When will dating stop being so hard for Gen Z?

Too soon, and you’d look desperate.

That first "uh, hey" would leave your lips, shaky and desperate, and she’d glance at you like you were a stray dog begging for scraps.

If I’d had the choice back then, you can bet your ass I’d have taken the easy way out. But here’s the ugly truth, my friend: all this convenience comes with a price. The grit, the effort, the goddamn humanity of it all has been gutted, leaving behind a sterile, hollow shell.

Fewer than 500 neurons are associated with the suppression of binge drinking, new research finds - Medical Xpress

And let’s say, by some unholy miracle, you got her number. Don’t start celebrating yet, cowboy—you were still deep in the trenches.

In the 90’s - you didn’t have a choice - cold approaching was just what you had to do.

Both groups—Millennials and Gen Z—are grumbling the same refrain:

Do you love fat pussy?

That’s the gauntlet we came from—the crucible of humiliation and raw, unfiltered chaos. The one we survived.

Virgins

First came the mental gymnastics of when to call.

Why does Christianity push reconciliation after a partner cheats? Mine had a 7-year affair with someone half my age. He cheated and lied. He is not the same to me.

What I am is a dude who’s actually concerned with this problem, and, I can help. For free.

Wait too long, and she’d forget you even existed.

Enter Gen Z, a new crop of frustrated souls, but the frustration is eerily familiar.

How do you know if your husband loves you truly and deeply?

Then it’d come—the rejection, sharp and merciless, cutting through the smoky haze of the room like a knife through your soul. But that wasn’t the worst part, oh no. The worst part was the *spectacle*. Her friends would swoop in like vultures, eyes gleaming, ready to eviscerate what little was left of you. You weren’t just rejected; you were a public execution.

As a 48-year-old Sugar Daddy, I’ve seen the battlefield from both trenches, and let me tell you—it’s a hell of a vantage point.

Forget the Hollywood fantasy of smirking Casanovas armed with killer one-liners and perfectly tousled hair under neon lights.

Do you remember one day, you put a deep smile on someone's face and made them very happy?

I used to date Millennials until they hit the “expiration date.” The youngest Millennials are 29 now—aging out of the sugar scene and into therapy. (The more bitter ones will be in this answer’s comment section)

It’s a strange, paternalistic partnership, and God help me, I actually enjoy it.

Now, sugar dating? That’s a different beast. It’s refreshingly laid back—a strange, unspoken contract of mutual honesty and boundary-free conversation.

Hello, I have a question about astral projection. I started to get interested in this a little while after my mum passed in april. I thought I may be able to see her and speak with her if I managed to achieve astral projection. Since this interest, every time i sleep on my back I go into sleep paralysis. However, I cant progress into astral projection because it is very scary for me as I feel like I'm suffocating when this happens. I panic and force myself to wake up. This only ever happened about once a year before this. It sometimes lasts a long time. This has happened about 3 times per week since my mum died, as mentioned on a previous post. I no longer try to go into it anymore(due to the suffocating feeling), but it still happens. I read that sleep paralysis is the pathway to astral projection. Why has this started to happen so frequently since simply taking an interest in it? Is this connected to the afterlife? I am concerned about it as I now cannot seem to stop this happening. Could it be my mum trying to communicate? Im asking due to more knowledge around this in this group.

All of this is GOOD NEWS! It should seem obvious, but from your perspective, its not.

They spill their secrets, their heartbreaks, their schemes, and their dreams.

But as I listened more and started connecting dots, I realized this wasn’t just a hot-girl problem.

Trump always acts like he was forced to be president, that he was chosen by God. Why do we put up with this? This maniac can't focus and get his mind off of being asskissed like an emperor.

Save it for your incel group.

Every word out of your mouth felt like a confession at gunpoint. You’d be sweating bullets, trying to sound like some paragon of virtue, knowing full well he was picturing you as the scumbag who’d ruin his daughter’s life.

he’d be the one to pick up.

Is Pampano safe to eat?

And there was no goddamn escape hatch. No apps to swipe your failures away, no digital armor to protect your ego. You were exposed, raw and bleeding, stranded in the harsh fluorescent light of reality. You’d sit there, a monument to your own humiliation, drowning in the bitter cocktail of shame and regret.

If you’re serious about learning how to approach women, then, I’m here to help. Again, I am not selling anything, I don’t want your money - I’m good.

I wasn’t suprised…The girls I date are stunners, the kind of women who turn sidewalks into catwalks. Of course guys don’t approach them. Guy’s DON’T approach dimes—they’re terrified.

As an atheist don't you really feel fear for committing sins which are not violating national laws?

If there are less guys approaching women - to the point where 50% of guys your age

But when you finally did muster the nerve to dial, you’d hit another goddamn wall:

These girls, they open up in ways you don’t see in “normal” dating.

When North Koreans visit other countries for the Olympics, what stops some of them fleeing away into that host country?

That means - you’ve got almost ZERO competition. You need to start trying. I’ve got dozens of videos with GenZ women complaining about you not trying. Extremely hot - Gen Z chicks.

her dad. If she lived at home—and most of them did back then

Either way, the clock was ticking, and every passing second chipped away at your already tenuous grip on sanity.

How could NASA possibly land on the moon when it's impossible to reach the moon through the Earth's dome? Why are they making up such an obvious lie?

And you would. Oh, you absolutely *would*.

**guys don’t approach me!**

So, I dug in, peeled back the layers of this sociocultural onion, and yeah, I’ve figured it out. I know why men aren’t stepping up. And more importantly, I know how to fix it.

Why would my husband cheat on me with an ugly fat woman?

It’s an epidemic.

For a solid decade, I was neck-deep in the pick-up artist scene. Yes, it works—and by "works," I mean becoming a swaggering, dopamine-addled caricature of a man. You learn the tricks, the lines, the rhythms of a social dance that’s as contrived as a daytime infomercial. But here’s the rub: it turns you into an unholy blend of desperation and bravado—a full-tilt douchebag with a veneer of charisma. Eventually, you start to hate your own reflection. That’s when I bailed.

are either

It sucked. It was a bloodsport—a gladiatorial brawl for your dignity where the odds were stacked against you, the crowd was jeering, and the lions were already licking their chops.

They ask for advice, and there’s no jealousy poisoning the well.

No, it was more like strapping on a blindfold, stepping into a minefield, and praying you didn’t explode into a million pathetic pieces.

And let me tell you, fathers in those days weren’t just protective; they were full-blown sentinels guarding the gates of hell.

If you’ve got a reason for NOT approaching women - don’t watch my videos…

I’ve ridden this wave long enough to see a generational shift.

Dropped out of the dating scene

I listen. I guide. Sometimes I protect.

In short - you’ve just got no game - but its not your fault.

And now? Now, you just swipe left or right. No awkward calls. No interrogation from dad. No sweaty palms gripping the receiver like a lifeline. It’s all neat, sanitized, and gutless.

First of all - I am not selling anything. I am not a “coach.” I don’t want your money. I’m good. I’ve got videos of me in my Lamborghini Huracan, and Ferrari California to prove it.

Buckle up, because this is a cocktail of hard-earned wisdom, poor decisions, and a willingness to wade waist-deep into the absurdities of modern dating.

They’d answer with a voice like gravel and demand to know your name, your intentions, your SAT score—hell, maybe even your blood type.

The only mercy was time—time to stew, time to replay every stumble, time to promise yourself you’d never be that stupid again. And then, inevitably, you’d do it all over.

Right now, your natural instinct is to give me a “reason” why you can’t.

Don’t put your loser negativity in the comment section.