Chris Trottier on Nostr: Dating apps like Tinder, Hinge, and Bumble all share a massive problem. While this ...
Dating apps like Tinder, Hinge, and Bumble all share a massive problem.
While this isn’t based on empirical data, it’s something I’ve noticed over time, and when you start seeing patterns, you start recognizing trends. Here’s the trend: multiple single women have told me they wish men would approach them in bars for dates.
When I first heard this, my head almost did a 180. It wasn’t long ago that women consistently said they hated being approached in bars. And we’ve all heard the horror stories: creepy guys, unwanted advances, or men doing awful things like spiking drinks. But now, women are saying they’d prefer the bar scene to dating apps.
Let that sink in: dating apps have become so bad that women would rather deal with the potential discomfort of being approached by a stranger than rely on platforms like Tinder or Bumble. How did it come to this?
Here’s my take: these apps aren’t designed to help you find love. They don’t want you to find love. Why? Because the moment you do, you stop using the app. And when you stop using the app, they stop making money. Instead, these platforms are engineered to keep you swiping, keep you hooked, and keep you spending money. It’s an algorithmic game—and it’s rigged.
For example, Tinder uses a system called ELO (yes, they claim they don’t anymore, but they’ve been caught red-handed). ELO ranks users based on attractiveness. The more swipes you get, the higher your score; the fewer swipes, the lower your score. If your score is low, your profile gets buried unless you pay for visibility. But even if your score is high, the app monetizes you in other ways by pushing you to pay for features to appeal to lower-ranked users. It’s a lose-lose scenario.
What’s the result? A flood of endless swiping, shallow conversations that go nowhere, bots, scammers, and people who aren’t even looking for a real connection. Many are just boosting their egos with matches, not seeking actual dates. Even highly desirable people—those with great jobs, good looks, and stable lives—struggle to get anywhere meaningful. I know people who’ve spent hundreds of dollars on these apps only to walk away empty-handed.
And let’s not forget Bumble. It was supposed to revolutionize dating by giving women the power to make the first move. But even Bumble has strayed from its original mission. Men can now initiate contact, and Bumble has become nearly indistinguishable from Tinder, apart from its branding. Once again, the focus is less on facilitating real connections and more on keeping users engaged and harvesting their data.
Speaking of data, these companies thrive on it. Your love life is just another commodity. In the early 2000s, platforms like OkCupid openly published insights based on user behavior. It was shocking, but at least they were transparent. Now, every swipe, message, and match feeds a bigger machine—a machine that prioritizes data collection and profit over helping you find love.
This toxic cycle has led to a resurgence in face-to-face dating. Speed dating, a relic of the 1990s, is making a comeback. More people are returning to bars, willing to take their chances with real-life interactions, despite the risks. Why? Because the alternative—dating apps—has become even worse.
For full disclosure: I met my wife through an online dating app, but that was nearly 20 years ago. Back then, dating apps weren’t the exploitative machines they are now. I wasn’t bombarded with paywalls or algorithms designed to keep me single. I found someone, we hit it off, and the app served its purpose. I stopped using it, and that was that. But that’s the problem for these companies: users like me are bad for business.
What’s the future of dating? I believe we’ll see a growing return to traditional methods—meeting in bars, social events, and speed dating. The dissatisfaction with online dating is palpable. I’ve never encountered an industry as universally hated as the dating app industry. It’s only a matter of time before someone disrupts the market with a better, more ethical alternative.
Until then, these apps will continue chasing short-term profits, sacrificing long-term user satisfaction. Personally, I don’t think Tinder, Bumble, or Hinge will be around in ten years.
While this isn’t based on empirical data, it’s something I’ve noticed over time, and when you start seeing patterns, you start recognizing trends. Here’s the trend: multiple single women have told me they wish men would approach them in bars for dates.
When I first heard this, my head almost did a 180. It wasn’t long ago that women consistently said they hated being approached in bars. And we’ve all heard the horror stories: creepy guys, unwanted advances, or men doing awful things like spiking drinks. But now, women are saying they’d prefer the bar scene to dating apps.
Let that sink in: dating apps have become so bad that women would rather deal with the potential discomfort of being approached by a stranger than rely on platforms like Tinder or Bumble. How did it come to this?
Here’s my take: these apps aren’t designed to help you find love. They don’t want you to find love. Why? Because the moment you do, you stop using the app. And when you stop using the app, they stop making money. Instead, these platforms are engineered to keep you swiping, keep you hooked, and keep you spending money. It’s an algorithmic game—and it’s rigged.
For example, Tinder uses a system called ELO (yes, they claim they don’t anymore, but they’ve been caught red-handed). ELO ranks users based on attractiveness. The more swipes you get, the higher your score; the fewer swipes, the lower your score. If your score is low, your profile gets buried unless you pay for visibility. But even if your score is high, the app monetizes you in other ways by pushing you to pay for features to appeal to lower-ranked users. It’s a lose-lose scenario.
What’s the result? A flood of endless swiping, shallow conversations that go nowhere, bots, scammers, and people who aren’t even looking for a real connection. Many are just boosting their egos with matches, not seeking actual dates. Even highly desirable people—those with great jobs, good looks, and stable lives—struggle to get anywhere meaningful. I know people who’ve spent hundreds of dollars on these apps only to walk away empty-handed.
And let’s not forget Bumble. It was supposed to revolutionize dating by giving women the power to make the first move. But even Bumble has strayed from its original mission. Men can now initiate contact, and Bumble has become nearly indistinguishable from Tinder, apart from its branding. Once again, the focus is less on facilitating real connections and more on keeping users engaged and harvesting their data.
Speaking of data, these companies thrive on it. Your love life is just another commodity. In the early 2000s, platforms like OkCupid openly published insights based on user behavior. It was shocking, but at least they were transparent. Now, every swipe, message, and match feeds a bigger machine—a machine that prioritizes data collection and profit over helping you find love.
This toxic cycle has led to a resurgence in face-to-face dating. Speed dating, a relic of the 1990s, is making a comeback. More people are returning to bars, willing to take their chances with real-life interactions, despite the risks. Why? Because the alternative—dating apps—has become even worse.
For full disclosure: I met my wife through an online dating app, but that was nearly 20 years ago. Back then, dating apps weren’t the exploitative machines they are now. I wasn’t bombarded with paywalls or algorithms designed to keep me single. I found someone, we hit it off, and the app served its purpose. I stopped using it, and that was that. But that’s the problem for these companies: users like me are bad for business.
What’s the future of dating? I believe we’ll see a growing return to traditional methods—meeting in bars, social events, and speed dating. The dissatisfaction with online dating is palpable. I’ve never encountered an industry as universally hated as the dating app industry. It’s only a matter of time before someone disrupts the market with a better, more ethical alternative.
Until then, these apps will continue chasing short-term profits, sacrificing long-term user satisfaction. Personally, I don’t think Tinder, Bumble, or Hinge will be around in ten years.