Let's stop pretending everybody is looking for love. Some people are conducting job interviews for a roommate with benefits, a second income, free childcare, emotional support, and absolutely no complaints.

Dating has gotten interesting. People say they want a partner, but the list of qualifications sounds like they're hiring somebody to manage an entire household.

You need to make good money. Have your own place. Have a reliable vehicle. Be emotionally available. Be attractive. Be ambitious. Help with the bills. Help with the kids. Be romantic. Be spontaneous. Be patient. And somehow still have enough time, energy, and money to plan date nights.

At this point, are we dating or submitting applications for a position with no salary and unlimited responsibilities?

And here's where the conversation gets uncomfortable: some people aren't looking for somebody to build a life with. They're looking for somebody to make the life they're already living more affordable.

Rent is expensive, groceries are expensive, childcare is expensive, and maintaining a household on one income can be brutal. So suddenly having a relationship becomes less about companionship and more about splitting the financial damage.

There's nothing wrong with wanting a financially responsible partner. There's nothing wrong with splitting expenses, either. Two adults building a household should absolutely be able to discuss money openly. But if your primary reason for wanting somebody is that your bills are getting out of control, maybe you're not ready for a relationship. Maybe you're ready for a financial merger.

And let's talk about the double standards. Some people want traditional benefits with modern expectations. They want somebody to provide, protect, and take responsibility, but they don't necessarily want traditional responsibilities in return. Others want everything split 50/50 financially while expecting one person to handle most of the cooking, cleaning, planning, and childcare.

That's not equality. That's outsourcing your responsibilities while calling it teamwork.

Then there's the dating profile that reads like a corporate procurement document: must make six figures, own property, have no baggage, be emotionally intelligent, travel, communicate, and know how to treat somebody.

Meanwhile, the person posting the requirements might not have a savings account, a five-year plan, or the ability to apologize without issuing a press release explaining why they're actually the victim.

Everybody has standards. That's fine. But standards should include what you bring to the table, not just what you expect somebody else to deliver.

A relationship shouldn't feel like one person is interviewing for a position while the other person sits back evaluating benefits packages. Both people should be asking the same question: what kind of life can we build together?

Because if you're only interested in somebody when they can reduce your expenses, increase your comfort, or make your responsibilities easier, you're not necessarily looking for love. You're looking for a cost-saving strategy with a heartbeat.

Let's make this controversial: Are people genuinely dating for love anymore, or has dating quietly become a financial survival strategy where everybody is looking for somebody to split the mortgage?

And if your partner lost their income tomorrow, would you still want them—or would the relationship suddenly become an expense you can no longer justify?