Dating is hard. It's difficult and not quantity, but quality.

When Chris Harrison said, “Dating is hard. It’s difficult and not quantity, but quality. Finding a good person,” he spoke a truth as old as the human heart itself. His words, though simple, reach into the depths of what it means to seek connection—to find in another soul not just company, but character. In this age of abundance and distraction, his wisdom reminds us that love has never been a matter of numbers, but of discernment. It is not how many we meet that matters, but whether we recognize goodness when we find it. Beneath the quiet tone of his reflection lies the ancient understanding that love, like all noble things, must be earned, refined, and chosen with care.

To say “dating is hard” is to admit that love, though it is life’s greatest joy, is also its greatest challenge. From the beginning of time, men and women have wandered through longing, misunderstanding, and hope, seeking the one whose spirit mirrors their own. The ancients wrote of this struggle in their myths and poems—the search for harmony between two souls. Plato, in his tale of the split beings, taught that each person is born incomplete, forever yearning for the one who makes them whole. But the search, he warned, is not simple. Many will cross our path; few will reach our heart. Harrison’s words echo this same truth: quality is rare, and thus the path to it is steep.

Consider the story of Odysseus and Penelope. When the hero journeyed far from home, countless suitors came to claim his place, yet Penelope waited faithfully, weaving by day and unraveling by night to delay their claim. She understood that love could not be replaced by quantity—by mere presence or flattery—but was rooted in depth, loyalty, and truth. Her patience and discernment became her strength. So too does Harrison’s reflection call us to resist the haste of modern love, where endless choices often lead to emptiness. For it is not the abundance of options, but the courage to wait for what is real, that brings fulfillment.

There is a quiet sorrow in his statement, too. To say “finding a good person” is hard is to acknowledge the fragility of goodness in a world that often prizes appearance over integrity. Yet, this struggle is not new. The philosopher Epictetus once said that the path to wisdom is narrow and only few walk it, for most prefer the comfort of the familiar to the rigor of the true. So it is with love: to find someone genuine requires that we, too, become genuine. The quality we seek must also live within us. The one who wishes for an honest partner must first learn to live honestly; the one who desires kindness must practice it. Thus, the search for love becomes a mirror, showing us who we are and who we must yet become.

In this way, Harrison’s words are not only about romance—they are a guide to self-awareness. To pursue love wisely, one must first be whole. Many chase affection to fill emptiness, but true connection is not found in need, it is found in abundance—when two complete souls meet and choose to walk together. The difficulty of dating, then, lies not merely in finding another, but in refining oneself enough to recognize and hold what is true when it appears. This is why so few find lasting love: not because good people are rare, but because prepared hearts are rarer still.

Yet from this challenge rises hope. For every difficulty in life is an invitation to grow, and the search for love is among the most noble of journeys. The ancients believed that all great things are forged through struggle—the sword in fire, the diamond under pressure, the heart through longing. To search sincerely, to endure disappointment without bitterness, to hold faith in goodness even when the world grows cold—these are the marks of the wise seeker. The one who continues, who refines their discernment rather than their cynicism, will one day find not just a partner, but a soul aligned with their own purpose.

So let Chris Harrison’s words serve as both caution and encouragement: do not seek many, seek meaning. Do not rush toward the fleeting, but wait for the steadfast. And above all, become yourself the kind of “good person” you hope to find. For love, in its truest form, is not found through pursuit, but through preparedness—through the quiet, consistent act of becoming worthy of what you seek. Then, when you meet another who has walked the same path of patience and growth, you will recognize one another not by chance, but by the unmistakable light of shared truth. And that, as the ancients would say, is love not born of ease, but of destiny.