Lately, I've been drowning in schoolwork and spending an embarrassing amount on Uber Eats. So naturally, instead of fixing my spending habits, I found a website to fix them for me.

Enter dopamine sites. Apparently, you can get the thrill of shopping without actually buying anything.

Sounds like financial responsibility to me!

The experience is surprisingly elaborate. You can browse dishes, place an order, track your delivery, and even watch your imaginary rider make their way to your house.

There's a whole delivery journey. Order confirmed. Kitchen cooking. Rider picked up. Almost at your door.

All the excitement of ordering takeout, without the part where $20 mysteriously disappears from my bank account.

For once, my appetite and my finances were getting along.

But here's the thing. They REALLY want you to know it's fake.

Your rider is literally a cartoon animal. The phone number is a drawing of a phone. And when you call, a robot tells you it can't find your place after approximately TWO SECONDS.

Then there's the constant reminder that your food isn't actually coming. The app even gives you the recipe so you can make it yourself.

Excuse me? I ordered delivery specifically because I DIDN'T want to cook.

I get that the point is to stop me from spending money, but why go through all the trouble of recreating a delivery experience just to ruin the illusion?

If you're going to let me pretend to be rich, at least commit to the lie.

Did I get the dopamine? Maybe.

Did I stop craving takeout? Not really.

If anything, I got a little too comfortable with the experience of ordering things without paying for them.

And I can't shake the feeling that this is just practice for the future. One day, when I have the money, I can do exactly what I'm doing now. Ordering whatever I want, whenever I want, without a single thought about the price.

I came here to control my spending urges. Why am I training them instead?

If the point is to help people spend less, maybe recreating the fun part of spending isn't the answer.

What if the site called me out instead? Tell me how much money I've wasted on delivery fees. Show me how many groceries I could've bought with that one imaginary order. Maybe even shame me for ordering a $20 meal I could make for $5.

Or, if it's supposed to be a fantasy, make it a damn good one. Give me a convincing delivery experience. Let me enjoy my imaginary food without constantly reminding me that I'm broke.

Because right now, we're doing something pretty ridiculous.

We've invented a way to consume without consuming. And somehow, I'm leaving hungry for more.

I came here to save money. Now I'm just looking forward to the day I won't have to.