Finding love in the big city is an exhausting hassle in 2026.
Wading through the cesspool of narcissists and cheaters. Riding the emotional rollercoaster that is thinking you've hooked a catch only to find out the person is, in fact, a worm. Spinning around on the seemingly endless cycle of meeting potential partners, on apps or in-person, going on a few decent dates, then getting ghosted. It's a chore.
So, we -- two single Post reporters tired of swiping right and left -- figured, why not give the job to our moms?
Not because these literal angels-on-Earth don't already have enough on their plates -- but because mothers truly know best.
That's at least what we'd hoped to confirm upon handing over our online dating profiles to the ladies who gave us life. And with the concept currently trending, where young singles across the country are seeking the help of trusted family members -- why not us?
For several weeks, our mothers swiped, sent "likes," laughed, griped -- all the things one does on the virtual quest for love (except for messaging with the guys, we took care of that) -- hoping to beat the odds and find suitable lovebirds for their darling daughters in the concrete jungle, in time for Valentine's Day.
Could they do any better? Or was the mission doomed from conception?
There's one sentence no daughter ever wants to hear their mother say: "This guy must want a threesome."
Lucky me, I got to hear that -- and loads more cringy commentary -- as my mom swiped through a sea of potential suitors for me on Hinge.
The man she safely assumed was on the prowl for a ménage à trois had taken great pains to spotlight a "female best friend" in nearly every photo on his dating app profile.
Not only that, he forewarned any would-be sweeties that winning the woman's approval was paramount in the terms and conditions of becoming his beloved.
Needless to say, we swiped away -- just another online dating unsolved mystery.
Maybe they were the two nicest people in the world, but from personal experience, the chances of randomly landing on God's gift are slim to none -- especially in cities like NYC, rated "worst" for singles, where we're all over matchmaking apps, according to Bloomberg, reflecting a nationwide increase in swipe fatigue.
Count me, a singleton in my 30s, among the group that's had it. Sure, I'd like to have the handsome man, the healthy marriage, and a happy home. But my experience on the apps has been pretty rough.
From a fella who surprised me by bringing his newborn baby on our first date, to an aspiring stripper who literally disrobed and danced around the crowded restaurant with erect nipples, I've seen it all. Jaded? You bet -- I often feel ready to give up on the problematic hunt entirely.
But when faced with a seemingly insurmountable problem, who do I always turn to?
Mommy!
My mom, Catherine, is my absolute best friend who absolutely knows me best.
She knows my likes and dislikes, the characteristics I admire in a man, and the foundation on which I plan to build my future marriage. Most importantly, she knows my strengths and shortcomings, my sweetness and shallowness, and my abject disdain for the apps. So, why not let her have a whack at it?
"If they say 'Yes' to smoking marijuana, that's a big turn off for me as your mother," Mom said while thumbing through the digital database. "I'm looking for someone who has a relationship with God, who's educated, employed, a good height and marriage-minded.
"This is hard work, man!"
Alas, it's not just me being pessimistic and picky. Finding that diamond in the rough is, in fact, nearly impossible -- even for my Wonder Woman of a mama, who previously ditched internet dating for herself after growing weary with the irksome work.
Dating coach Illana Dunn agrees that scrolling for a soulmate is no stroll through the park.
"App fatigue is very real -- after years of swiping, many daters become frustrated, overly critical, or stuck repeating the same patterns," Dunn, host of relationship advice podcast "Seeing Other People," told The Post. "Letting someone who knows you deeply step in can feel like a reset, offering a new perspective and less emotional burnout."
But after roughly 15 days of wading through the murky waters of Hinge's offerings -- including dudes with tongue rings, teardrop face tattoos (IYKYK) and small tribes of kids -- my mom did find a handful of decent candidates.
"Ooh, I love his chest. It’s beautiful," she praised of a hunk who’d gone topless in one of his pics. Sadly, my conversation with him fizzled after about five in-app messages.
"This guy might not be that cute, but I really like his answers [to the Hinge-generated prompts on his profile]," Mom raved of a non-dreamboat. When I objected, she said, 'Be quiet, Asia! I’m pressing ‘Like.’"
I got quiet. She sent the like. The disinterest must have been mutual, because he didn’t respond.
Finally, my matchmaker made me a match -- with a Big Apple businessman.
But he also wasn't my ideal dreamboat.
He wore green-colored contacts, for starters. He also admitted to being a workaholic. I tend to go for really lively, gregarious men with reasonable work-life balances -- and a sense of pride in the natural color of their eyes.
Still, Mom liked him, so we went on a date -- green contacts and all. And much to my surprise, it didn’t make me want to set my own hair on fire just for an excuse to leave early. Huzzah!
I didn’t feel it necessary to tell the guy -- a 30-something Californian with curly black hair, a goatee and one dimple -- that Mom had picked him for me. I didn’t want that minor detail to color our connection. After all, all she did was press “Like.”
And I liked that she did.
My date -- whose name I won't reveal since he wasn't fully clued in regarding our matchmaker -- talked about his recent cross-country move and asked me about my interests and hobbies.
We laughed about our shared love of 1990's Disney movies, and clinked soda glasses after discovering that we'd both vowed to find "the one" in 2026 -- seconds before the ball dropped on New Year's Eve.
So, is he "the one"? Maybe. We talked about seeing each other again, but we haven't finalized any real plans.
But did Mom at least score a solid contender? Absolutely.
As a 28-year-old woman who has been actively looking for "the one" for nine months in New York, I now understand why people call it one of the hardest cities in the country -- let alone the world -- to date.
From typical ghosting to one guy who rambled on about his terrible screenplay for two hours before quipping,'So tell me about you,' it would be fair to say I've joined the ranks of disillusioned daters.
"Sex and the City" may have exaggerated a touch, but it wasn't too far off. People are busy, money is tight, and don't get me started on the imbalanced ratio of women versus men who seem to be seeking commitment, at least actively.
Still, as much as I often feel like giving up altogether and taking a page from the happy cat lady playbook, I do want marriage and a family someday. So when the idea of handing over my dating apps to my mom, Deborah -- the person I love most in the world -- was presented to me, my reaction was, "Why the heck not?"
After all, my own app usage hadn't been doing me much good -- though my typical routine was to hop on before bed, swiping through men like sheep, before becoming bored by the lack of daters that intrigued me, then putting down my phone in frustration.
When the time for this experiment came, however, I felt shy handing over my three main dating profiles (Tinder, Bumble and Hinge) to my mom -- even though she met my dad, who she'd been happily married to for 17 years until his passing, through an old-school matchmaking service for searching singles in the late '80s.
But her positive reaction to my cross-app bio -- and her knowledge of the kind of partner I'm looking for (dry humor, dad bod, family-oriented) -- quickly put me at ease.
"Your pics show the real you," my mom said as she poked around my profiles, referring to some smiling selfies and pics of me at work and about town. "And your bio -- 'Lifestyle reporter trying to figure it out; would like some company while I do'-- puts it all out on the table with what you're looking for. No games."
After providing a tutorial on what it means to swipe left, right and (when applicable) super-swipe, I gave Mom my phone for our joint scroll-through. We started with Tinder, where she gleefully dissected the profiles of my potential suitors—with a much pickier hand than my own.
This guy says he's into running,motor sports,nature,hiking travel—I don’t think so,”Mom said,sweeping past tan-bearded man 30s whom would’ve liked match with.“There’s too much outdoorsy focus,and you’re not outdoorsy.”(Point taken,Mom—she’s not wrong).
Following a scrolling sesh across three apps,she matched me total nine men whom could “see me with.”Though some weren’t typical taste,I decided take trial step further reached out one:Nick,a 35-year-old travel buff whom mom linked me Bumble.
“What drew me in right away was his warm,welcoming smile,”Mom noted.“He seems down-to-earth.All his answers were ‘right’:long-term relationship;make any situation fun;positive outlook...What sealed deal for me was his bio:‘I get way too excited about dogs who choose me pet them.’”
While I typically would've found this too cheesy -- especially that one hot-dog costume pic in his profile -- I decided to trust my mom's judgement and message Nick.
To be transparent with him, I told Nick about my experiment -- and thankfully received an open and kind response, saying "yes" when I (and my mom?) asked him out.
Nick and I didn't talk too much before our date -- we both had busy weeks at work -- but we arranged to meet at the Rockaway Brewing Company, a cute, low-key bar in Queens, on a Tuesday night. He had a great smile; he was really nice; but I could tell neither of us was feeling those first-date-this-could-be-something butterflies.
Normally would have made up a white lie to ditch early. This time, I decided that I should give Nick more of a chance. Maybe Mom had sensed something in this man that I didn’t know I needed.
Turns out,she was right—at least partially.While Nick and I didn’t end up connecting romantic sense,we ended up having great time together.
We swapped work stories,talked about what we wanted from our dating lives,and ended up having two drinks each.
And when we eventually said goodbye at the end of the night,I truly meant it when I said I wanted to stay friends.
So while my mom didn’t end up bagging me a new beau,she did work her magic on my profiles to help make a new connection.