dating means going on dates.

Many years ago, I moved to the Netherlands for a legal internship. It was my first time living away from home, and I didn’t know anyone besides my coworkers.

So, naturally, I downloaded the dating apps. I loved that they introduced me to people I never would have met otherwise. I just didn’t know how to tell who actually made sense for me.

While I was there, I learned a Dutch saying:

“Op ieder potje past een dekseltje.”

There’s a lid for every pot.

I don’t know why, but it stuck with me. I liked the idea that there isn’t one type of person everyone is supposed to want. Some lids might look more impressive than others, but the point isn’t to find the “best” lid. It’s to find the one that fits.

Over time, I started thinking about how different that felt from the way we date. We have more choice than ever, but somehow more choice doesn’t always make choosing easier.

Before law school, I studied sociology. I’ve always been curious about why we choose the people we do and why someone can look perfect on paper but feel completely wrong in real life.

I don’t think there’s a formula for love. But I do think shared values matter, wanting similar things out of life matters, and some things still have to be figured out face-to-face.

I came to this from a different place.

Among my friends in New York, “how’s the situationship?” comes up more often than “how’s the relationship?” It’s only about half a joke. I’m usually the one they send the screenshots to, and at some point I stopped being surprised by the next text.

What still gets me is who it happens to. My most put-together friends ask real questions, say what they want, and don’t waste anyone’s time. They still end up with someone who looked great on paper and talked about commitment right up until it was time to commit.

The rest say they’re “taking a break from the apps.”

A break. From trying to meet someone.

Nobody should need to recover from that.

When you’re ready to commit and the other person isn’t, you’re left asking, “am I not enough?” Being kept as an option slowly teaches you that you’re not worth choosing, and you carry that into everything else. It happens so quietly that almost nobody calls it what it is: disrespectful.

After all that, the most hopeful story I’ve heard lately actually surprised me. A friend was running another friend’s dating profile, and everyone who matched knew. So she skipped the small talk and asked the questions most people save for month three. The dates were genuinely good.

That’s what we look for: not where someone went to school or what they make, but whether they’re curious, honest with themselves, and ready to show up. None of that fits on a profile.

We won’t get every date right. But nobody here will be treated like an option.

Modern problems, medieval solutions.

That’s really where 5days started.

We ask the questions that usually come later: what matters to you, what you want your life to look like, what kind of relationship you want, and what you’re looking for in another person.

Then we find someone we think might fit and plan the date.

You just show up.

We can help with fit. Whether you actually click is something you have to find out in person.

That part is yours.