Call Me Old Generation — But I Don’t Date to Pass Time

Call me old generation, but when I date, I date to marry.

I don’t fumble, I don’t entertain, I don’t breadcrumb, I don’t ghost.

I don’t know how to casually toss someone into my life for convenience and throw them out when I get bored. That’s not love, that’s cowardice with a modern filter.

And yeah, I’ve heard it all.

“Oh you’re too intense.”

“You should chill.”

“You scare people away by being too serious.”

Then don’t show up at my doorstep with fake intentions, pretending you want something real when you’re still chasing validation on apps at 2 a.m.

I’m not the kind who texts “good morning” to three people and calls it love.

I don’t do this swipe-right, scroll-left, temporary affection shit.

If I let you in, it’s because I mean it.

And if I fall, I fall deep. I’m not trying to “see where it goes.” I already know where it should go — commitment, respect, and showing up every day even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.

You think that’s outdated? Fine. Let me be a relic.

At least I know how to love without keeping a backup plan.

This generation dates like it’s a market — trial rooms, no receipts, no refunds.

They match, chat, vibe, leave. On to the next.

God forbid someone talks about future plans or marriage, suddenly you’re “moving too fast” or “killing the vibe.”

Excuse me for having clarity.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not bitter because I didn’t get my way.

I’m bitter because people now confuse access with intimacy, and attention with intention.

I’m tired of being told I should lower my expectations just to fit into this lukewarm dating pool full of people who don’t even know what the hell they want.

You know what I want?

I want to build something with someone.

I want to sit across from a woman who isn’t afraid of the word forever.

Someone who doesn’t flinch at the idea of consistency, of effort, of facing life together.

Not someone who disappears the moment things feel too real.

And if that makes me old generation, if that makes me “too much,” then good.

Let me be too much for a generation that keeps settling for barely enough.

I’m not here for games.

I’m not here to be another name in your “almost” stories.

Either date me with the intention to build something real — or just leave me the hell alone.