PDX & the single life

Hinge, Tinder, and the existential crisis of trying to find love/fun (or just someone with a job, showers, and owns a bed frame) in Portland, Oregon.

---

Let’s just get one thing straight: dating in Portland is not for the weak or the impatient. It’s for the women who can carry a toddler on one hip, a tote bag full of groceries on the other, and still have the emotional energy to swipe left on five “musicians” who list their van as their current residence or want you to join in their marriage to complete some “throuple”. This one’s for us.

Tinder in Portland?

It’s a chaotic fever dream. Half the men are standing on top of a mountain they summited “with no ropes,” holding a salmon, or playing some obscure Scandinavian instrument you’ve never heard of. One guy told me his spirit animal was a tree. Not a type of tree—just tree. I don’t even know what that means, but I’m tired.

Tinder here is mostly good for three things:

1. Confirming that yes, everyone hikes.
2. Being asked if you’re “down for adventures” (spoiler: this is code for hookups where most likely they are in a long-term relationship they aren’t telling you about).
3. Remembering to laugh before you cry.

Hinge in Portland?

Hinge gives you a little more hope… until it doesn’t. It starts with artsy prompts and people talking about “intentional living.” Okay, Tyler, I’m glad you live in a yurt and compost your own poop, but where do you see yourself in five years? (And please don’t say “in the forest.”)

The bar for decent conversation is low. Like, “has a job, has teeth, doesn’t think Burning Man is a personality trait” low. But I will say, Hinge does give you a better shot at meeting someone who reads books, asks questions, and might actually meet you for coffee instead of sending the “u up?” text at 11:42 p.m.

---

Relentless Dating Tips

• Pick the place. Don’t let him suggest “just hanging out.” If he says that, don’t go.
• Coffee > dinner. You can always upgrade a coffee date. You can’t un-sit through an awkward 90-minute dinner.
• Check the shoes. If he shows up in Teva’s with socks, he’s either too Portland or just not emotionally available. Probably both.
• No babysitter, no problem. If they can’t wait until you’ve secured childcare for a proper date, they’re not the one.

---

Cute & Low-Key Date Spots in PDX:

• Deadstock Coffee – Chill vibes, great for scoping out if he can carry a convo without quoting Joe Rogan.
• The Bye and Bye – Vegan bar, bomb cocktails, and dim enough lighting to make you feel cute even on a Tuesday.
• Pip’s Original Doughnuts – If he’s not into mini doughnuts and chai flights, just go home now.
• Mississippi Studios – Catch live music from someone who isn’t him playing the ukulele.
• Laurelhurst Park – Walk and talk. No pressure, no tab, no awkward bill-splitting moment.

---

So what’s the takeaway?

Dating in PDX is like kombucha—funky, unpredictable, and slightly suspicious. But every once in a while, you find a flavor that doesn’t make you gag, and that person is probably a transplant who just got here within the last few years and doesn’t have a place “to get DMT.” So I swipe, sip my overpriced oat milk latte, and keep showing up. Because somewhere between the beard oil, the bike lanes, and the guys who “just got out of something serious,” there’s got to be someone who sees me—the mom, the career woman, the whole damn package—and doesn’t flinch.

Until then, I’ll be here, single, strong, and swiping (maybe).

xx JT