How are you finding connection with new people in 2026?
What’s dating been like for you lately?
Are you flirting with anyone?
Are you satisfied with your sex life?
Are your conversations on apps actually going anywhere, or are you stuck in an endless loop of “hey,” “sup,” and someone immediately asking for photos like they’re collecting Pokémon cards?
You’re not alone.
Dating and hookup apps are starting to feel less like social platforms and more like tiny casinos living inside our phones. Premium subscriptions are getting wildly expensive. Free versions are packed with ads. Apps like Grindr and Scruff keep rolling out features nobody seems to have asked for, including AI boyfriends and AI wingmen. Because apparently what modern loneliness needed was another chatbot.
As an elderly gay millennial who has been using online platforms to meet other gay men since 2001, I’ve watched digital connection evolve from exciting and liberating into something that increasingly feels exhausting. Somewhere along the line, many of us became more comfortable swiping, ghosting, blocking, muting, filtering, or ignoring each other than actually relating to one another in real life.
And I don’t think it’s just gay men feeling this way.
App fatigue is everywhere right now. People are burnt out. Conversations feel performative. Everyone’s terrified of rejection while simultaneously acting emotionally unavailable. We’re all standing in the world’s loudest digital food court trying to pretend we don’t want intimacy.
So lately, many queer people have been looking backward for clues on how to move forward. Which brings us to one of the internet’s favorite rediscoveries lately:
Cruising.
Wait… What Is Cruising?
There are a thousand definitions online, most of them centered around casual sex, and yes, historically that’s a big part of it. But I recently saw someone online define cruising as:
“Intentionally connecting with a stranger.”
Honestly? That feels closer to the heart of it.
For generations, gay men developed subtle ways of finding each other in public long before dating apps existed and long before it was always safe to be openly queer. Eye contact. A smile. A second glance. Lingering near someone. Energy. Timing. Vibes. Tiny human semaphore signals transmitted across a smoky bar, bookstore aisle, park path, or dance floor.
Cruising has always existed in a complicated space between flirtation, confidence, risk, humor, sexuality, and social codes. But underneath all of that was something deeply human:
The willingness to notice someone.
And maybe more importantly, the willingness to let yourself be noticed back.
That’s the lesson I think a lot of us are hungry for right now.
Not necessarily anonymous sex in the bushes. Though listen, no judgment from me during Pride Month.
I’m talking about rebuilding our ability to engage with strangers in ways that feel playful, curious, intentional, and alive.
So… What Can We Learn From Cruising?
Here are a few things I’ve been practicing this year while trying to crawl out of my own app-induced social paralysis.
Become a Regular Somewhere
One of the hottest things a person can be is familiar.
Find spaces you genuinely enjoy being in and go there consistently. A coffee shop. A bookstore. A workout class. Trivia night. A wine bar. A little farmers market where someone is selling lavender syrup and emotional support mushrooms.
I started going to the same coffee shop every Thursday afternoon to read, journal, or work. At first nobody talked to me. Then baristas started recognizing me. Then I started recognizing other regulars. Then conversations started happening naturally.
Apps convince us that connection is instant. Real life prefers slow simmering.
Relearn Eye Contact
Gay men have historically used eye contact almost like a hidden language.
There’s a reason so many queer people joke about “the look.” Sustained eye contact has long been a way of signaling interest, recognition, attraction, curiosity, or simply: I see you, friend.
Not every lingering glance needs to lead to sex, marriage, or a U-Haul. Sometimes it’s just a tiny acknowledgment that another person exists.
And frankly? In a world where everyone is staring at their phones in public, eye contact now feels almost radical.
Smile Like You Mean It
A flirty smile doesn’t always mean sexual attraction.
Sometimes it just means warmth.
Sometimes it means confidence.
Sometimes it means friendliness.
Sometimes it means, “Your vibe seems fun.”
Sometimes it means, “I also saw the absurdly tiny dog wearing rain boots.”
Modern life has made many of us deeply cautious about interacting with strangers. But small moments of warmth matter. They make the world feel less emotionally refrigerated.
Approach People With Intention
One of my favorite lessons about connection actually came from ecstatic dance.
If you wanted to dance with someone, you didn’t just barrel toward them like an excited puppy. You approached slowly. You made eye contact. You smiled. You gave them time to respond. You let the interaction breathe.
That pacing matters.
Whether you’re flirting, introducing yourself, or complimenting someone, intentionality creates safety. It gives people space to opt in instead of feeling cornered.
Which, honestly, is something apps stripped out of human interaction years ago.
Curiosity Is an Act of Care
I cannot tell you how many dates I’ve been on where someone talked about themselves for two straight hours and never asked me a single question.
Not one.
Then three days later they’re sending unsolicited dick pics and wondering why the vibe disappeared.
People want to feel seen.
Being genuinely curious about someone is one of the most attractive qualities a person can have. Ask questions. Follow up. Listen. Remember things. Care about people beyond whether or not you want to sleep with them.
Connection without curiosity is just performance art.
A Tiny Summer Challenge
This summer, try flirting with the world a little.
Not just romantically. Socially. Spiritually. Energetically.
Put your phone away at the bar for an hour.
- Compliment someone’s outfit.
- Become a regular somewhere.
- Ask one more follow-up question than you normally would.
- Make eye contact.
- Smile first.
- Let yourself feel slightly awkward.
That awkwardness might actually be aliveness trying to re-enter your body.
Pride Month often centers celebration, visibility, and sexuality, which are all beautiful and important. But queer history also has lessons about community, courage, playfulness, chosen family, and learning how to find one another in difficult times.
Maybe in 2026, connection looks a little less optimized.
Maybe it looks slower.
Sillier.
More intentional.
More human.
And maybe the real “premium feature” was talking to each other the whole time.
Author: James Hardin, The Elderly Gay Millennial