Will A Dating-App Relationship Ever Feel Quite Right?
Society’s collective attitude towards dating apps has transformed drastically over recent years. Once riddled with stigma — seen as a tool used only by the ‘last ones on the bench’ — dating apps are now totally normalised. From teens to the elderly, it seems we could all do with a leg-up in love, and apps appear to offer just that.
The notion that dating apps only work for hookups and late-night booty-calls, feels outdated. A survey conducted by Simple Texting in 2017 found that 38% of men and 44% of women on dating apps were looking for long term relationships — and I can only assume that these numbers have increased since then. But then there’s the ongoing debate as to whether dating apps are actually effective as a ‘modern-day matchmaker’. We needn’t search very far to see evidence of, what seems like, success — happy, hand-holding couples in the park, who owe it all to Tinder. But do these relationships really stand the test of time? I would argue that dating apps haven’t been around long enough for us to know yet.
Having had an — albeit brief — go on Hinge, which led to an — albeit brief — relationship, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my days with this guy were numbered. I felt plagued with an awareness of the means by which we met, and a sense that love isn’t supposed to happen like this. Though our connection was undoubtedly real, the whole romance often felt totally surreal.
A close friend recently disclosed to me that she feels the same. She is nearly a year into a very happy relationship, facilitated by Hinge. He is a good-egg; she adores his company and relishes the times they spend together; but something still doesn’t sit right with her. She feels the legitimacy of their relationship is somehow undermined by the fact that it was born on Hinge.
I couldn’t help but feel I was cheating fate by using a dating app; that I was interfering with this magical thing we call ‘destiny’; that, through my man-made meddling, I would end up with someone that I wasn’t necessarily supposed to be with. If it hadn’t been for Hinge, would the universe have ever brought us together?
The idea of meeting someone at a party, at a cafe, or being introduced through friends, has come to seem overly-romanticised and idealistic, but I stand by it. When you meet in real-life, there is usually a shared factor that unites you: a mutual friend, a favourite type of cuisine, an appreciation of art, a similar use of free time, a geographical location — things that indicate common values and interests, or a similar way of life. On an app, this organic, natural filtering process is eliminated — we can only judge our compatibility on what we’ve chosen to share on our profiles. Matchmakers are, of course, an age-old concept, and still operate in many modern-day communities, but the difference is that, with a real-life matchmaker, compatibility is being judged by a living, breathing, feeling person, who knows both families and the backgrounds of each individual.
I’m a strong believer in the initial spark of meeting someone. Though first impressions can, of course, be wrong, our gut-reaction is usually right. When our first impressions are made online, we are unable to get an accurate sense of this raw, honest response to a person. These first judgements are made on superficial grounds — their appearance in a handful of photographs, the way they dress, their wit when answering questions — all of which have been carefully selected and edited. The version of ourselves that we present on these apps is a contrived, hence the version of each other that we’ve taken a liking to is not actually our truest selves. I guess I fear that the person I’ve fallen for is, in fact, just a fabricated character, who only exists online.
The gamification of relationships through dating apps — the swift swiping left and right, which doesn’t feel much different to a session of Temple Run — feels like it somehow negates the integrity of a relationship. The fact that it originated in the virtual world, means it can be hard to embed it in reality. Discussing the culture of dating apps in her interview for The Waterstones Podcast, author and journalist Dolly Alderton explained:
“On an unconscious level…what bubbles underneath dating app culture is the sense of ‘Well, that’s just a profile…a 2D person…an opportunity…These profiles, these people, they’re not humans, they’re an opportunity for an experience that will benefit me; therefore it doesn’t matter if I’ve had one date with them or I’ve been dating them for a couple of months’. It’s kind of like we’re in a video game — I’ve got to the end of my game; it was fun; now I’m coming out of the game.”
The ease by which we are able to find one another on an app also makes it feel very easy to leave. We don’t feel we owe these people — who were only recently strangers — the same level of accountability and care that we would feel if we’d met them through a mutual friend. Though the lack of any former ties to the outside world may feel liberating (as your relationship isn’t being scrutinised and interfered with by people you both know), it can also make the relationship feel as if it exists in its own bubble — up-in-the-air, not rooted in pre-existing reality. And if the bubble pops, there is little excess damage. It’s a clean exit.
I also wonder whether the future of a relationship is jeopardised by the knowledge that, were it to end, there would be plenty more opportunities to come. Surely, having both born witness to the endless catalogue of singletons online, the prospect of the current relationship coming to an end becomes slightly less daunting? As Dolly said ‘You feel like you’ve got these thousands and thousands of opportunities just sitting in your pocket…the feature of swiping is like flipping a human Lakeland catalogue’. This culture of the commodification of people — the ability to shop around — cannot, I believe, breed the stable foundations for a comfortable, loyal, long-lasting relationship.
Although establishing a relationship through an app has come to be the norm, there still seems to be residual shame around admitting so. There’s a collective sense of regret that our generation won’t have the same heart-warming stories to tell as our parents’ and grandparents’ generations — of chance encounters and love at first sight. Many of us still long for a love story that isn’t written by algorithms. So, will we ever be able to come to terms with the truth? When we are asked, time after time, about how we met, will we ever be able to say confidently and unapologetically that it was thanks to a Hinge? Or will it forever feel unnatural to be a product of an app, a label that we can’t live with?
If dating apps work for you, then that’s brilliant; I have no doubt that, for many people, apps will facilitate a long, fulfilling life of love. But, for me, I think that love found in this way will always feel a little tarnished and forced. As with so many aspects of life today, humans have developed a scientific, quantifiable, calculated approach to love — but I’m not sure it’s meant to work that way. Like shopping for a dress online, and being spoilt for choice, I’ll never be certain I’ve put the right one in my basket.
In my opinion, the strongest of relationships are formed when two lives just happen to collide. Until now, love has always been inexplicable and mystical in its nature, and it seems to have worked. So maybe we should just leave it to do its thing?