Love in the Age of Low Effort

There’s something heartbreaking about how modern love has evolved.
We live in an age of abundance — endless access, endless choice — and yet, we are lonelier than ever. We call it “dating,” but most days it feels like sifting through ghosts.

It’s not that people don’t care. It’s that they’re tired.
Tired of being disappointed, tired of giving without receiving, tired of believing that vulnerability will be met with tenderness. So they do the bare minimum. A like, a text, a half-plan that never happens.
Low effort has become the new normal — and we pretend it’s fine.

But love, real love, has never been low effort.
It has always been inconvenient, demanding, sacred.

It asks us to stay when things get uncomfortable.
To listen with both the mind and the body.
To give without calculating the return.

We’ve built a culture that confuses attention with intimacy — as if the flash of a notification could replace the warmth of presence. We crave depth, yet swim in shallow waters. We say we’re “busy,” but really, we’re terrified — terrified of being seen, of needing someone, of being left again.

And yet... beneath all this exhaustion, there’s still hope.
There are people quietly rebuilding love’s reputation — one moment of care at a time.
They remember what it means to try.
They ask how your day was and actually listen. They show up, even when it’s messy. They text you back not out of obligation but out of genuine interest.
These people — the steady ones, the ones who still believe — they are keeping love alive.

Maybe we’re not running out of good men or good women.
Maybe we’re just running out of effort.

And effort, when it’s aligned and intentional, is the deepest love language of all.
It says: “I’m not perfect, but I’m here.”
It says: “You matter enough for me to try again.”

If we want to heal what’s broken in modern love, we have to bring devotion back.
Not the performance of effort — but the sacred act of attention.

Because love isn’t found.
It’s built.
And building takes time, care, and energy — the very things our culture tries to rush past.

So perhaps the real question isn’t: “Where are all the good ones?”
It’s: “Who among us is still willing to show up?”

If you are, then maybe — just maybe — we can start to change what love looks like in this world.