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We often talk about love in terms of “vibes,” “chemistry,” or “fate.” We want to believe it’s magic. But if you strip away the romance novels and the Hallmark movies, dating is a marketplace. It operates on the ruthless laws of Supply and Demand. And right now, a lot of us—myself included in the past—are victims of our own bad business strategy. We are entering the “Simp Economy.” This isn’t about playing games or manipulation; it is about understanding that desperation is the ultimate value-killer. If you want to stop losing, you have to understand the market. Biologically and psychologically, to “Simp” (or to “over-function,” as we might call it in counseling circles) is simply to invest a high amount of resources—time, money, emotional energy—into someone who is giving you a low return on that investment. In economic theory, we call this Inflation.
Think about it: What happens when a government prints too much money? The value of the dollar crashes. Suddenly, you need a wheelbarrow of cash just to buy a loaf of bread. The same thing happens in dating. When you offer constant availability, endless compliments, and unwavering validation to someone who hasn’t earned it, you are essentially printing too much “You” currency. You are inflating the supply. And when supply exceeds demand, the value drops to zero. I once worked with a guy named Dave who sent a woman a “Good morning beautiful!” text every single day for three weeks after one coffee date. He thought he was being consistent; she ghosted him. I had to tell him, “Dave, you didn’t give her romance. You gave her junk mail.” Because he gave that validation freely without reciprocation, it was a flyer left on a windshield. Ladies, I see you doing this too, usually paying with emotional labor—playing the “Unpaid Therapist” for men who won’t commit to dinner, hoping that if you make yourself useful enough, he won’t leave. That isn’t a relationship; that is an internship, and you aren’t getting hired.
If there is one rule in economics that holds true in every market, from real estate to rare sneakers to romance, it is this: Scarcity creates value. Why is a diamond worth more than a pebble? They are both just rocks. But you have to dig for a diamond. You have to work for it. A pebble is just… there. In my early dating years, I was a pebble. If a girl texted me at 4:30 PM on a Tuesday, I’d drop everything. I wanted to show her “Look how much I prioritize you!” But she didn’t feel prioritized; she felt suffocated. This brings us to the modern dating term, the “Ick.” It sounds silly, but it’s biological. When someone is always available and has zero boundaries, your evolutionary brain rings an alarm bell asking, “Is their market value lower than I thought?” We have to stop signaling that our time has zero Opportunity Cost. If you are always free, you are signaling that your time is cheap. People want to feel like they “won” your time, like they snagged a slot in a busy schedule.
Here is a question I often ask my friends who are successful lawyers or doctors—people who are logical in the boardroom but chaos in the bedroom: “Why are you still with them?” The answer is almost always, “Well, we’ve already been doing this for eight months. I don’t want to start over.” In economics, this is the Sunk Cost Fallacy. It is the irrational belief that because you have already invested time or effort, you must keep investing to make it “worth it.” It’s the Casino Effect. You feed $500 into a slot machine, lose it all, but keep playing because you’ve already “invested” so much. Dating “situationships” work exactly the same way through Intermittent Reinforcement. If you pressed a lever and never got a treat, you’d stop. But if you get a treat sometimes—that one “good morning” text after three days of silence—you will press that lever until your arm falls off. You aren’t staying for the relationship; you are staying for the dopamine hit of the “win.” You are addicted to the potential of who they could be, rather than the reality of who they are.
We also have to consider Opportunity Cost. Every time you say “Yes” to one thing, you are implicitly saying “No” to something else. When you spend your Friday night waiting by the phone for a “maybe” text from someone who is lukewarm about you, the cost isn’t just a boring night. The cost is that you didn’t go to that gallery opening where you might have met someone amazing. The cost is the slow erosion of your self-esteem. I see so many people holding onto a mediocre relationship as a “placeholder,” thinking they will stay until they find someone better. But here is the catch: You cannot find someone better while your hands are full of garbage. Energetically, when you are consumed by a toxic situationship, you are closed off. You walk into a room, and you have that frantic, anxious energy. You aren’t open to connection because you are too busy obsessing over why they haven’t watched your Instagram story yet. You have to clear the inventory to make space for new stock.
So, how do we fix a crashed market? In economics, we look for Market Equilibrium—the sweet spot where Supply meets Demand. In a relationship, this looks like Reciprocity. The biggest mistake people make is trying to negotiate desire. You send long paragraphs explaining why you deserve better, but here is the hard truth: You cannot negotiate genuine desire. You can only present your value and see if they can afford it. Stop doing “husband” or “wife” duties for someone who is on a “first date” budget. You need to Match Energy. Use the “Rowing Test.” Imagine you are in a canoe with this person. If you stop rowing, what happens to the boat? Does the other person pick up the paddle and start working to get to you? Or does the boat just drift aimlessly? If the boat stops moving the second you stop trying, you were never in a relationship; you were just taking someone for a ride.
I didn’t write this to make you feel bad about being nice. Being loving, generous, and open is a beautiful thing. The world needs more of it. But you have to protect your inventory. Your time, your heart, and your energy are finite resources. Every hour you spend obsessing over someone who won’t text you back is an hour you steal from a hobby you love, a friend who misses you, or a future partner who is actually looking for what you’re selling. Don’t let the “Simp Economy” bankrupt you. Your stock is high. Your value is inherent. Stop selling it at a discount to people who can’t afford the price tag. The only shame isn’t in admitting the market has turned against you—the shame is staying in a bad trade once you know the truth.
We often talk about love in terms of “vibes,” “chemistry,” or “fate.” We want to believe it’s magic. But if you strip away the romance novels and the Hallmark movies, dating is a marketplace. It operates on the ruthless laws of Supply and Demand. And right now, a lot of us—myself included in the past—are victims of our own bad business strategy. We are entering the “Simp Economy.” This isn’t about playing games or manipulation; it is about understanding that desperation is the ultimate value-killer. If you want to stop losing, you have to understand the market. Biologically and psychologically, to “Simp” (or to “over-function,” as we might call it in counseling circles) is simply to invest a high amount of resources—time, money, emotional energy—into someone who is giving you a low return on that investment. In economic theory, we call this Inflation.
Think about it: What happens when a government prints too much money? The value of the dollar crashes. Suddenly, you need a wheelbarrow of cash just to buy a loaf of bread. The same thing happens in dating. When you offer constant availability, endless compliments, and unwavering validation to someone who hasn’t earned it, you are essentially printing too much “You” currency. You are inflating the supply. And when supply exceeds demand, the value drops to zero. I once worked with a guy named Dave who sent a woman a “Good morning beautiful!” text every single day for three weeks after one coffee date. He thought he was being consistent; she ghosted him. I had to tell him, “Dave, you didn’t give her romance. You gave her junk mail.” Because he gave that validation freely without reciprocation, it was a flyer left on a windshield. Ladies, I see you doing this too, usually paying with emotional labor—playing the “Unpaid Therapist” for men who won’t commit to dinner, hoping that if you make yourself useful enough, he won’t leave. That isn’t a relationship; that is an internship, and you aren’t getting hired.
If there is one rule in economics that holds true in every market, from real estate to rare sneakers to romance, it is this: Scarcity creates value. Why is a diamond worth more than a pebble? They are both just rocks. But you have to dig for a diamond. You have to work for it. A pebble is just… there. In my early dating years, I was a pebble. If a girl texted me at 4:30 PM on a Tuesday, I’d drop everything. I wanted to show her “Look how much I prioritize you!” But she didn’t feel prioritized; she felt suffocated. This brings us to the modern dating term, the “Ick.” It sounds silly, but it’s biological. When someone is always available and has zero boundaries, your evolutionary brain rings an alarm bell asking, “Is their market value lower than I thought?” We have to stop signaling that our time has zero Opportunity Cost. If you are always free, you are signaling that your time is cheap. People want to feel like they “won” your time, like they snagged a slot in a busy schedule.
Here is a question I often ask my friends who are successful lawyers or doctors—people who are logical in the boardroom but chaos in the bedroom: “Why are you still with them?” The answer is almost always, “Well, we’ve already been doing this for eight months. I don’t want to start over.” In economics, this is the Sunk Cost Fallacy. It is the irrational belief that because you have already invested time or effort, you must keep investing to make it “worth it.” It’s the Casino Effect. You feed $500 into a slot machine, lose it all, but keep playing because you’ve already “invested” so much. Dating “situationships” work exactly the same way through Intermittent Reinforcement. If you pressed a lever and never got a treat, you’d stop. But if you get a treat sometimes—that one “good morning” text after three days of silence—you will press that lever until your arm falls off. You aren’t staying for the relationship; you are staying for the dopamine hit of the “win.” You are addicted to the potential of who they could be, rather than the reality of who they are.
We also have to consider Opportunity Cost. Every time you say “Yes” to one thing, you are implicitly saying “No” to something else. When you spend your Friday night waiting by the phone for a “maybe” text from someone who is lukewarm about you, the cost isn’t just a boring night. The cost is that you didn’t go to that gallery opening where you might have met someone amazing. The cost is the slow erosion of your self-esteem. I see so many people holding onto a mediocre relationship as a “placeholder,” thinking they will stay until they find someone better. But here is the catch: You cannot find someone better while your hands are full of garbage. Energetically, when you are consumed by a toxic situationship, you are closed off. You walk into a room, and you have that frantic, anxious energy. You aren’t open to connection because you are too busy obsessing over why they haven’t watched your Instagram story yet. You have to clear the inventory to make space for new stock.
So, how do we fix a crashed market? In economics, we look for Market Equilibrium—the sweet spot where Supply meets Demand. In a relationship, this looks like Reciprocity. The biggest mistake people make is trying to negotiate desire. You send long paragraphs explaining why you deserve better, but here is the hard truth: You cannot negotiate genuine desire. You can only present your value and see if they can afford it. Stop doing “husband” or “wife” duties for someone who is on a “first date” budget. You need to Match Energy. Use the “Rowing Test.” Imagine you are in a canoe with this person. If you stop rowing, what happens to the boat? Does the other person pick up the paddle and start working to get to you? Or does the boat just drift aimlessly? If the boat stops moving the second you stop trying, you were never in a relationship; you were just taking someone for a ride.
I didn’t write this to make you feel bad about being nice. Being loving, generous, and open is a beautiful thing. The world needs more of it. But you have to protect your inventory. Your time, your heart, and your energy are finite resources. Every hour you spend obsessing over someone who won’t text you back is an hour you steal from a hobby you love, a friend who misses you, or a future partner who is actually looking for what you’re selling. Don’t let the “Simp Economy” bankrupt you. Your stock is high. Your value is inherent. Stop selling it at a discount to people who can’t afford the price tag. The only shame isn’t in admitting the market has turned against you—the shame is staying in a bad trade once you know the truth.
