I concur wholeheartedly with Paloma Faith’s article on the horrors of online dating, although her experiences seem to be particularly grotesque (As a single mum, my free time is sacred – it fills me with rage to waste it on bad dates, 31 August). If it is any consolation, the landscape is identical as a man. I have been using dating apps for a long time. If you can survive the cliches (kitchen disco, anyone?) you must navigate the lexicon of terms that people use. I too have been puzzled by the “ethically non-monogamous” – I’m glad I’m not alone. It seems people have little time or inclination to cultivate a real relationship after meeting – preferring to keep swiping for that elusive person who ticks all the boxes instantly. Either that, or I am just one of the dull people that Paloma alludes to. It’s a terrible existence, but what else is there? Opportunities to meet people in real life are not easy to come by and must be particularly hard with young children, when free time is at a premium. I am the last person to offer any advice, given my own failures, but I guess you just have to keep faith and hope, against all odds, that the next right swipe will be the one that finally counts. Adrian King Tracebridge, Somerset I was struck by how Paloma Faith’s dating experiences mirrored my own. I was beginning to feel that my midlife exploration into the wild west of dating apps was unique to me. Encouraged initially by friends who thought I was too amazing to be single, the reality of changing that status quickly went from thrilling to bleak. I’m 41 with three children and a demanding career. I have been single for nearly three years and have been struggling with juggling childcare responsibilities, a career and a social life, never mind trying to find love. Dating these days is hard work. You can be chatting to someone online for weeks, only to be ghosted in an instant. The sea of faces seemingly never-ending. Full of fish. Or men holding them. That’s a thing. My friends now advise that I should come off the apps and meet someone naturally. I’ve dated narcissists and liars, and my book collection has grown, each with a handwritten note from love interests that didn’t even linger long enough for me to finish the books. I’ve feared for my life, learned what DVDS means (if you don’t know, it’s the Domestic Violence Disclosure Scheme) and questioned whether I’ll ever find love. But thanks to Paloma’s encouraging closing paragraph, I too won’t give up – I’ll continue to open my heart. Laura Garner Lincoln I want to say I laughed at this article smugly. I didn’t. As I lay in bed with Yanis the cat, I recognised the transactional doom loop that online dating held me in for a decade. It was truly like being in an episode of EastEnders. The process was always the same. Week one: continuous messaging. Week two: are you going to put out or not messages maybe twice a day. Week three: after an obvious “no” to week two, no picture on dating site any more. Sounds like I’m 15? Nope. From 45 to 55 I continued in this process. Along with going grey, dumping the “dating soap” counts as my most liberating moment. No more excitement (first week), resignation (second week) and rage (third week). Chris Carbery Waddingham, Lincolnshire Dear Paloma, I know how you feel. I was in your shoes once, after the breakup of a long-term relationship. What I tried is online dating, but a slower version, where people have to upload a profile. Then I looked for clues to connect: a film, a piece of music, a book. I still had to kiss many frogs. But one day I met someone old-fashioned, a true gentleman. For whom I felt no attraction at first, but who was patient enough to stay in my orbit. Who was intellectually exciting. Love came later, at an unexpected moment. He is my husband now. Ildiko Gyory Leicester