My dating track record has always felt supernaturally bad—like, “friends perk up at brunch when they hear I’m back on the apps because the stories are that jaw-dropping” bad. And it’s not for lack of screening. No matter how discerning I’ve been, my dating life has consistently played out like a romantic comedy... just very light on the romance.
There was the guy on a second FaceTime date who talked non-stop for 45 minutes, and when I finally excused myself, he protested, "But I didn’t tell you about my amulet—I tried blood magic, and it actually worked!"
Then there was the first date who explained over dinner that he couldn’t drink alcohol because, in high school, a vial containing a mysterious virus broke in his science class, and that was one of the lingering side effects. That same man also confessed to having an ice cream fetish before the night ended, we hadn’t even so much as hugged.
And how could I forget the guy who swiped right because my profile said, "I know what I’m doing 80% of the time," but then over drinks told me he was disappointed I hadn’t meant it literally—because he was in the middle of a life experiment where he scheduled his entire existence in 15-minute increments for three months. Yes, I immediately called bullshit and asked to see his calendar. He wasn’t lying, he even scheduled his pooping. He also didn’t like dogs.
And those are just the ones that immediately come to mind. It. Has. Been. Brutal.
But recently, it struck me: without a decade of the universe throwing these absurd experiences my way, I wouldn’t have been able to conceptualize Date Like Goblins. It was out of sheer desperation that I finally took a step back and thought, "There has to be a better way to meet people online—one that doesn’t involve these ridiculous IRL encounters." If my dating life is going to be a train wreck, I’d at least rather navigate it while playing games—without having to leave my house or look cute.
That’s why building Goblins has been such a labor of love. We’re tackling problems I feel in my bones: loneliness, the broken dating space, and the challenges of socializing as a neurospicy human with limited spoons.
As a founder, I think constantly about dating and human connection—how dating apps have evolved (ahem, been enshittified), how dating culture has shifted, the psychology behind how we bond, and how Goblins can address these challenges at their core. All that reflection led me to a theory I call The Potato Chip Problem—my take on the devolution of modern dating. More on that in my next post—stay tuned!
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