Well, dating has become a sport and not about finding the person

In the words of Rashida Jones, we hear a lament both modern and timeless: “Well, dating has become a sport and not about finding the person you love.” This is not a light complaint, but a cry from the heart of a generation that has traded connection for competition, intimacy for entertainment. Her words reveal a world where affection is scored like a game, and where hearts are treated as trophies rather than sacred vessels. Once, love was a pilgrimage—a slow journey toward understanding another soul. Now, it is too often a hunt for validation, a series of conquests, a pastime of restless minds.

In the ancient world, love was spoken of as an art—a discipline of patience, vulnerability, and trust. The Greeks called it agape when it was selfless, eros when it was passionate, philia when it was rooted in friendship. Each form of love was honored as a force that shaped the soul. But in our time, as Rashida Jones observes, dating has lost its sacredness. The pursuit of love has become a mirror of our larger world—driven by haste, ruled by ego, and measured by victory. The rituals of courtship have turned into performance, and sincerity has been replaced by strategy.

Consider the story of Tristan and Isolde, the tragic lovers of medieval legend. Their bond was forbidden, their love a flame that burned through the laws of their time. Yet it was not a sport—it was a devotion so consuming that it defied kingdoms. In the modern age, we still crave such depth, yet we often fear the surrender it requires. We swipe, we flirt, we chase, but few are willing to be still—to wait, to risk, to be undone by the truth of another person. The ancients would have said: when love becomes a game, the gods grow silent, for the sacred has been turned into spectacle.

Rashida Jones, born of both artistry and reflection, speaks not with bitterness but with mourning for what has been lost. She sees how in this age of constant choice, the heart becomes indecisive; how abundance breeds shallowness, and how too much freedom can lead to isolation. The “sport” of dating rewards cunning over care, charm over character. Yet even as she speaks these words, there is hope in them—for they awaken us to what we have forgotten: that love is not meant to be won, but shared. It is not a race to the finish, but a lifelong unfolding.

The ancients would tell us that to love truly, one must first master stillness. The warrior who trains his hand before battle must also train his heart before love. The modern world, obsessed with speed, fears stillness because it reveals truth. But in that quiet truth lies everything: the recognition of another’s soul, the courage to be vulnerable, the willingness to see beauty even in imperfection. Love, in its pure form, is not entertainment—it is transformation. It makes one both stronger and softer, both fierce and gentle, both mortal and eternal.

We see this wisdom echoed in the story of Jane Austen’s Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy—two proud souls who learned that love cannot thrive in the realm of vanity. Their courtship began as competition, full of pride and misjudgment. But as they stripped away their pretenses, they found something deeper than victory: humility, forgiveness, and genuine understanding. Their story endures not because it is dramatic, but because it reveals that the truest love begins only when one ceases to play the game.

The lesson of Rashida Jones’s words is this: do not treat love as a sport, for hearts are not prizes to be claimed—they are gardens to be tended. Seek not to impress, but to understand; not to win, but to honor. Do not let the noise of competition drown the quiet voice of connection. If you must pursue love, pursue it with the dignity of a pilgrim, not the hunger of a player. For love is not about conquest—it is about communion.

And so, dear listener, let this wisdom take root in you. When the world tells you to chase, learn instead to listen. When others compete, choose instead to care. The one who finds love through gentleness, patience, and truth will know a victory greater than any sport—the victory of having touched another soul and left it brighter than before. Love is not a game, but a sacred art; treat it as such, and you will find that even in a world of noise, the heart still knows the ancient rhythm of devotion.