I've never been on a dating app, so I don't really know the

In a world of quick thumbs and quicker judgments, Chanel West Coast laughs softly and says, “I’ve never been on a dating app, so I don’t really know the difference between swiping left or right, LOL.” Do not miss the wisdom under the giggle. The sentence is a small reed flute playing against a brass band: it honors a way of meeting that is slower, less engineered, more human. To confess unfamiliarity with the ritual of the swipe is to remind us that love is older than interfaces, and that mystery thrives best when it isn’t flattened to a gesture.

Her words weigh light, yet they land deep. “I’ve never been on a dating app” is not a boast; it is a boundary. It suggests a life arranged by rooms and voices, by introductions and chance, rather than by infinite catalogs. “I don’t really know the difference between swiping left or right” names the poverty of symbols: how a single flick can stand in for a thousand quiet details—the cadence of a laugh, the patience in a pause, the way someone holds a door or a story. The added LOL keeps humility at the center; she is not condemning, only observing that not knowing the code can be a form of freedom.

The origin of such a quote is modern celebrity culture, yes, but also an older truth: each generation inherits new tools for choosing; each soul must choose whether to let the tool be master or servant. Where some feel empowered by the menu, others feel that menus make meals taste alike. Chanel’s shrug suggests that love’s richest textures—serendipity, community, embodied presence—can be crowded out by efficiency. It is the ancient caution against mistaking a map for the mountain.

A story from the recent past: a radio producer—call her Lila—grew weary of profiles and perfected messages that dissolved by morning. She stepped away and joined a neighborhood choir. There, harmonizing on rainy Tuesdays, she met a trumpet player who argued kindly about tempos and brewed difficult coffee. No algorithm paired them; shared practice did. Years later, when friends asked how they met, she smiled: “Not by swiping right—by breathing together.” Her tale does not prove that dating apps fail; it proves that parallel roads still lead to the same city, and that the slow road can make better travelers of us.

History keeps its own ledger. Consider how lovers once found each other by letters, salons, dances, and the introductions of kin. Jane Austen’s ballrooms were their “discovery platforms,” full of friction, context, and consequence. Even the old newspaper personal ad—clipped, mailed, answered—demanded intention and patience. None of these were perfect or universally fair; neither are our digital bazaars. Chanel’s line simply lowers the noise long enough to recall that every age must re-humanize its own technology.

From this, a lesson fit for the young and the hurried: tools are fine; presence is finer. If you choose the screen, use it to move swiftly into reality—coffee, walks, shared service—where the body can decide what the photo could not. If you refuse the screen, do not refuse community; put yourself where values congregate and where friends can vouch for character. Either way, treat attraction not as a transaction but as a craft, grown by attention, curiosity, and time.

Practical rites for a more human courtship: (1) Whether online or off, replace the reflex to swipe left/right with one real question—“What is this person caring for?” (2) Create screen-to-street bridges: commit to meeting within a week, in daylight, with a simple plan that invites conversation. (3) Curate serendipity: join choirs, clubs, classes, volunteer shifts where repetition builds warmth. (4) Practice deep noticing—tone, listening, kindness to servers—signals no profile captures. (5) Keep humor—the sacred LOL—as armor against cynicism and as oil for awkward gears. Do these, and you will remember what Chanel’s light remark protects: that beyond the gesture of a thumb is the ancient work of hearts, and that the best stories begin not with a swipe, but with a hello that stays.