W hen dating apps rapidly increased in popularity in recent years, I was skeptical.
I admit I can’t be 100 percent objective about dating apps; I’m married and have been for a while, so adapting to an evolving dating scene isn’t a priority.
I’m also from a generation where most people met someone at the library, bar, grocery store, mall, work or through friends. The courtship was a process that moved at its own pace without too much influence or outside interference. (Unlike today. Everyone has an opinion on how, when and why to date.)
When the few online dating options arose, I thought those were ingenious ways for everyone, especially people who weren’t too social, to find their special someone.
A friend met his wife that way.
Of course, like everything that has the potential to make money, came duplicates offering something better, faster and more appealing.
Before long, online dating became the standard.
I know several individuals who rely solely on dating apps to find someone, and I don’t judge them.
I support them because I empathize with their urge to find someone with whom to share their life.
I fear the treacherous people who lurk in those same online spaces.
When I initially expressed my concerns about dating apps to them, I received affectionate eye-rolls and sweet dismissals.
They teased me for watching too many crime documentaries.
They don’t ridicule me as much anymore, though. We’ve all watched or read too many true-crime documentaries and news articles about tragic events in which online dating was the catalyst.
For instance, consider the recent news about 26-year-old Charvas Thompson, who killed Sugar Land resident Wendy Duan in her backyard.