I was married to my dating app for 17 years. Now I want a divorce. Afew weeks after a recent breakup, I hesitantly opened up the App Store and started the renewal ritual of modern dating: reinstalling the apps. This was once exciting, the start of an adventure. But this time, seeing progress bars slowly load, I was filled with dread. I knew I wanted to date again β just on a version of the apps that no longer existed. Lately, nearly every conversation with single friends and strangers and those in open relationships descends into collective mourning about the abysmal state of the apps.
When I'm out at dinner, getting my hair cut, or even taping a recent podcast for work, the same complaints come back: They're expensive, exhausting, manipulative, and overrun with scams.
I feel betrayed. I've been on dating sites and apps for the past 17 years. Online dating not only allowed me to meet some of the most important people in my life but also let me learn that I could truly find love, something I long doubted was possible. When they first worked, they made it effortless, even thrilling, to find people I thought I'd never be able to find.
Now, trudging through the apps feels draining. Online dating always had its toxic side, especially for women dating men. When I share dating horror stories with my female friends, as a straight guy, there's no comparison.
Still, as fortunate as I feel with most aspects of dating, the apps I and tens of millions of us rely on to find dates increasingly leave me feeling invisible, exploited, and ripped off. When I first stumbled onto the dating white pages that were Match. I felt awkward, overly cerebral, offtrack, underperforming, out of shape β entirely undesirable.
