When I interned at Meetup, one phrase stuck with me long after I left:
“Use the internet to get people off the internet.”
Years later, another company would build its identity around a similar idea.
Hinge calls itself “the dating app designed to be deleted.”
Both slogans share the same philosophy.
Technology isn’t the destination.
It’s the bridge.
I’ve thought about those ideas a lot while building Datespots.
If I had to describe what Datespots is trying to become, it would be something like this:
Use the internet to help people spend less time on it, and more time together.
That’s the entire point.
Dating doesn’t seem broken because people can’t meet.
If anything, we’ve solved that problem.
There are dozens of apps that let you meet someone within minutes.
Infinite profiles.
Infinite conversations.
Infinite possibilities.
And yet, almost everyone I talk to says dating feels exhausting.
Not because there aren’t enough people.
Because there’s too much noise.
Conversations become interviews.
People optimize their profiles.
Algorithms optimize engagement.
Everyone starts thinking about the next match before they’ve really experienced the current one.
Somewhere along the way, dating became another feed to scroll.
Datespots starts where dating apps stop.
Once two people decide to meet, most apps are finished.
You’re suddenly asking Google the same questions everyone else is asking.
“Best date ideas.”
“Things to do nearby.”
“Coffee near me.”
“Romantic restaurants.”
The hardest part isn’t matching anymore.
It’s creating an experience worth remembering.
That’s the gap I wanted to fill.
Not another social network.
Not another dating app.
Just something that quietly helps two people have a better afternoon together.
The internet should disappear.
The best outcome for Datespots isn’t more screen time.
It’s less.
If someone opens the site for five minutes, finds somewhere interesting, closes their phone, and doesn’t think about Datespots again until the next date, then I’ve succeeded.
That’s a strange goal for an internet product.
But I think it’s the right one.
The product shouldn’t compete for your attention.
It should give your attention back.
This project feels different.
I’ve built apps before.
Open-source projects.
Developer tools.
Hackathon prototypes.
Some became surprisingly popular.
Some quietly disappeared.
Datespots feels different.
Maybe it’s because it sits at the intersection of technology and something deeply human.
Everyone wants connection.
Everyone wants experiences they’ll remember.
Technology can’t manufacture those moments.
The best it can do is make them a little easier to find.
Maybe this is my opus.
I don’t know if Datespots will become the biggest thing I’ve ever built.
That’s impossible to predict.
But it feels like the most meaningful.
Not because of the technology.
The technology is just infrastructure.
Maps.
Search.
Caching.
Databases.
Those are interesting engineering problems, but they’re not why I keep working on it.
I keep working on it because every great relationship, friendship, or even memorable first date begins with two people deciding to spend time together.
If Datespots helps create even a small fraction of those moments, then it’s already done something worthwhile.
Meetup wanted people to leave the internet.
Hinge wants people to delete the app.
I’d be happy if Datespots became something people opened for five minutes, found an idea they loved, put their phones away, and forgot about until the next adventure.
Because the best technology isn’t the thing people remember.
It’s the thing that helped create memories somewhere else.