I went analog and my life got 10x happier.

It’s 2026 and everyone’s romanticizing the 90s (see: JFK Jr…say no more).

There’s something so refreshing about 90s nostalgia. I was born in 1995, but for some reason the decade still feels like home even though I remember absolutely none of it. (That’s not completely true. My earliest memory is dancing with my mom and dad in the basement of our old house to Dave Matthew’s Ants Marching).

I think maybe one of the reasons why this era is hitting for so many people is because it feels a little rough around the edges. I see the icons of the era being just a *little bit messy. Sarah Jessica Parker ran around New York with curly, sometimes dare I say even frizzy hair, and short, unpolished nails. Carolyn Bessett was stunningly gorgeous and yet looked like absolutely no one but herself. Julia Louis Dreyfus had an entire storyline that her character was an embarrassing dancer. Jennifer Aniston - well, actually, no, she was always perfect.

It makes the contrast with air brushed, botoxed, optimized 2026 so damn obvious.

Late last year, I decided to do something that I had never done before. Something that in 2025, honestly, felt really effing scary. I deleted my dating profiles.

Not the apps - the actual profiles. Meaning that I had absolutely no way of meeting people unless I actually went out in public.

If that wasn’t bad enough, it meant that I had to…talk to strangers. In this economy?

I originally did it because I felt like there was a whole world of people that I was probably missing out on in my daily life, purely because I was relying on dating apps as my sole source of new connections.

I’m not going to lie. I have always had a hard time talking to new people in social situations. I have always, always felt a touch of social anxiety. I’m an introvert at heart (although you’d never know it because I become the most outgoing when I feel most uncomfortable around new people). Being “on” feels like a sprint - it can be done, but no one talk to me when I get home.

I started joking with my mom that I was going analog. What I didn’t expect was that going analog would become a whole way of life. It stopped becoming just about dating and started becoming about how I operated in the world.

My phone became a seated activity. Think of it as a home phone, except instead of being attached to a cord in the kitchen, I could only use my phone when I had a specific purpose: mainly work.

Here’s what I mean: I was no longer locked into my phone as I walked down the street, when I walked into a coffee shop, or in between sets at the gym.

I started to notice new places that I had literally never seen before, even though I walked by them every single day. I started enjoying - I mean really enjoying - the music that I was listening to. I found myself remembering my barista’s name. I went out of my way to walk places, because it somehow made me feel like I was more a part of my city.

Guys, I even started to make eye contact - flirty eye contact - with strangers! And it was reciprocated! I mean who was I? What a thrill! I can only imagine that this is what a crush in 1993 felt like.

Living analog started to extend beyond how I was showing up in public. It changed how I showed up for myself in private. I was reading 10x more than I ever had when I was doomscrolling. I started carrying my book with me, so that if I had an extra 10 minutes during the day I could read on a park bench. I had (and still do to this day) daily dance parties in my kitchen after lunch. If you haven’t tried it - highly, highly recommend.

Oh, by the way, if you ever go analog for yourself, it is absolutely essential that you listen to Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer at least once a day. If you can do this while walking through your local city park - I guarantee you will feel like Andy Anderson falling in love with whatever Mathew McConaughey’s character’s name is, and you will be 10x happier for it.

Not a single thing in my life changed - same job, same friends, same apartment - except for the fact that I stopped being a slave to my phone.

Maybe our parents had it right. They met people at work, in a coffee shop, at a bar. They went to work and came home, no strings attached. They listened to their answering machine and chose a day where they would call everyone back. They had way, way less information, but I think they were happier for it.

Maybe I’m just romanticizing the 90s. Or maybe there’s actually something here.

I dare you to go analog for 1 week. You won’t regret it.