In the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, dating apps typically see a spike in new users and activity. More profiles are created, more messages sent, more swipes logged.
Dating platforms market themselves as modern technological solutions to loneliness, right at your fingertips. And yet, for many people, the day meant to celebrate romantic connection feels lonelier than ever.
This, rather than a personal failure or the reality of modern romance, is the outcome of how dating apps are designed and of the economic logic that governs them.
These digital tools aren’t simply interfaces that facilitate connection. The ease and expansiveness of online dating have commodified social bonds, eroded meaningful interactions and created a type of dating throw-away culture, encouraging a sense of disposability and distorting decision-making.
You know what would be a valuable dating app to me? I have no idea how this would work in actuality, but an app that helps me date my wife in some way. Suggestions of what to do, packaged date nights, flowers, all that shit — except for all kinds of people not just “traditional romance.” River rafting, swinging, sports bars, I mean appeal to all kinds or even people who just want to try things they don’t even know is it’s for them or not. It would be great for singles, but would still be useful after a relationship is in full bloom. But I think that’s something completely different from a dating app.
I would totally go for that! After being together for a decade, it does become quite difficult to find something novel to enjoy together.
And if they are doing their job right, they also won’t lose that many customers.