We don’t talk enough about how Instagram quietly rewired our desires…

Not just what we like, but who we like. Not just what we’re drawn to—but what we believe we’re supposed to be drawn to. And over time, that distinction became blurry. Suddenly, you’re chasing a feeling that doesn’t even belong to you. A desire curated by the algorithm.

Years ago, attraction was personal. Intimate. Messy and mysterious. You were into someone because of the way they moved through a room, the way they spoke to a stranger, the way their eyes locked with yours across the table. Attraction used to live in the wild—in grocery stores, at house parties, in bars, on sidewalks—and it was full of nuance. You liked the person who made you laugh. Or who helped their grandma out of the car. Or who said your name like it mattered. That’s what pulled you in.

Now? Now we swipe through faces edited into oblivion and convince ourselves this is what I want. But is it? Or is it just what you’ve seen so many times that your brain mistook it for truth?

Instagram didn’t just change the aesthetics of attraction. It changed the tempo. The standards. The metrics. You’re no longer pulled toward what feels familiar or warm… you’re pulled toward what’s been validated. Liked. Saved. Shared. And whether we admit it or not, the more a look, a vibe, or a body type shows up in your feed, the more your subconscious starts to associate it with desirability.

We’ve outsourced our attraction to the algorithm. We fall for jawlines and jaw drops instead of character. We romanticize soft lighting and soft launches over soft eyes that really see us. We look for symmetry, for perfection, for what looks good in a grid, instead of what feels good in our gut.

Even worse, we begin to turn that same gaze on ourselves. We curate ourselves to be desirable to the audience we’ve accumulated, consciously or not, losing track of the people we actually want to attract. We look in the mirror and scan our bodies the way a stranger would. We evaluate our own attractiveness through the filter of public consumption: Would someone swipe on this? Would someone save this post? Would someone like me, like this?

And in that moment, desire becomes performance. Intimacy becomes branding. We stop asking: What do I want? And start asking: What would get the most attention?

Scary, and I know. But, it’s not your fault. And this blog isn’t about shame—it’s about awareness. It’s about naming the forces that have shaped your attraction without you realizing it. It’s about coming to terms with the fact the person who makes you feel the most alive might not be the one with the most followers or the sharpest jawline. It might just be the person who laughs at the same dumb jokes. Who listens to you. Who sees the parts of you no one ever claps for. It might be someone you never would’ve noticed if you were still looking for the Instagram version of love.

This is your invitation to remember: attraction is allowed to be human again. It’s allowed to be surprising. Disorganized. Quiet at first. It’s allowed to come from eye contact—not likes. From shared values—not curated aesthetics. From actual connection—not digital performance.

So if you’re wondering why dating feels so empty right now—look at who you’ve been taught to want. Then look at what actually lights you up. And start there. Because love isn’t a highlight reel. It’s a full, messy, unfiltered story. And the good ones never fit in a square. Until next time x