Love in the Time of Algorithms
The absurdity and alienation of modern dating.
Welcome to Signals from Earth, essays on culture, life, and the questions that keep us restless. Sometimes sharp, sometimes tender—always searching for meaning in the mess.
A few weeks ago, I was unmatched by someone because, and I quote, “You don’t mask outside.” At first, I laughed. Then I stared at my phone, wondering if this was yet another piece of evidence telling me to give up on dating apps altogether. I mean, what even is the correct response to that? “Sorry, I’ll start wearing a mask at the park just for you?”
It’s moments like these that make me question why I bother with dating apps at all. I try my best to be thoughtful as I swipe, but it’s hard. So many profiles, so many bios to read, and even if you do like someone and send them a thoughtful message, the odds of actually matching feel stacked against you. It’s enough to make you want to throw your phone into the nearest body of water.
Ultimately, it’s an act of complete vulnerability to even create a profile in the first place. You put thought into your pictures and how you present yourself. You agonize over the opening messages you send. And when your effort is met with silence or indifference, it can feel like your vulnerability doesn’t matter. It reinforces insecurities you thought you’d buried: Am I unattractive? Unworthy of being wanted?
I hate to admit it, but there have been times when I’ve asked myself, “Are people not swiping on me because I’m fat?” The answer is undoubtedly yes for some. But it’s not really about that. It’s about how the dating app experience can threaten the precious inner work you thought you’d already done.
Since I like playing life on hard mode, I’m also polyamorous. You’d think that would open up a whole new world of people, but in reality, it just makes the dating pool smaller. Not only do you have to find someone you connect with, but they also have to be open to the idea of non-monogamy.
Actually making it to a first date feels like finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Except, and this is key, you haven’t actually met the person in person yet. They could have horrible hygiene, terrible conversation skills, or give toothy head. I went on a date where she took her teeth out before we ate. I’m too young for that shit.
Sure, it’s not all bad. I found two of my best friends through dating apps. In both situations, we dated for a while, then realized we’d be better as friends. Those are the moments that show you the beauty of meeting online: people you’d never bump into casually, yet who now make life that much fuller.
But those moments feel few and far between. Because these dating apps aren’t actually designed to enable meaningful connections—they’re designed to keep you swiping. The profit motive drives these companies to exploit our human need for connection, turning it into a commodity. And really, it’s only a few companies pulling the strings. Match Group, Inc. owns and operates Tinder, Hinge, OkCupid, Match.com, and Plenty of Fish.1 The illusion of choice in dating apps is exactly that: an illusion.
There’s a contradiction here. Dating apps promote the illusion of endless possibilities, but the more we swipe, the more disconnected we feel. The sheer volume of choices means nothing without connection.
Of course, the reason dating apps have become so popular is because of the increasing alienation people feel in social life. I was talking the other day to someone who told me their parents happened to meet tubing on a river in the ’80s. They were from completely different parts of the country. That kind of serendipity feels almost impossible now.
But even in the middle of a decaying system, humans will find a way to connect. We’re social creatures, after all, and love has a way of blooming even in the darkest of circumstances. Maybe the apps won’t save us, but they’re not the only way. Love—in all its forms—finds a way to break through, whether it’s on a dating app, after a protest, or tubing down a river.
I was reminded of this not long ago, when I met someone after a protest. She was struggling to parallel park, and I laughed a little—not at her (well, a little), but at the absurdity of the moment. She noticed me, struck up a conversation, and even complimented my hammer and sickle shirt. It felt like something out of a movie: a real, live meet-cute, happening organically, in the wild. And what did I do? I froze. I said goodbye and walked away, kicking myself for not asking for her number.
That certainly reminded me how out of practice I’ve become at connecting in person. But it’s also a reminder that love and connection don’t have to be mediated by algorithms. They can happen anywhere, anytime—if we’re brave enough to make the first move.
In the meantime, I’m still swiping. Still hoping. Maybe I’ll find another love of my life on there. Maybe I’ll find them in the revolution. Only time will tell.
Afzal, Maleha. 2024. "20 Dating Sites with the Most Users in 2024." Yahoo! Finance, January 17, 2024. https://finance.yahoo.com/news/20-dating-sites-most-users-171313020.html.