Compatibility: it’s the foundation for every “match,” “like,” and “swipe.” These terms will likely be familiar to readers who are one of, according to the Pew Research Center, the three in every ten American adults who have tried dating apps. On some of the most widely used apps, particularly in the college scene—Hinge, Bumble, and Tinder—users are asked to specify things about themselves to generate the most compatible matches. 

These specifications range from height to pets to interests, such as sports teams. But as a former user of dating apps myself, it was never about finding someone who worked with me. It was about similarities and, well, matching. In turn, I was looking for a mirror image of myself without even realizing it. I remember often dismissing any profiles that conflicted with my interests if the algorithm dared to let them slip through. And yet, the dates with these almost frighteningly similar people left me drained after never-ending agreements which even became competitive at times: “You like Dutch Golden Age art too? Of course you do! Oh, you like it more than me… alright.” 

What was especially disheartening was when we dared to exhibit a difference. Disliking La La Land might as well have been an admission of murder after nothing but smiles and nods for the past 45 minutes. After what seemed like a year’s worth of failed first and second dates with my almost-clones, I gave up. And whenever friends would ask, “Were they just too different from you?” I would sigh and say/tell them, “No, it’s not that at all, actually.”

In fact, I was falling into a trap well known to psychologists and psychotherapists like Charisse Cooke, a relationship psychotherapist, who finds that “People often confuse compatibility with being the same” in the Refinery 29 article “This Is the One Thing We Get Wrong When Looking for a Partner” written by Becky Burgum. She finds younger generations desire sameness in their lives and craves the harmony we think will come from dating/choosing like-minded suitors. While there certainly are and should be some non-negotiables in relationships, I have watched friends swipe away potential companions for the mildest of offenses, like hating avocados.

Who can blame them, though, when the seemingly endless stream of contenders is sure to present someone who checks every box AND will indulge in splitting a side of guac? They’ll come eventually… right? It’s maddening. It can drive a person to abandon all “requirements,” ones that seem to only apply from behind a screen and only on dating apps. 

For example, in my first semester of college, I didn’t rule out potential friends based on handfuls of photos and a few quips about their hobbies. And if you ask me, the best relationships begin as regular old friendships where the goal is simply to better understand the other and not to score a second date. After all, meeting in person and becoming “just friends” is exactly how I fell for someone the algorithm likely never would have shown me. 

My boyfriend is, in many ways, my antithesis. Days before we formally met, I watched him sing karaoke to “Work Bitch” by Britney Spears. I sat in the audience in awe of his bravery, thinking I could never, as he belted out the words without an ounce of anxiety. The more we talked, the less we found in common: I enjoy lighthearted and honest films, and he likes dramatic thrillers. I listen to introspective, melancholy music by the likes of Phoebe Bridgers, Mitski, and Hozier, and any other artists you might find on your average “Sad Songs To Sleep To” playlist.   

Meanwhile, his playlist is the setlist for Justin Bieber’s “Eras Tour.” He was a successful student-athlete for seven years, and I’m a nervous theater kid. One difference the algorithm would have lost its mind over: he’s vegetarian, while I am not.

In many ways, we were all wrong for each other. And yet, many moments I thought would incite arguments or upset have instead resulted in new frontiers for us both. Our dates have always resulted in fascinating conversations regarding our uncommon passions rather than a strange sense of competition. And where it truly matters, we are in alignment. We have many of the same values, like respecting one another’s preferences and staying open-minded. I wonder sometimes if on a dating app, he would have searched for vegetarians only, and I would have cringed at his music taste. His killer and unique fashion might have intimidated me, and I could have seemed too calculated over messages. 

But instead, I’ve seen so many incredible films in the last year that I truly, never would have watched. While thrillers will never be my favorite, I can now sit back and watch David Fincher’s Zodiac with new eyes, eyes he’s helped me open. He attended a Hozier concert with me and has listened to his music since. And as for plant-based foods and I, let’s just say I’ll take Impossible Nuggets over chicken nuggets any day.