Welcome to Capitol Hill, the only dating scene where “commitment” means pledging eternal loyalty to whichever corporation bought the last round of campaign ads. Forget Tinder, Bumble, or Hinge, Congress has perfected the algorithm where lobbyists and lawmakers swipe on each other, match instantly, and ghost the rest of us.

Swipe Right on Special Interests

Lobbyists don’t need gym selfies, sunsets, or “dog dad” bios. Their profile is simple: I’ve got a check with your name on it. Want to grab dinner? And Congress, perpetually underfunded and insecure about reelection, swipes right faster than a senator on a defense contractor’s private jet.

The “first message” is usually an email that starts with Dear Honorable [Insert Name Here] and ends with PS: here’s a campaign donation. The “date”? A closed-door meeting disguised as a policy roundtable. The “second date”? A weekend retreat at a golf resort where everyone conveniently forgets that normal people can’t afford insulin.

Ghosting the Public

Like any dating app, ghosting is part of the culture. Only here, it’s the American public that gets ghosted. Remember that campaign promise about student loan relief? Or lowering prescription costs? Yeah, those texts went unanswered the moment a pharmaceutical lobbyist showed up in a suit that cost more than your car. Congress left us on “Read,” while telling their new lobbyist crush, “Sorry, I’m just too busy right now.”

Filibuster: The Ultimate Netflix and Chill

Dating apps have endless small talk that leads nowhere. Congress calls that a filibuster. It’s the political version of “U up?” at 3 AM, lots of noise, zero commitment, and nothing productive at the end. Senators drone on for hours while lobbyists cuddle closer, knowing nothing meaningful will actually change.

Premium Memberships

Like every dating app, Congress has a free tier and a premium one. Citizens get the free plan: you can send an email, maybe attend a town hall, and hope your rep remembers your name. Lobbyists get the Platinum Plan: guaranteed access, custom perks, and the ability to schedule “dates” on yachts. It’s basically Tinder Gold, but instead of seeing who liked you, you see which tax loopholes are waiting to be passed into law.

The Engagement Phase

Eventually, Congress and their lobbyist bae “take it to the next level.” That’s when bills magically appear, written word-for-word by industry insiders, wrapped in patriotic language like “The Freedom and Jobs Act.” It’s not marriage; it’s legalized cohabitation. The public gets a wedding invite, but only to clap politely while someone else walks away with all the gifts.

Happily Ever After?

On dating apps, sometimes people actually find love. In Congress, sometimes a bill actually helps the public. But most of the time, the ending looks like this: instead of “universal healthcare”, we get “universal tax credits for medical device manufacturers.” Instead of “clean energy”, we get “clean coal subsidies.” And instead of “representing the people”, we get “representing whoever paid for the last steak dinner.”

So yes, Congress is basically a dating app. Only here, the matches aren’t made in heaven, they’re made in smoke-filled backrooms, sealed with PAC money, and consummated with a round of golf. And just like every other dating app, the rest of us are left swiping in vain, waiting for a reply that will never come.

Congress: Where love is transactional, loyalty is negotiable, and ghosting the American people is just part of the game.