The App designed to be “deleted”.

Woah, woah, woah, before I get attacked, yes, I’ve had one “successful” relationship from Hinge. Well… depends what you count as successful. Let’s just say it didn’t end in happily ever after, but it lasted longer than a few months, so I’m claiming it. Moving on.

Here’s the thing, dating apps are, for the most part, trash. Not because they don’t work at all, but because they weren’t built to actually help most people find love. They were built to keep you swiping.The wild part? The people these apps claim to serve, average, well-meaning, emotionally available humans, are usually the ones getting the least out of them. Meanwhile, the top 10 percent, the hottest, most algorithmically blessed users, rake in matches like it's harvest season. Everyone else is left circling in an attention economy dressed up as romance.

Before we go any further, I’m not going to play the sad, depressed dating app user. I’ve been lucky on the apps, and in real life too. I won’t pretend to be something I’m not. I’ve benefited from the system.

But even as someone who’s “winning,” I still find myself deleting the apps out of sheer embarrassment. Not because they’re failing, but because I catch myself chasing empty validation. It feels gross, performative, like I’m collecting meaningless approval points from strangers.And yet, I always end up reinstalling. Maybe a few hours later, maybe a week. The pull is strong, and I don’t even know what I’m hoping to find half the time.

Apps work against you. Hinge especially. Have you ever matched someone who shows absolutely no sign of life on the app? That’s probably because they aren’t actually using it anymore.If I delete Hinge and reinstall it later, I’m suddenly faced with thousands of likes waiting for me. Why does this happen when I’ve already deleted the app?Even if you delete Hinge, you’re still shown regularly to new users. To be permanently removed, you have to jump through two different hoops.

So, why do they do this?

Here’s the dirty truth, dating apps are basically dopamine factories designed to keep you hooked.

They don’t just let you swipe endlessly by accident, they’re engineered to do it. Here’s how they mess with your brain,

• Variable rewards: You swipe, hoping for a match, but you never know when it’s gonna happen. It’s like a slot machine, and your brain loves that unpredictability. You keep going for “just one more.”

• Infinite scrolling: There’s no “last profile” button. You can keep swiping forever, and before you know it, 45 minutes have passed and you’ve got zero matches to show for it.

• Push notifications: Just when you’re about to give up, boom, a ping. “You’ve got a new like!” Anxiety, curiosity, FOMO, all the feels that pull you right back in.

• Read receipts and typing dots: Seeing that someone read your message but isn’t replying? Or watching those little dots wiggle as they “type”? It’s torture, but also addictive as hell.

• Boosts and super-likes: Wanna feel special? Pay for it. These little paid perks play right into your fear of missing out and make you shell out cash just to get noticed.

• Profile visibility tricks: The more you swipe, the more the app shows your profile to others. It’s like a creepy popularity contest, and it keeps you grinding.

• Limited likes per day: They hand you a tiny number of likes each day to create fake scarcity. You hoard them like gold and come back tomorrow for more.

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All of this is no accident, it’s a calculated game designed to keep you scrolling, swiping, and spending. And yeah, it’s exhausting.

Let’s get real about the 90 percent who aren’t part of the “top ten percent.” You know, the cute, genuine humans just trying to be themselves, the ones who post candid photos, write honest bios, and actually want something real.

Now imagine being tossed into a digital playground full of filtered selfies, staged group shots, and people who look like they walked off a reality TV set. Future Love Island contestants, basically.

For the average user, it’s like trying to win a game where the rules are rigged. You’re swimming against a tide of hyper polished profiles and algorithmic favouritism, set up for failure before you even swipe right.

And here’s the kicker, it messes with your head. When you’re constantly competing with impossible standards and getting ignored, it chips away at your confidence. You start wondering, “What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I get matches like that?”

Dating apps don’t just waste your time, they can make you feel invisible, inadequate, or like you’re a consolation prize. That emotional toll is very real, and it’s a side of these apps no one talks about enough.

What can you do?

Match with Dan , you know, the guy with glasses and a cute dog who has photos with his nan. Stop posting pictures of yourself that look totally unreal. Give real people a chance, at least.

And for fuck’s sake, go outside!

Seriously, no app can replace the messy, imperfect magic of real human connection. Swipe less, live more. Talk to strangers in coffee shops, go to that local event, actually meet people in the wild.Dating apps are a tool, not a lifestyle. If you’re stuck scrolling endlessly, take a step back and remind yourself there’s a world beyond the screen full of real, flawed, wonderful people waiting to meet you.

So put down your phone, look up, and try a little awkward face-to-face interaction. It might just surprise you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Alright, listen up, this might be the most important author’s note I’ve ever spat out. Spoiler, I’m no picture perfect model, more like your average, slightly messy human trying to survive. 😂

If you’re one of my regulars, you already know that whatever “looks” I might come across as bluffing about, my brain definitely isn’t winning any awards up there. But hey, that’s what makes raw writing , right?

Don’t mistake this for fake humble brag or some sad “woe is me” sob story. If I said I sucked at dating apps, first off, that’s some next level “pick me” bullshit, and second, I’d be lying through my teeth. I’ve had my moments of glory, my epic fails, and enough “what the actual fuck” stories to fill a dumpster.This ain’t about playing victim or pretending I’m the king of swipes. It’s about ripping the mask off these creepy, addictive, soul sucking apps, and showing what it’s really like to be stuck in their twisted little games.

So buckle the hell up, pour yourself something strong, and let’s get savage.