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Over four months, I collected responses from 500 single people across the US and UK—250 from each country, balanced across genders, all aged 21 to 45. What emerged from our modern dating survey 2026 results was something I wasn’t entirely expecting: a profound disconnect between what people say they want from dating and what they’re actually willing to do about it.
The data on dating app fatigue, the endless “talking stage,” and situationships that no one chose is bleak. But it’s also honest. And I think that honesty matters more than yet another think-piece about what’s “wrong” with modern dating.
What We Actually Asked—And How
I recruited participants through social media, my newsletter, and some targeted Facebook advertising to ensure geographic diversity. The survey ran online and took about 12 minutes to complete. I asked about app usage, relationship history, dealbreakers, attachment styles, and what “ready for a relationship” actually meant to them. I also included open-ended questions, which meant some responses were beautifully specific.
I’m not a clinical researcher—I’m a mental health writer with a psychology background—so I didn’t claim rigorous statistical power. But what 500 people tell you, in their own words, across two countries, is still worth listening to.
The Biggest Surprise: What People Say They Want vs. What They Settle For
Here’s where the data got uncomfortable—for me, and I suspect for many of you reading this.
87% of respondents said they wanted a committed relationship within the next year. When I asked them to list their non-negotiable dealbreakers, the average person listed 4 to 6 things: emotional availability, kindness, shared values, sexual compatibility, ambition, or desire for children.
But then I asked: “How many of your last three romantic or semi-romantic connections met most of these criteria?”
Only 34% said yes.
When I dug into the open-ended responses, the pattern became clear. People weren’t settling consciously—they were settling because the alternative felt worse. Here’s what Sarah, 31, from Manchester told me:
“I have this checklist, right? And I know exactly what I want. But after three years on apps, I’d rather be with someone who’s 70% of that than spend another Saturday night swiping. So I ignore the red flags. I know I do. And then six months later I’m frustrated because he’s exactly the person the flags said he’d be.”
This was echoed again and again. The dealbreakers weren’t changing. The desperation was.
Dating App Fatigue Is Real—And It’s Reshaping Who People Choose
62% of respondents reported feeling “burned out” or “exhausted” by dating apps. But here’s the thing: they kept using them anyway. Only 18% had taken a break longer than one month in the past year.
This created what I started thinking of as “decision fatigue consent”—saying yes to dates you don’t really want, staying in conversations you’re not invested in, and allowing situationships to drag on because the effort of swiping again felt worse than the effort of communicating boundaries.
Marcus, 28, from Portland, said it bluntly:
“You get numb to it. The apps are designed to keep you scrolling, and after a while you stop really evaluating people. You’re just like, ‘Sure, I’ll grab a drink.’ And then you’re on a date with someone and you’re thinking, ‘I don’t actually want to be here,’ but you’ve already committed. So you ghost instead of saying no upfront. It’s awful, but it’s easier than saying, ‘Actually, I’m not feeling this.'”
The mental health implications of this are significant. I spoke with a couple of therapists about the data—both independent practitioners, not part of my survey—and both mentioned seeing clients with a particular kind of dating-induced anxiety: the feeling of being unable to make a decision, of perpetual ambivalence, of guilt about ghosting people you never really wanted to date in the first place.
If you’re feeling this way, it might help to work through some communication frameworks. The Nonviolent Communication workbook is genuinely useful for practising how to say no clearly and with kindness—both to yourself and others.
The “Talking Stage” Has No End Date Anymore
One of the things I was most curious about was timing. When does “talking” become dating? When does dating become a relationship? The answers were all over the map.
The average “talking stage” duration reported was 6.3 weeks. But 41% of respondents admitted they’d been in a talking stage that lasted three months or longer. And here’s what really struck me: most of them didn’t know if they wanted it to continue.
Jenna, 27, from Chicago, captured this perfectly:
“We were texting for like four months. Seeing each other once a week. And I couldn’t tell if we were dating or not. I think he couldn’t either. I finally asked and it was awkward because it made everything suddenly real, you know? Before that it was just… existing in this space where neither of us had to commit to anything.”
This indefinite middle ground—what people are calling the “talking stage” or sometimes a “situationship”—seemed to be the new default. And 72% of people who’d experienced it said they felt anxious during that period.
The anxiety made sense to me. Our brains want clarity. We want to know where we stand. The modern dating landscape has made that clarity optional, and the psychological cost is being absorbed mostly in silence.
Situationships: Mostly Unwanted, Mostly Accepted
I asked directly: “Have you ever been in a situationship you didn’t want to be in?”
56% said yes.
Then I asked: “Did you tell the other person how you felt?”
Only 31% said they had a direct conversation about wanting something more defined. The rest either ghosted, slowly faded, or just… stayed in it, feeling increasingly resentful.
This is where the mental health aspect really comes in for me. From my own experience with anxiety, I recognise this pattern: avoidance feels safer in the moment, but it compounds the distress over time. We tell ourselves we’re protecting ourselves by not having the vulnerable conversation, but actually we’re just prolonging the discomfort.
David, 34, from London, said:
“I was with someone for about eight months where we never defined anything. I was terrified to ask because I thought she’d bolt. But I also wasn’t happy. So I was stuck—miserable and also avoiding the thing that might make me less miserable. When it finally ended, I realised I’d wasted my energy on anxiety instead of just having one conversation.”
If you’re in a situationship you didn’t choose and struggling with how to communicate about it, books like Hold Me Tight or Love More, Fight Less have practical frameworks for these conversations. Neither of them is about being in a situationship per se, but both teach you how to be vulnerable without losing yourself.
What “Ready for a Relationship” Actually Means
I asked people to define what “ready for a relationship” meant to them. The responses fell into three rough categories:
- Emotional readiness (42%): “I’ve done the therapy,” “I’m not still hung up on my ex,” “I know what I want,” “I’m not running from something.”
- Circumstantial readiness (38%): “I have time,” “I’m not moving,” “I’m not in a career crisis,” “My life is stable enough.”
- They weren’t sure (20%): “I think I’m ready but maybe I’m not,” “I say I’m ready but then I sabotage it,” “I don’t know what that actually means.”
What was interesting—and honestly a bit sad—was that the people in that third category tended to be in the longest talking stages and the most unsatisfying situationships. They were trying to figure out if they were ready by staying in a state of perpetual ambiguity.
Amelia, 29, from Seattle, said:
“I kept saying I wanted a relationship, but the moment someone wanted commitment from me, I’d run. I think I wanted the idea of a relationship—the fantasy—but not the actual work. And I didn’t really understand that about myself until I was in my third situationship and realised I was the common denominator.”
This kind of self-awareness is hard-won. It often requires some reflection—journalling, therapy, or just honest conversations with people you trust. If you’re in a pattern you want to understand better, talking to a counsellor is a genuine option, not a sign that something’s wrong with you.
What the Modern Dating Survey 2026 Results Actually Tell Us
The data suggests something uncomfortable but important: we say we want committed relationships, but the systems we’re using to find them—apps designed for engagement, not connection—are eroding our ability to actually pursue what we say we want.
We’re settling faster. We’re communicating less clearly. We’re staying in situations that make us anxious because leaving them requires a conversation we’re terrified to have. And we’re calling it “choice” when it’s actually exhaustion.
The data doesn’t tell us what to do about that. It’s not prescriptive. But I think what it does tell us is that the problem isn’t really about “what’s wrong with modern dating.” The problem is that we’re treating dating like a transaction when most of us actually want connection—and transactions and connection are almost never the same thing.
From my own experience with anxiety, I know that avoidance feels safer in the moment. But clarity—even uncomfortable clarity—is almost always better for your mental health in the long run. Whether that means having the conversation about what you actually want, taking a proper break from apps, or doing some real work on understanding your own patterns—it’s worth it.
You deserve more than the talking stage. You deserve clarity. And you deserve to want something and go after it without having to numb yourself to the process.
Lucy
Have you experienced any of these patterns in your own dating life? I’d genuinely love to know. You can reach out via the contact page, and if you found this helpful, please share it with someone who needs the honesty.
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