I was sexually assaulted by a guy I met on Bumble. Now, I’m building a better way to meet people.

I was 20, studying abroad for a semester in London, and having no luck using Tinder. So, I tried Bumble instead. A few days later, I found myself in the apartment of a man I had matched with on Bumble, learning what fight or flight felt like. I remember telling myself to act normally, so I could escape safely. When I reached the street, I texted my friend who was 1,000 miles away studying abroad in Vienna, who was the only person I knew would be awake. I knew something bad had happened to me, but I remember being in denial for the first few messages we exchanged. She finally told me, “Jamie, I love you. But you were sexually assaulted.” As I took a seat on the bus, it set in that I was in a foreign city with no one I knew and no knowledge of what to do next. I opened Bumble, the app that was supposed to be safest for women, and left a report. Bumble never got back to me.

Six months later, I was sitting in my childhood bedroom in the middle of the pandemic, swiping on Hinge. I was on Hinge because it was marketed as the “serious dating app” with its pithy slogan of “designed to be deleted.” And yet, I was matching with guys who would ghost me the second it was clear I wasn’t interested in a one night stand.

Each dating app I turned to led to new frustrations. And looking back, I understand why. Each new dating app arrives on the scene by marketing itself as the solution to a problem with an existing app. However, they all share the identical structure of swipe, match, meet up or ghost.

1. Hinge, because people on dating apps aren’t looking for anything serious.
2. Bumble, because guys on dating apps are gross.
3. Raya, because people on dating apps aren’t elite.
4. Lox Club, because most of us are still on the Raya waitlist.

The list of our problems with dating apps goes on. And yet, their popularity persists. It’s important to note that the fundamental reason we stay on dating apps when they disappoint us is… because they disappoint us. The longer it takes for dating apps to deliver on their promise of a solid match, the more money they make off of us. So while we are looking for a perfect match, dating apps are in the business of looking for ways to keep us swiping and messaging on their platform.

As I sat in my bedroom, staring at irrelevant profiles on Hinge and being reminded of my sexual assault, I thought there needs to be a different way. My conviction is that community guidelines and different branding cannot change the problems inherent to meeting people online, where accountability is removed and bad actors are empowered.

So, I built something new. I was on a mission to create a better way to meet people that rejected the swipe, match, and meet up or ghost model that has, for too long, gone unscrutinized.

I started with one question: when do my friends and I find meeting people fun? The unanimous answer: in person. We could catch the vibe of someone within a minute or two of chatting at a party. Beyond the efficiency, it also felt safer because we weren’t alone. We valued that there were no pre-existing expectations of an in-person conversation being professional, romantic, or friendly, and we liked how if we weren’t feeling it, it was easy to walk away. We valued that people at the same events as us likely had mutual interests or mutual friends; they felt relevant. But if all this is true, why was everyone on dating apps instead of relying on the events that they’re already going to to meet people? Certainly, there is a cohort of people who will always prefer to be behind a screen; the same way there are people who will always opt to use Reddit to ask a question they have instead of asking a friend. But from my friends’ experiences, I knew there had to be many people like us, who love meeting people in person but still found themselves reluctantly spending hours on the apps.

I interviewed over 100 college students and post grads to understand why so many were giving dating apps chance after chance instead of relying on real life experiences. Most people confirmed that they wanted to stay connected with multiple guests after events, but social stigma (and anxiety) around reaching out the next day kept them from doing so. So, I tested a solution to this at my birthday party when, without giving any context, I sent out a list the morning after to everyone who was there — the group was full of friends from different places who didn’t know each other, like work, high school, and college. The list included everyone’s name, photos, and Instagram links. I found that 90% of people looked at the list, 70% looked at it for over 2 minutes, and 50% followed at least 3 other guests on Instagram. Guests texted me that receiving the list the next day destigmatized connecting with someone afterwards. A follow on Instagram was not seen as the result of a creepy or try-hard search because the list had made it natural. After experimenting with both post-grad and college cohorts, I decided to build the product my friends and I wished we had in college. A safe, authentic, and fun way to meet people for any type of connection.

Today, Flox is a location-based app that allows college students to check into the places they party at and connect with everyone who was there, the next day. I don’t know if I can prevent what happened to me from happening to other people, but I do think a start is questioning how we’re meeting people today and acknowledging when they fail us. I hope that what I’m building can be a meaningful alternative to current options that I know a lot of us find to be soul-sucking and unsafe. I envision a world where we can all meet new people…not by starting with a swipe, but by going out with friends.

If you or someone you know is a survivor of sexual violence and needs help, calling the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline connects you with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area. Call 800.656.HOPE (4673) or click here for more information.