“I open up ‘The App’ as she talks. Very much the usual faces, torsos, and sunsets. I won’t name The App because I’m classy but essentially, it's a dating app which encourages sexual connections and mental health issues.”— The Comedian, Feeling Afraid As If Something Terrible Is Going To Happen
Let’s face it. All humans long for connection. Many have been awake at 3 am, scrolling through their phones, fighting the urge to hit the install button, only to succumb to feelings of boredom or loneliness strong enough to make them redownload Hinge. Or Tinder. Or Bumble. Or Grindr. Or one of the dozens of apps that promise a cure for loneliness. Despite the legion of dating apps at our fingertips, there remains the persistent debate on whether or not people can swipe their way into genuine connection. What happens when a match goes beyond the internet, without the support of an expertly curated profile? Are dating apps tricking people into trading genuine intimacy for an endless flood of ab-flashing photos?
Here are the hard numbers. According to a 2023 survey from the Pew Research Center, of 6000+ adult participants, roughly one in 10 adults found their partner through a dating app. Those percentages shot up with younger LGBTQ users, with one in five adults under 30 finding love online and one in four LGBTQ+ adults swiping their way into someone’s heart. Many respondents agreed that dating apps make the search for connection more convenient, with 42% saying online dating platforms made it easier to find potential partners, and 21% believing that dating algorithms can accurately predict love matches. So there’s hope, right? But if they’re so convenient and useful, why do so many people hate dating apps?
Opinions become more polarized when the survey shifts from the effectiveness of dating apps to how dating apps make people feel. The same survey found a roughly 50/50 split on the experience of using dating apps. Roughly half of the surveyed users cited positive experiences, while the other half cited negative ones. Peer-reviewed journals such as Psychology and Sexuality, Telematics and Informatics, and Psychology of Men and Masculinities explore the intimate relationship between dating apps and self-perception.
In recent conversations, the gamification of dating has come under scrutiny, as users question whether the optimization of dating apps is more concerning than it is connective. The game-like aspects are rooted in oversimplification. Swiping platforms like Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge take away the complexities of meeting people in real life and boil people down to their photos and a little bit of text. This allows users to “see” several people at a time and learn tidbits about their personality, without the challenge of pulling the information out another person in real time.
It also simplifies the user’s goals. They aren't required to articulate the type of relationship they’re looking for, or invest time and feelings into getting to know someone—users simply have to choose and be chosen by someone. While these apps claim to be a means to an end, with taglines like “designed to be deleted,” it’s the swiping and shopping of it all that keeps users hooked. Human dopamine receptors are wired to get a much quicker hit from the random “You got a match!” notifications than they do from undertaking the rumination and potential rejection of composing the first direct message.
Just like every game, there are cheat codes to online dating platforms that reinforce the goal of maximizing matches over finding a genuine connection off-screen. Many online dating platforms offer premium subscriptions that promise to boost profile engagement and visibility for a price– because more swipes mean more potential for connection. Users can buy power-ups like “super likes” and “roses” to be seen by profiles the app deems “most eligible”. The hope of a match and the potential for it to grow into something bigger is an easier pursuit, compared to the complexities of taking conversations offline. The dating apps don’t actually need to help users find love; to maintain a market, they only need to make users feel desired enough to believe love is possible.
Beyond the fun and entertainment that dating apps offer, there are emotional stakes that run deeper than the average video game. With profiles pitched as summaries of identity, it’s easy to tie dating app “success” to self-worth. Those who get a lot of matches get used to the frequent ego boost of having their desirability affirmed. Those who rarely match get stuck in a loop of rejection. This could explain the difference between people who find dating apps fun and entertaining in comparison to those who find them empty and meaningless. The same age groups that are more likely to seek and find love through dating platforms (Gen-Z and younger Millennials) are also at higher risk for social anxiety, which complicates the dopamine responses to dating apps. Following a wave of quarantine-induced social anxiety, NIH studies found that socially anxious young adults were more sensitive to feelings of rejection from dating apps and less likely to pursue their matches beyond the confines of the app.
So for the lucky few who are able to match and meet offline, what happens next? How does one undo the psychological impacts of programming that places more incentive on gathering matches than pursuing them in real life? Our comedian in Feeling Afraid as if Something Terrible Is Going To Happen is wondering the same thing, as he seeks to find whether or not his recent match truly understands his humor. As technology continues to become more complicated, so does dating. And while our comedian may not have all the answers, he finds hilarious ways to explore the questions.
— Nayanna Simone