I use Tinder the same way most people do—in waves. Some weeks I’ll swipe hard and flirt with my matches. Other weeks I can’t stand the app and flirt with deleting it entirely. It’s cyclical. And as most of us swipers move between loving and loathing Tinder, our love lives go nowhere.

Because circles.

Sure, that’s a generalization. In fact, I know a handful of people that are in committed relationships—even married—because of dating apps. But they’re the outliers. They’re the glimmer of hope in the dross of swipes, likes, and matches.

And now, after my latest Tinder experience, I don’t know if I can take it seriously ever again.

I’m about to explain exactly what happened and why I might be done with Tinder once and for all. But first, allow me to give you context. Because let’s be real, this isn’t the first time I’ve been disenchanted with dating apps. But this is the first time I think the sentiment is going to stick. For good.

Anywhoozle, the context.

The Two Years Ago Tinderella

A couple years ago I matched with the perfect girl on Tinder—my Tinderella. It was Thanksgiving day, 2014.

As if by habit, I pulled out my phone while visiting home for the holiday and started swiping away the lazy days of my vacation.

Why not, right?

I matched with a few girls, chatted, and even exchanged phone numbers with some. But the flirty messages mainly served as an entertaining way to pass the time before I went back home to Utah.

Well, that was the plan. Until I matched with Morgan, the Tinderella.

Her profile floored me. Matching gave me butterflies. And timing couldn’t have been better. We matched during the glorious post-Thanksgiving food-phoria that comes with eating all day. We proceeded to chat—non-stop—until well after 2:00 am.

The constant conversation was relentlessly engaging and I was engrossed. I had to meet this girl.

The Magical Meet-Up

We decided to see a movie the next day. (Fast, right?) Hands down, it’s the best Tinder date I’ve ever had. Shoot, it’s still one of the better dates I’ve ever been on. Period.

Not only was she gorgeous, she was intellectually interesting. Again, we talked for hours. Not only was she familiar with my religious beliefs and standards, she respected them. It’s usually rare to find someone interested in me that exhibits one of those qualities. Let alone all three.

The movie turned into star gazing from the hood of my mom’s Buick. Star gazing turned into all kinds of amazing conversation. And the conversation continued as we wound up back at her house, threw Friday Night Lights on Netflix, and talked some more.

Driving home afterward, I thought, “Welp, that was too good to be true. If we get together again, there’s no way it could be as amazing.”

But then it was. A second time. Third. And fourth.

As it often does, timing ruined everything. About a week after that first date, I flew out to Boston to interview for a job and came home with a job offer. Three weeks later, I moved across the country.

Even though we’ve kept in touch, 2,958.8 miles snuffed out the budding relationship I had with my Tinderella. I mean, no amount of first date magic can make up for a cross-country move a month later.

Convinced it wasn’t going to get any better than that, I decided to throw in the Tinder towel.

Retiring made sense. Go out on top, ya know? But it only lasted so long. My move back to Utah in the spring of 2016 pulled me out of retirement.

Utah: The Promised Land for Mormon Dating

Most people know that I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (aka, LDS or Mormon). We’re that quirky religious culture that rides around on bikes doing missionary work, doesn’t drink alcohol (or even coffee), and stays abstinent until marriage. Most people know about that stuff.

What most people don’t know, however, is how important families are to our beliefs. (And as a result, dating and marriage.)

We believe that the family is an eternal unit. That we’re with our families not just during our time here on earth, but for all eternity. (Which, by the way, is a long time.) Because of that, we consider marriage, relationships, and dating incredibly important. It’s also why we perform these eternal marriages within the sacred walls of our temples.

If you’ve seen the documentary Meet the Patels, it’s oddly parallel to LDS dating culture. (Minus the arranged marriages.) As a 26-year-old LDS guy that’s single, I get asked about my dating life all the time. And I, just like Neal Patel in the documentary, get all kinds of unsolicited advice on dating and relationships.

“You know what you need to do? Go on dates.”

Real groundbreaking stuff… Thanks.

Lucky for my love life, I moved back here to Utah. A hotbed for LDS dating. The proverbial promised land thanks to the large LDS population and several colleges.

It had been a long hiatus, but I was ready for some Tinder love and care. I was hopeful, too. If I found a Tinderella over a quick Thanksgiving vacation, surely I could find one while living in the dating mecca that is Provo, Utah.

That Hope Faded. Fast.

Even though I was moving back to my old college stomping grounds, most my old friends were married and/or moved away. Tinder offered a chance to meet new people.

And it worked like a charm. I matched with a bunch of people, chatted, made some new friends, and went on a handful of dates. But nothing went anywhere.

Sure, it was fun. But it was a ton quantity and no quality. All breadth, no depth.

Meaningful relationships are all about connection. Despite my best effort, it simply wasn’t happening with anyone I met on Tinder. Things always went better—way better—when I met someone organically.

My Tinderella hope began to wane.

A few more matches and short-lived conversations later, it was gone entirely. Here’s my issue: I would match and talk with new people in-app, but it wouldn’t develop into any sort of meaningful conversation. There was playful banter. Shameless flirtation. But we never actually got to know each other. Like, as people.

It felt like trying to swim in the baby pool. No depth. No meaningful connection.

And a recent trip to Chicago made that abundantly clear.

Why I Think I’m Done With Tinder for Good

A little bit ago, I went on a weekend trip with a Tinder match. By accident.

Wait. What? How does that even happen? Well, it happens when you don’t actually connect.

It all started with that amazing video of a pizza pot pie you can get in Chicago. Inspired by the viral video clip and my love of delicious flavor, I decided I wanted to go on a pizza tour of Chicago. Because yum.

See? So much yum.

As I was talking with some friends that live in my complex about my plan, Kelli mentioned she was going to Chicago for a work trip the same weekend I wanted to go. Small world. A friend to hang out with during my pizza tour? Sounds great.

It gets better.

She goes on to tell me about a spare bed at the place she was staying and that her boss told her to bring a friend. A free place to stay? Wow. That means more money for deep dish. Yes, please. (Priorities. I have them.)

Just like that, the plans were set and a wildly affordable weekend in Chicago was on the books.

I Asked Err’body for Recommendations

I always love getting suggestions from friends on food and fun when I visit awesome places. With the help of social media, I got a ton of amazing recommendations on what to do and where to eat while I was in Chicago.

Pulling out all the stops, I got a bunch of suggestions from a ton of different people. (Even a girl I met on a layover almost two years ago sent me a detailed list via email. Like I said, all of the stops.)

When I got to the city, I decided to swipe the dust off my touch-screen and jump on Tinder. You know, so I could ask matches for more suggestions. I swiped hard, chatted with a bunch of people, and got even more awesome Chicago recommendations.

I loved it.

In between messages with Chicagoans, I decided to scroll through past matches. I hadn’t really used Tinder since moving back to Utah and it was funny looking at the old Tinder trysts.

That’s when it happened. I saw an old match named Kelli.

“Wait. Kelli with an i? It can’t be.”

As I opened this Kelli’s Tinder profile, I could hear my friend—also named Kelli, with an i—fast asleep in the other bed. The profile opened and I realized Kelli, my new friend, was also Kelli, my old Tinder match.

Until that moment, I had no idea.

From Laughing to Learning

It took all I had to keep from laughing out loud. I mean, it was hysterical. But seeing as how she had work in the morning, I didn’t want to wake Kelli up. Especially with something as ridiculous as discovering we were several-month-old Tinder matches.

I hadn’t remembered. At. All.

That night, I had a couple major realizations. For one, I realized I had gone on a weekend trip to Chicago with a Tinder match—accidentally. That’s just funny. More importantly, I realized exactly why dating apps don’t work for me:

Connection is everything.

It’s why I love Brené Brown. It’s why I love late-night talks. And it’s why I love what I do for work. (I get to connect with amazing people from all over with my online coaching program. It’s the best.)

To me, nothing’s more valuable than true, deep, and meaningful connection.

We Over-Consume, Yet We’re Still Starved—for Connection

In the world of Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, and YouTube, we’re constantly creating and consuming new content. Every. Single. Day. Thousands upon thousands of words, photos, and videos are read or viewed daily. Even more are written, taken, and recorded.

Our culture both creates and consumes in unbelievable amounts. Right now, I’m literally consuming content (listening to music) while I create it (writing this). And feeling pretty meta about it, bt-dubs. But even with all that consumption, many of us remain starved.

We don’t need more content. We need more connection.

Even the simplest of things—like genuinely asking somebody about their day—can make a huge difference. Why? Because they’re so few and far between. Meaningful connection has taken a backseat to cheap thrills on LED screens.

I didn’t remember that Kelli was a Tinder match because we hadn’t truly connected. We had matched, spent days talking, but never actually got to know each other. And that’s why neither of us recognized the other.

Today, let’s connect with people.

Reach out to an old friend and ask how they’re doing, call a parent or sibling and ask about their day, give a complete stranger a genuine compliment—anything.

Connect with someone today, make their day (and yours), then tell me all about it on Snapchat, Twitter, email, smoke signal, or carrier pigeon.

Looking forward to hearing from you.