When dating apps dull our relationships—instead of enhance them
In the world that is the college campus, where it’s easy to run into new people on a daily, if not hourly basis, it seems absurd that dating apps would step in to fill a void. And yet they have; my close friends talk about it, men I know from class and other social circles have popped up on my screen, and it’s not uncommon to see people swiping (mostly left) at parties when there’s a lull in the action.
They’re great, theoretically: you meet new people, get some good conversation, maybe meet up, possibly have sex, or, if such is the goal, embark on a path towards a meaningful relationship. Yet, given the complexity of human emotions and the way we express them, more often than not, matches become dead ends. This occurrence also mirrors day-to-day life — glances that aren’t flirtatious enough, misread signals, missed opportunities.
But through conversations had with friends, and seeing it first-hand myself, it’s become clearer that the environment these apps create extends beyond those who use them, affecting the relationships of people who have either deleted them in disgust or have never tried them in the first place.
They create a world of no accountability, in which people are easily discarded and the messier parts of human interaction are swept under the rug because, suddenly, they’ve become too complicated to deal with.
Paradoxically, it’s acceptable to ignore feelings as though they’re a barrier to intimacy, be that physical or emotional.
An increasing trend in relationships, be they hookups or on their way to something more, is the phenomenon of “being chill” — which is, arguably, a way of acting that helps no one and leave all parties feeling confused. Though it’s difficult to say whether dating apps caused this or just helped popularize it, countless people I’ve spoken to and many other Internet strangers have all spoken about grappling with how to express what they want to the other person, all out of fear that they may look too invested or care too much about how they envision their relationship playing out.
Whatever the case, relationships have become increasingly casual to the point that people are discardable — literally: it takes a single swipe left to send someone’s picture into the void — which, despite giving us the illusion of choice, cheapens the few eventual encounters to which dating apps lead.
It’s uncomfortable to admit, but at that point, the ease of swiping and dismissing others’ profiles has taught us that there will always be another person around the corner.
If using an app leads to a conversation or meeting in person, the behavior that sparked that encounter is implicitly ingrained in us: ghosting is real and ever-present, causing us to treat others as though we won’t be held accountable for our actions. They might not have been the original problem, but in a world in which everything moves quickly, it’s now acceptable to treat people in a way we never would had we met them first face-to-face. Friendships and relationships — at least, most kinds — don’t end by ghosting, nor do they start with borderline-obscene messages that are a dime a dozen on Tinder or Bumble.
This casualness with which we treat others, made normal by dating apps, seems like it could remain stuck in that world; people who don’t use them or are in relationships are, theoretically, untouched by the way people are swiped upon, chatted up, or discarded.
Such is not the case, however. Others’ behavior on apps is nowhere near isolated. Emotions have been historically difficult to deal with — which is a large understatement. Dating apps only make it easier to shove them away without confronting them: much easier to not share that you’ve been ghosted by the fifth person this week, and far more simple to keep things casual on Tinder than to suggest a coffee date — such a move would betray an interest in wanting more.
It’s become almost acceptable to not deal with one’s feelings: why complicate things?
The consequences don’t seem so dire, if there are any at all. Yet suddenly it’s much cooler to not publicly acknowledge any kinds of feelings that arise, ironically, from so-called dating apps. This expectation that hooking up (which is, for many, the primary reason for using such an app) is purely transactional doesn’t exist solely on one’s phone; in face-to-face interactions, they’re perceived as too much work.
Of course, that’s not to say that using Tinder and its many competitors as a way to find hookups is bad. There are many stages in one’s life that make it difficult for someone to be able to commit, or want to commit. It’s fine to not want more than that which apps present us, and this is not to say that they cannot lead to meaningful relationships — be they short- or long-term.
But the mechanisms used by these apps: swiping and easy ghosting, among others, can make it far too easy for us to resist investing — however deeply — in an interaction with someone else. Whether it be out of fear or because it’s too hard to figure out if something can lead to a meaningful relationship, it’s normal now. And that’s problematic.
Yet people are messy, and our interactions are bound to mirror the way we’re internally organized. Tinder, Bumble, Coffee Meets Bagel — these apps and their ilk turn meeting people, whatever the intended outcome, into a game that, unlike flirting, cheapens the very encounters we’ll have as a result of using them.
Emotional work, even the kind that requires speaking to a stranger about one’s favorite novels or strong opinions on cereal, has been, and always will be, difficult. Getting to know someone, even if such efforts are only intended to lead to hooking up, is difficult. Finding a way to break things off with someone is difficult. But these are experiences that make the human adventure so enriching. Dating apps cheapen such relationships to the point that our behavior feels, and is, transactional.
