’t see the calls until later, so I didn’t answer. But the next morning, I called her, but she didn’t answer. So I texted her to say “This is Jon, and I wanted to let you know I called you back.” I never heard from her again, but I had a sneaking suspicion where this was going next.

Fast forward a week later, and I went on a date with a someone else. We met and had some dinner at a place. It was funny because she asked me back to her place by stating, unequivocally, that she never asks men back to her place and this wasn’t that. She just wanted to continue talking.

So we went to her home, sat down after a quick tour, and continued the conversation. I asked her if she was familiar with the “Are we dating the same guy?” group, and she said, “Yes. I am. I’m on it and a member.” She went on to say she doesn’t use it herself, but uses it to check guys for some of her friends.

I said “Great. Could you please check something for me? Could we look me up?” She said sure, and she looked me up. Sure enough, the post Kathleen had described was still there, but with an additional comment… from Kathleen. Under the initial post asking if anyone knew anything about me, she posted, “He’s married,” with a screenshot of the LinkedIn post.

Had I not had that conversation with Kathleen the prior week, that post would just be there telling everyone I’m married, and I wouldn’t know a thing about it. I wouldn’t be able to address it. I wouldn’t be able to refute it. There are 44,000 women on the Utah Facebook group, and any members who looked would just see that and assume I’m another lying Utah guy trying to date around without “my wife” knowing.

I would just be out there in dating app land, getting no matches, and having no idea why.

Unfortunately, the date with this other woman took a turn and didn’t end that well either, because I was livid, and it was hard to be polite and contain it. (Though, fortunately, I’m from the Midwest, and polite is one of our things.) But I don’t do well in those situations until I can address the problem and resolve it.

[As a funny aside, with all of this fact checking going on, the woman had told me she was 57, but gave me her phone to check the Facebook group. On her phone was her profile, which I started looking at again. I noticed that her profile said she was 52, but she told me she was 57. She said her friends built the profile for her because they thought she should “get herself out there.” (A fairly common reason, I suspect for at least a small percentage of the profiles out there on the apps.)]

The date ended soon after that, and I went home to draft a fairly detailed and legal-like email to Kathleen. (Unfortunately, I’ve had some experience with defamation and documentation, so I had an idea what i was doing.) In it, I wrote a heavily detailed summary of our meeting, our post-meet text exchange, and how I found about her telling the group I was married. 

After the recap, I also let her know, in no uncertain terms, that I am, in fact, divorced. I offered to meet her in a place of her choosing to show her my records of my divorce. (I was not going to share any screenshots, as they are private records, but I was happy to prove this to her, since I couldn’t remove her post or address it myself.)

Then, to make sure she understood I was talking specifically about defamation, I wrote this: “To be clear, I am accusing you of posting something on that Facebook page about me that is not true, and I’m confident this can be proven. Please take down what you posted on Facebook about me falsely stating that I am married and verify to me that you did. If you do not, I will pursue all remedies, up to, and including, legal action to get this resolved. And since the legal remedy is simply me proving I’m divorced, which I can do in about five seconds, it should be a fairly straightforward defamation case.”

A half day later, she responded (and this is the best part) by saying “Comments were taken down, and I expect YOU NEVER to make contact with me again.” To which I responded, “Thank you, I appreciate that, but I think you may have lost track of which of us should be indignant right now.”

I’ve talked to many friends about this page since this incident, and many of my women friends said this page is necessary to be safe because you just don’t know what men are capable of doing. I’ve not spoken to any men about this, but I’m not sure I agree with this.

This is vigilantism. On this site, women are determining men are guilty without them ever being given a chance to share their side. Without them even knowing they’ve been judged guilty. Women and men can go on their respective sites  and say whatever they want with no checking mechanism, no feedback, no ramifications, no consequences, and men and women will have no idea anything was even said about them.

Look at my case. That could have been out there without me even knowing. I’m seriously seeking someone special, and that would have greatly harmed my reputation and my efforts–without me even knowing.

I understand the desire for a safe experience. But the fact is, life is not safe. We all take chances. If you are attempting to date someone you don’t know, whether you found them on an app or were set up by a friend, you just can’t know who the person is or what’s going to happen. 

99 times out of 100, it’ll probably go fine. You may meet someone special or you may decide to leave it at the first date. And sure, it could go wrong. Horribly wrong. And if it does, that would be tragic, and no one wants that. 

But the world is not a safe place. You take chances every morning you wake up. Anything can happen to you during the day. As soon as you get in a car, you’re taking another risk. You could run into the wrong person at a gas station. Someone at work may have it in for you. 

If you’re going to pursue people you don’t know, you’re taking a chance. Sure, you can mitigate the risks as best as possible, but nothing is a sure thing. It doesn’t help that we’re in a post-consequences society where the moral rot and decay is growing so fast we can see it. But in the end, nothing is guaranteed.

Life is not safe, and it never has been. I know some have tried suing these Facebook groups, but none have succeeded… yet. But here’s hoping.

Tinder is a hookup site. Let the kids have their fun.

As a dating app veteran, I’ve traveled from the mainstream waters of Match to the outer reaches of Ashley Madison. From the glamour of Hinge to the more pedestrian Plenty of Fish. In the spirit of being thorough, I’ve also tried Christian Mingle and MilitaryCupid. 

(A friend once predicted that as a marketing and user experience professional, I’d probably lose track of the purpose of the app as I went down the rabbit hole of app experience. This proved to be largely accurate as I ended up analyzing most of these sites.)

Through my travels, it seemed the user base of each of these apps had a healthy perspective on expectations for whichever app they were in. Except for Tinder users. 

As I started honing in on what I was seeking and what was working, Hinge and Bumble were the two apps I thought worked best for me. The purpose of the women was consistent with my own. I seemed to find the most compatibility there, and (and this is an important one) it looked like I generally stood a chance of meeting someone.

I’ve also spent plenty of time on Tinder, and I’d say while I’ve always been seeking “the one,” I figured Tinder may at least get me started (wink wink, nudge nudge…)

But two things struck me about Tinder. One, I got absolutely no traction, and two, I don’t think women understand the Tinder brand. 

Over two years off and on, I only once went on a Tinder-initiated date. (This compared to dozens for both Hinge and Bumble.) I’m not sure what it is. My pictures across all apps are generally the same. (And yes, “recent.”) My profile was largely the same, though I do tend to experiment with messaging that works, and I’m continually optimizing based on empirical data.

I’m not sure why I’m invisible on Tinder where I’m not on other sites. Though I do have one theory, and it relates to my second observation.

Tinder is a hookup site, but the pattern I saw with the women I found on Tinder was the same: They all insisted on “no hookups.” 

No hookups? Then what are you doing on Tinder. 

Tinder, by it’s very nature… the essence of its brand… is a hookup site. That’s how it made its name. When it first made the scene, people were using it to get some. Plain and simple. Sure, some of those one-nighters probably turned into long-term things. (I can think of one as I write this.) But who would join a hookup site and insist on no hookups? It’s like walking into an airport and saying “I’m excited to travel… but no airplanes.” 

If you’re on Tinder, you can expect finding people who want to hookup. But this is where my theory comes in on my lack of success. I think Tinder still caters more to a younger audience. As a middle-aged divorcee, my suspicion is that I just can’t keep up with the young bucks who are offering their services. And the older women who are there for those services are probably going younger.

And the women there insisting on no hookups? They’re probably just lost and having as much luck on Tinder as I. 

Tinder was, is, and most likely, always will be a hook up site. Let the kids have their fun. If you’re not seeking hookups, try eharmony.

Remote work and the death of dating

Single people are most likely looking for a mate. Loneliness is a thing, and it’s everything it’s cracked up to be. If people weren’t seeking companionship, there wouldn’t be dating apps, bars, meetup groups, co-ed sports, and public fitness gyms. 

But the single greatest, and formerly most common way to people is in the workplace. Why?

At work, you’re placed in this environment with dozens, if not hundreds, of other adults who were also randomly placed there. You and the others have four important things in common: 

1. You were hired without meeting or experiencing many of your coworkers 

2. You’re all unified (to some extent) by the mission of the company 

3. You’re all human with physical, mental, and chemical attractions

4. Everyone is physically present, together, in the same environment for eight hours a day

When you take a job, it’s an exciting adventure into the unknown. You can only imagine what you’ll get to do, and who you’ll get to do it with. Will the people be friendly? Will the boss be a jackass? What kinds of people work here? 

The only thing you can count on is that everyone there went through exactly what you’re going through. They had no idea what or who they would find. But you can guarantee a portion of them had their eye out for potential relationships. Let’s face it, there’s a reason we go out with co-workers now and again, and it’s not just the share experiences.

Speaking of shared experiences, as a company, you’re all in it together. Most workplaces have their own little territorial disputes, disagreements, and infighting. But in general, you’re all united by the mission of the company, and everyone is working toward the same goal. In fact, it’s deliberate acknowledgement of this fact that defuses many workplace disputes.

And while all of you are united by the company mission, a smaller fraction of you are united by your physical or mental attractions–specifically, those who are deliberately seeking a long-term partner. Everyone is human, so unfortunately, even those in committed relationships can stray, but by and large, those who are available often connect romantically.

This is the way it’s been since women joined the workforce en masse. Men and women were matched not only by the company mission, but by their economic, educational, and social strata. Factory workers met other factory workers. Accountants met other accountants. Physicists met other physicists. 

It’s not a hard and fast rule, but your direct co-workers are the first people you’d meet. Until COVID.

As soon as the government turned the workforce upside down with remote work, the ability to physically meet and work with someone largely disappeared. This was catastrophic for healthy, natural, and chance meetings. 

The reason the workplace is such a great place, and way, to meet people is because you get to observe each other. You can see how a potential match interacts with other people, whether they’re on the same team, in the department, just in the company, or even clients and customers. You can see how they naturally behave.

You get to experience their sense of humor. If you get to know them personally, you learn about their background, likes, dislikes, and thoughts on things not work-related. All without the pressure of whether or not it will result in a relationship. You get to see how caring they are with others. Perhaps nurturing, good-natured, easy-going, methodical, whimsical, high-energy, introverted. 

When you work with someone, your first inclination is to work with them. But once you get to know them, they may become more attractive. And if the chemistry is there, these things can happen fairly naturally.

But with remote work becoming the norm, we’re not meeting our co-workers like we used to. And whether you like it or not, Zoom is not a great way to learn about another. And it’s a non-starter when that person is eight states away. 

So we turn to dating apps. And the natural progression is gone. We don’t get to observe someone first. We don’t get to observe them in the context of work with the naturally-occurring attraction coming later. 

With dating apps, the pressure is on. We don’t get to ease into the relationship. If we connect on a dating app and meet, sure, it can go well. And successful marriages ensue. But for most dates, there’s a pressure that goes with that first meeting that a natural workplace meeting just doesn’t feature. And so it twists and spoils the entire dating experience. 

When comparing meeting naturally at work or meeting on a dating app, there’s no comparison. One is a natural, pressure-free way to connect, while the other is a high-stakes, pressure-packed venture into the unknown where your unrealistic expectations must be met in the first ten minutes or this thing is over.

Remote work caused so much destruction to our functional society, and human relations, relationships, partnerships, and marriages are chief among them.

Dating Battleship

There’s no more difficult time to be trying to find a partner than when you’re middle-aged and coming out of a divorce. 

Unlike younger singles, you’ve been there and done that. You’ve experienced a serious, most-likely long-term relationship, and you have an idea of what worked and what didn’t. But even more the case, you’ve most likely got a checklist of what you’re seeking… and what you won’t tolerate again.

This just makes it that much harder to find someone. Gone is the idea of growing together and finding those irritating habits charming. If you’re last partner cleaned obsessively, you’re going to be wary of anyone who does it again–even if they’re perfect in every other way.

Having observed that about most everyone I’ve met and tried to date, I developed a dating game: Dating Battleship.

While the game can be played by any two potential partners of any age, this game probably performs best with middle-aged couples. Here’s how it works:

Similar to the Battleship, the game, where the goal is to sink your opponent's battleships, the goal here is to sink the relationship before it gets started–saving everyone time, and probably money.

In the real game, you call out board coordinates in hopes they match the coordinates on which your opponent has set up their battleships. If you hit a coordinate next to the battleship, your opponent calls out “near miss.” But if you hit on the coordinate, your opponent will call out “direct hit.”

And so it is with Dating Battleship. With your date, you take turns telling them something about yourself that you think is a “non-negotiable” for them. If you’re close, but they’d still want to try out the relationship, they’ll tell you “near miss.” 

Perhaps it’s as simple as “I have 50/50 custody of two young kids, and I don’t have a good relationship with my ex.” For some, that might even been a direct hit. But in general, many in the middle-aged dating community are trying to avoid drama, and a bad relationship with an ex could be a source of that.

Anything could be a near miss. Even things like “I don’t drink,” or “I don’t like skiing,” to someone who skis all winter long. But anything could also be a direct hit.

Some people just don’t think they could make it work for someone who doesn’t share their political philosophy. So revealing where you stand politically could be a direct hit. Having a pet or not liking pets could also end a relationship before it starts.

That’s the fun–and the ridiculousness–of the game. It calls attention to things that would be worthy of discussion or ongoing, but known, issues to navigate. But it also should call attention to the idea that one seemingly arbitrary personality trait or life circumstance could end what might otherwise be a strong and life-long relationship.

If nothing else, it’s a conversation starter and helps people really get to know each other. It also makes both parties more comfortable and more willing to reveal some things about themselves they may otherwise be scared to share. If you really feel you like someone, that may just be the start of working through and overcoming potential obstacles. 

Who knows, you may go a whole lifetime with someone trying to sink their battleship.

The case for "ghosting"

You hear a lot about ghosting in dating app land. The only thing unanimous about it is it is bad, no one likes it, and you shouldn’t do it. 

I went along with this thinking for some time, but after talking to my mom about this, my thinking changed a bit.

It was the mid-1950’s when she was dating. There were no dating apps. No internet. And if you wanted to ask someone out, you literally asked them out. In person. To their face. Right there, you were putting it on the line. You were either going to get the rush of a “yes,” or the rejection of a “no.” Live and in person.

And if you were lucky to get a “yes,” you went out on the date and either connected or didn’t. And, of course, humans being human, you didn’t necessarily always share the same conclusion on whether it was a connection or not. And again, humans being human, you didn’t necessarily know you didn’t feel the same connection.

So the date ended, and if at least one of you enjoyed it, you asked again for another date. (Usually the man, back in the day.) And when you asked, you either got a “yes” or a “no.” And if you got “no” for an answer, it wasn’t expected that the person saying “no” would give you a detailed explanation of why it wasn’t a match and why you were never going to go on another date. “No” was good enough.

On the flip side, if you enjoyed the date and were hoping for another, that didn’t necessarily mean you were going to get asked again. (Usually the woman… again, back in the day.) So you went on a date and had a great time. You expected to be asked again, but the invitation never came. 

As my mom was telling me this, she emphasized this one last thing. If you didn’t get asked out again, you didn’t get asked out again. You weren’t owed an explanation, and you didn’t expect one. No one was calling the date to say, “it was fun going out with you the other night, but don’t expect another invitation, because it’s not going to happen… and here’s why.” You just didn’t get asked again.

This alone made me rethink ghosting and whether it’s that horrible. Or even if it should be expected. 

Unlike most of the dates my mom was talking about, people on dating apps didn’t see each other around on campus, at school, in the neighborhood, at work, or at the club. Usually, you just saw some pictures on the app. There is no connection. No context. 

To expect an explanation is unrealistic. Of any random two people, you’re near the top of the list of people who don’t owe each other anything. But there’s an even more compelling rationale for ghosting, and it’s human expectations.

Of all the things that people are generally bad at, confrontation and doing anything that may make another feel bad is chief among them. 

People don’t like confrontation. They’re not comfortable with it. It’s scary for some and causes anxiety when you’re not sure how it’s going to go. And the kind of confrontation people fear most is when you believe you’re going to deliver some information that is going to result in anger, pain, disappointment, or sadness. 

No one wants to make others feel bad. (Except for maybe sociopaths or psychopaths.) We’re not wired that way. And many, if not most, when faced with delivering potential bad news that could hurt another’s feelings, will simply not deliver the news at all. 

They’ll delay. Pause. Obfuscate. Disappear. Suddenly find themselves very busy and unavailable. Anything to get out of delivering the bad news. You figure if you wait long enough, maybe they’ll forget or it'll just go away.

Dating is tough business. It’s tough on everyone. It’s an amazing and constant source of frustration… until it isn’t. But too often, single people lack empathy or the perspective necessary to understand that the dating pool is all in this together, and perhaps grace is required.

If you get ghosted, don’t just rush to judgment and decide it was malicious, careless, or heartless. In fact, it could be quite the opposite. The person doing the ghosting could be absolutely wrestling with the fact that they know you’re not the one, there’s an expectation to be kind and not ghost, and they have no idea how to tell you, without hurting your feelings, that you’re too this, that, or the other, and there’s no connection.

In the fall of 2024, I matched with a woman, and we went on a few dates–dinner, a hike, etc. And we had a few calls and text exchanges. Until we didn’t. I sent her a text, and she never responded. Message received. She was uninterested, and I moved on. 

But she didn’t.

The first text I received on January 1, 2025… New Year’s Day, was from her. She wrote:

“Hi, Jon

Remember me!! I just quickly wanted to apologize for never replying back to you. I realized I was not interested in seeing you anymore and I forgot to get back to you because I got very busy.

But no one deserves to be ghosted.

Wishing best luck dating and a great happy year!!”

What a way to start off the new year. The first text I get is a “just in case you weren’t rejected enough, let me formalize the rejection to kick off the new year and make sure you know you were rejected by me” message.

Of course, that’s not what she meant. And I appreciated that she wanted to close the loop. But it wasn’t necessary. There was no harm done. I didn’t think any less of her for not responding. I just moved on with life, as I think we all do.

Just last week, I connected with a woman on Bumble, and we got on well enough to move to phone texting. We started making plans to get together, and she suggested we meet at a park to walk her dogs. I don’t have a dog, so she offered one of hers. Turns out she had three. Three small dogs.

I’ve long thought only a psychopath would want a small dog. Who listens to the constant, high-pitched “yap” of a small dog and thinks to themselves, “That sound! I love that sound! I want that sound in my home. All. Day. Long.” Only a psychopath, as far as I could tell. 

Once she sent me pictures of the three tiny dogs, I thought for awhile and decided it could never work with her because I don’t really want anything to do with one dog, much less three. And worse: three small ones.

So after some consideration, and not wanting to be “ghoster,” I decided to write her back and just be honest. 

“I’m feeling pretty positive about your profile and our chat, but I think the three small dogs is a nonstarter for me. One would be a stretch. I apologize, but that’s not something I’m seeking. But I’m confident someone amazing will appear.”

Not bad, as far as honesty and not ghosting go, right? (I mean, not amazing, but not horrible, either.) 

Her response? “I can understand why you’re single.”

And that’s what I got for not ghosting her. Sometimes you just can’t win.

When (not if) you get ghosted, why not have some grace and choose to understand that it’s very difficult for many. You may have iron guts and no problems telling someone that, ostensibly, they suck. But many don’t. Since you’re likely not going to hear from this person anymore anyway, why not pray for them, silently wish them luck (or whatever it is for you), and move on back to the search. 

Grace, in general, is in short supply, and the world of dating apps has no shortage of opportunities to show grace to one another. Try being a trendsetter, and give people the benefit of the doubt. We’re all broken, and we could all use it.