A recent study by Pew Research found that nearly 50% of college students currently use or have used dating apps, with this percentage increasing steadily. The nature of dating apps is not for the faint of heart. With apps like Tinder, Hinge, Grindr, Raya, and Bumble, the organic process of meeting your soulmate has been reduced to a glorified game of “hot or not.”
The abundance of profiles on these platforms has commodified dating, stripping it away from chemistry and replacing it with trivial Hinge prompts or your Spotify anthem. So, what am I doing wrong? Am I ugly, boring, or even looking for a serious relationship?
There are pros and cons of these platforms and unfortunately, I have dabbled with almost all of them since starting college. Let me tell you, the profiles you swipe right on are the same people sitting next to you in your 2pm stats class or the guy you kissed 2 years ago and have been desperately trying to avoid since.
At its core, the reality of using these apps has fizzled down to the question of: are you looking for short-term fun, or is it time to settle down into a long-term relationship? Or do you find yourself slipping back into the purgatory of a situationship? I can say that I have had one successful Hinge date…while I was abroad in a foreign country with a man I probably would never see again after our week-long endeavor around Dublin and the greater coastal area.
Beyond that, my most ambitious foray was applying to Raya–seduced by the possibility of meeting a rich, hot, sexy athlete or possibly seeing the profile of a B-list celebrity. I could not have been more far off. I was absolutely elated when I received the email that I was now a candidate for a Raya membership after a mere two weeks. My ego was high, and I was ready to commit to the lowest tier membership for a $24 monthly fee in the name of love.
Long story short, I only got about 5 realistic matches–and 5 “fun” matches–which expired after 10 days. My feed was inundated with athletes, some actors, NYC finance bros, and, of course, DJs. The interface was clunky like it was designed by a hipster millennial minimalist in 2012. Little did I know you could filter your preferences, but there was a caveat: it would only show you global profiles. If you choose to ditch the filters and preferences, you are left with all ages and genders in your local area. Filter or no filter, you are left with probably 10 likes to send out 2 times a day. It was dark. My once very high ego was now deflated and I was $24 poorer and had nothing to show for it–except my phone, which is now rid of any and all dating apps.
Since this moment in December, I have taken control of my dating life and deleted all platforms from my phone. I’m not saying it’s impossible to find a meaningful connection on apps like Hinge or Tinder—I know people who’ve met their partners there and are now in long-term relationships. But for me? It’s just not going to work.
