Last weekend, all my girls were gathered for brunch. Naturally, the conversation turned to dating. We went around the table, cataloguing our romantic situations, and it turns out we’re all single. But here’s the absurd part: we have never had more options. Between all of us, there are plenty of opportunities for us to find partners. And we’re not even hiding away. We’re out in the world at work, at gym classes, at dinner parties where someone’s colleague’s flatmate might be charming. We are, objectively, drowning in romantic possibilities. And yet, here we all are. Single. Not because we can’t find anyone, but because we can’t seem to choose anyone.

We live in an era of unprecedented romantic abundance. Dating apps have transformed the search for love into something resembling online shopping, complete with filters, categories, and the nagging sense that a better deal might be just one more swipe away. This should be a golden age for coupling up. Instead, it’s become a golden age for indecision, ghosting, and keeping one’s “options open” until those options expire from neglect. The problem, it turns out, isn’t scarcity. It’s abundance itself.

The jam that broke psychology

In 2000, psychologists Sheena Iyengar and Mark Lepper conducted what would become one of the most famous experiments in behavioural economics, though it began simply enough with jam. They set up a tasting booth at an upscale grocery store in California, alternating between displays of 24 varieties of gourmet jam and displays of just six varieties.

Only three per cent of those who encountered the variety of choices actually purchased jam, whilst a whopping 30 per cent of those shown the limited selection bought a jar. When confronted with too many options, people didn’t make better choices. They made no choice at all.

The jam study has since been replicated in various forms, but the pattern holds. Beyond a certain threshold, more choice doesn’t liberate us. It paralyses us. We become overwhelmed by the fear of making a suboptimal decision, haunted by the roads not taken, unable to commit to the jar, or the person right in front of us.

The paradox of choice meets the paradox of love

Barry Schwartz, author of The Paradox of Choice, argues that while some choice is essential for autonomy and well-being, too much choice produces three toxic effects: paralysis, anxiety, and dissatisfaction. All three are now endemic in modern dating.

Paralysis manifests in the inability to commit to meeting someone, let alone dating them seriously. The apps themselves are designed to perpetuate this mindset. Their business model depends on you not finding someone, on you returning again and again to the bottomless buffet of faces. Settling down is their failure, not their aim.

Anxiety creeps in through comparison. When our parents had three potential partners in their neighbourhood, they chose amongst them based on who they actually were. Now you’re choosing amongst carefully curated highlight reels, each profile a miniature marketing campaign. Everyone is funnier, more adventurous, better travelled than they probably are in person.

Dissatisfaction is perhaps the most cruel effect. Even when we do choose someone, we can’t fully commit because we’re haunted by the opportunity cost. What if we’ve settled? What if there’s someone better matched to us, someone who shares our exact love of obscure Scandinavian crime dramas and Sunday morning park runs? The apps whisper that this person exists, and they’re probably online right now.

The illusion of infinite compatibility

Part of the problem is that we’ve bought into a dangerous myth: that somewhere out there exists a perfect match, and given enough data and enough options, we’ll find them. None of this is to say that more choice is inherently bad. For many people, particularly those previously excluded from traditional dating pools, expanded options have been liberating and necessary. The issue is not abundance itself, but how little guidance we have in navigating it. We are given endless options, but very few tools for deciding what actually matters.

Perhaps the deeper problem is not that we cannot choose someone, but that we are unsure how to choose at all. We confuse compatibility with perfection, excitement with certainty, and availability with meaning. We search for a feeling that will silence doubt completely, and when it doesn’t arrive, we move on.

In a world of infinite options, how do we learn to value what we choose? How do we distinguish healthy discernment from paralysing perfectionism? And what might happen if, instead of asking whether someone is the best possible option, we asked whether they are enough, and whether we are willing to stay?

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Related: Can ChatGPT Pick A Better Partner For You Than You Can?

FAQs

Q1. Does the paradox of choice affect men and women differently in dating?

Research suggests it can amplify different pressures: men often feel pushed to keep searching, while women report increased self-doubt and decision fatigue in high-choice environments.

Q2. Are dating apps designed to keep people single?

While not intentional, many apps are built around engagement metrics, meaning continued swiping is often more profitable than helping users leave the platform.

Q3. Can limiting dating options actually improve relationship satisfaction?

Yes, studies show that people who consciously narrow their choices are more likely to feel confident in their decisions and satisfied long-term.

Q4. How does constant swiping affect attraction over time?

Repeated exposure to profiles can dull emotional responsiveness, making real-life chemistry harder to recognise and sustain.