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How to find a date in real life

13 September 2026 at 13:42
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If you want to hear someone complain, one of your best bets is to ask one of your single friends what the dating landscape is like right now.

You’ll hear tales of first dates that lead nowhere, conversations that feel like they were ripped from a social media feed, and more and more people resigning themselves to partnerless existence. Even what once seemed like an ever-flowing fount of new romantic possibilities has now dried up: It feels like the days of meeting The One via a dating app are behind us.

We are officially in a romantic slump. As dating coach Lily Womble explains: “Dating can be so exhausting, depleting, demoralizing, and I only think dating apps have increased that experience for single folks.” Despite how discouraging it can be, though, a lot of people still desire partnership.

Womble is the author of Thank You, More Please: A Feminist Guide to Breaking Dumb Dating Rules and Finding Love, and she spoke with Vox about how to overcome dating fatigue. “If you do want to find love in a romantic partnership, there is a more healthful and empowering way to go about it that centers you as the main character,” she explains.

So how do you center yourself? How do you take your dating life off of your phone and into the real world? We answer those questions and more on the latest episode of Explain It to Me, Vox’s weekly call-in podcast. 

Below is an excerpt of my conversation with Womble, edited for length and clarity. You can listen to the full episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. If you’d like to submit a question, send an email to askvox@vox.com or call 1-800-618-8545.

If you’re used to dating apps and you want to meet someone in person, how do you make that happen?

Dating in person is a lost art of social connection. I think that our reliance on dating apps has made us all sicker in some ways. These apps are built like slot machines. They’re designed to keep you sitting there with a gallon bag full of quarters and a Big Gulp, hoping to pull the triple cherry and get lucky. 

It’s really important to reset your brain [from] dating apps, to get in-person to build new connections. It is as simple and as complicated as three steps. 

What are the steps?

Number one: joy-building. Joy is connective. You need to exit your house, get off your couch, and go do something in your town or city that brings you some amount of joy with other people. 

It could be something free or something paid. The point is not to be in proximity to hotties at this event. The point is to make a new friendship, to make a new connection, to say, “Hey, how’s it going?” From there, you’re expanding your social circle. The function of a dating app is purely to expand your social circle and expand your opportunity window to meet somebody. Same with expanding your social circle with joy-building. 

You never know which 70-year-old you meet at your quilting night in your small town, whose son’s boyfriend’s cousin comes to a party and suddenly you’ve met the love of your life. I met my husband through joy-building. I went to an improv class, I made a friend that introduced me to her social circle, then I met Chris, my husband. Joy-building helps you meet the right people.

Second, you’ve got co-conspiratorship: helping your friends help you better. Now, your friend might say, “I don’t know any single people.” To that, you say, “I don’t either. So let’s co-create creative solutions. We’re both smart. You have a workplace, you have a work conference. Are you looking out for me there? Here’s the kind of person that I’m looking for. Here’s the questions I want you to ask somebody.” 

Two of my clients were each other’s co-conspirators. They lived in different states. That didn’t matter because one of them visited the other, and in the airport met an eligible man, asked the qualifying and disqualifying questions, found out he was single, that he was eligible, that he was a good fit, and set them up. They literally started dating. So you need to have co-conspirators, you need to have friends looking out for you. Just like your friend asked you to be in their wedding, you need to ask them to support you in this way too.

Finally, we’ve got flirting, which is the most vomitous, nerve-wracking part of this plan. The good news is that it’s a buildable skill set. It’s not just something that your favorite friend who is so naturally flirty has and you don’t. I think that flirting is essentially a joyful, courageous connection. 

People overcomplicate flirting to be this game. But I really believe, and have seen in my own experience, that flirting is just simply approaching somebody, asking a genuine question, and seeing if that person wants to co-create a conversation with you. To see if it’s romantic, you just ask, “Hey, random question. So are you single?” All of this requires 10 seconds of courage to go up to somebody and say, “Hey, you’re cute. I just wanted to come tell you that.” One of my clients did that on a crosswalk with a man that she found cute and they ended up dating. 

You make it sound so easy, but that joy-building, that getting out and talking to people, that can be really hard. One, it’s hard to be joyful when it feels like the world is falling apart around us. Also, some of us are more shy than others. And there are people who lost a lot of valuable flirt skill-building time during the pandemic. I hear you, but how do you do it? 

We have lost a lot of social skills. Those years that we were in lockdown were reps missed, especially for Gen Z, who literally were in school during that time. I’m a millennial, so I had already cut my teeth in New York circa 2015 with IRL flirting. It does require a rejection resilience plan.

I recommend that people have in the notes app on their phone a plan to be courageous and to know how they’re going to react and care for themselves after a hard moment. There are people, when you flirt or joy-build, who don’t want to be your friend, who don’t want to talk to you, who are uncomfortable themselves. That rejection resilience plan can really prepare you to be courageous and to know that no matter what, you’re going to be okay. 

It’s as simple as understanding that your brain’s going to think it’s dying after an experience of rejection. Just say, “I think I’m going to die after rejection. It’s a thought, not a fact.” Then have a plan to be compassionate towards yourself. Self-compassion isn’t just a fluffy phrase. It is a science-backed tool that decreases cortisol, and increases resilience. 

I also recommend a flirting ladder to increase your distress tolerance. 

How does that work?

Start at the very basic level: I’m going to make eye contact with somebody for one second and then look away. Great, boom, done. That’s the first level on the flirting ladder. 

Next level, I’m going to hold it for three seconds. It’s in small steps. Plan to do it in small, bite-sized steps so that you can increase your distress tolerance window. What flirting can be is a practice that you build up gradually towards. So wherever you are on the flirting ladder, if you’ve never made eye contact with somebody, you’re super shy, you’ve never gone up to a cute stranger and said hello, just literally write down five simple steps that you could do this week: eye contact, saying hello. One of my clients did a wink and run. 

When you plan to do something courageous and say, “I’m going to do it for 10 seconds and then I can bail,” you’re more likely to do courageous things. You’re more likely to have more connections in your life and you’re more likely to meet the right people for you.

“Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” made me want to date again

27 August 2026 at 18:00

There are two scenes in Jane Schoenbrun‘s “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” that I hope will be among the first things to flash through my mind at the hour of my death, somewhere right after “oh sh*t,” and just before all of my dead pets and family members appear before me to take me back home. 

In the first of these scenes, Kris Williams (Hannah Einbinder) runs through the woods at night, dressed only in a T-shirt and underwear, boobs bouncing and shoulder-length hair flowing side-to-side, in dreamy “final girl” form. Kris is a queer filmmaker taking on the task of reclaiming the slasher horror film-within-the-film, “Camp Miasma,” rebooting it for the queer community to no longer be appalled by. And she herself has, as of only recently, learned how to no longer be appalled by where her mind needs to travel in order to truly enjoy sex: villain-victim fantasies. 

Lord, I’ve seen what you’ve done for others; please send me a beautiful woman who looks similar to these two characters, and please guide her to match my freak in the way that Kris and Billy match each other’s.

In the second scene that I hope to mentally revisit before it’s a wrap on principal photography for me on this mortal plane — seen at the very end of Schoenbrun’s latest film — Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson) walks hand in hand with Kris through a dreamscape of pleasure and gore as the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard in my life plays: “Satan,” by Andy Shauf. Billy is the star of the original “Camp Miasma” that Kris is rebooting, and she’s just given Kris permission to be as weird as she needs to be in order to come. 

The theatrical burden of faking an orgasm because you don’t feel allowed to get into the headspace you need to be in in order to have a real one is gone. That looming first common, boring day after a few weeks of new bliss is gone. The habit of saying “I love you” with the same ease and banality as “can I have a napkin” is gone. Just two women being down for whatever it takes, for however long it lasts, encouraging each other to let go.

Lord, I’ve seen what you’ve done for others; please send me a beautiful woman who looks similar to these two characters, and please guide her to be compatible with me in the way that Kris and Billy are compatible with each other so that I, too, may have someone to hold hands with while slowly walking to the gas station in my underpants to buy snacks, covered head to toe in blood.

(MUBI) Hannah Einbinder in “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma”

Schoenbrun, who directed, wrote and produced 2021’s fantastic “We’re All Going to the World’s Fair” and then cemented their name as a visionary with the release of “I Saw the TV Glow” in 2024 — which they also wrote and directed — described the somewhat hard-to-describe “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” to The New York Times as such: “In its simplest form, this is kind of a movie about two women matching each other’s freak.” 

There’s a flame in my heart that wasn’t there before watching this movie, and that’s as great as a review can get. 

Schoenbrun’s third major full-length release has received mixed reviews from professional critics and reactions from casual cinema-goers along the lines of “what the hell is this?” And you know what? I wish them all well. Whether this movie is a meta take on the problematic slasher genre, a delivery system for Hannah Einbinder to showcase that she has the best butt ever, or yet another chance for Gillian Anderson to give queer women what they want: Gillian Anderson; all I know is that when the credits rolled on this film, I walked to the parking lot with a twitterpated grin on my face, drove home listening to “Satan” on repeat, and then, once inside, immediately reactivated my Hinge profile and updated it to read: Looking for someone to share dipping sauces with — a reference to a scene in which Billy treats Kris to a feast of KFC, which I’m sure no one in my surrounding area will get. But if someone does . . . wedding bells!

Having recently gone from being a married woman to someone afraid of love and marriage, now that I’ve felt how quickly that can turn to vapor, I didn’t think I’d ever feel what this film made me feel again. There’s a flame in my heart that wasn’t there before watching this movie, and that’s as great as a review can get. 

(MUBI) Gillian Anderson in “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma”


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In the song “Satan,” which I will never shut up about and am acting like I personally discovered now, even though it was released as a single by Andy Shauf in 2022 and is featured on the soundtrack for “Camp Miasma” (available for pre-order now via Waxwork Records), he sings:

Don’t watch yourself, watch the movie
This only happens for a little while
Because Satan is waiting
Satan is waiting with Halloween candy

And while reading those lyrics, this may not seem like a romantic song; but in the context of the scene in which it plays, it very much is. Hearing this song after watching this movie, I felt like I was in love, even though I currently have no one to love — and didn’t think I wanted to. But the feeling was better than love, because it was just mine. Something pure. Something I could tap into just myself, or choose to share, but wasn’t attached to the memory of any of the real-life ouchy stuff. 

This only happens for a little while.

Admittedly a recovering serial monogamist, maybe that “for a little while” part is a new lesson for me. Maybe that part would be OK?

(MUBI) Gillian Anderson and Hannah Einbinder in “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma”

As a divorced lesbian who lives alone with her dog in a southern state she doesn’t feel attached to, a mix of slim-pickins and general heartache has led me to feeling like maybe I’ll just never meet the right woman for me — and working from home doesn’t make the whole situation any easier, in terms of putting myself out there, if I’d even ever wanted to. 

Watching “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” changed my tune, immediately, because it made me feel something I hadn’t felt for a long, long time: passion. And more so, the exciting possibility of passion for passion’s sake, without rushing to mold it into anything more, unless it proves itself to actually be something more, which only time can tell. 

The true gift of a film like this — films in general, really — is that even though what you’re watching isn’t real, how it makes you feel is. 

I will likely not encounter my very own Kris Williams or Billy Presley on a dating app. There is no Camp Miasma to autofill as my location on Hinge. But passion is waiting . . . with Halloween candy. And like Billy says to Kris in the film, “If it gets too real, you can always turn it off.” But I like the feeling of leaving it on, for now, just to see what the next scene may bring.

The post “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” made me want to date again appeared first on Salon.com.

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