So Many Faces, So Many Lives I Could Be Part Of
Read on Substack · 2025-03-16
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Dating Apps: The Strangest Game I Keep Playing
The first time I downloaded Hinge, I felt like I had unlocked some kind of VIP backroom of modern dating. A place where single people—real ones, with real lives—were neatly presented for me to browse, like a very curated supermarket aisle.
And it was fun! At first. Like a new video game where the tutorial is exciting and the rewards come easy. The possibility felt endless, like at any moment, something meaningful could happen.
But the thing about any game is… eventually, you get good enough at it that it becomes predictable.
After a while, you start seeing patterns.
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The same types of profiles, cycling through over and over.
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The same opening lines, the same small talk, the same how’s your day been?
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The weird sensation that you’re playing a game where the rules are invisible, but you somehow already know the outcome.
At some point, you’re not really meeting people anymore. You’re just running the same dating app speedrun, hoping for a different outcome.
You don’t even realize when it stops being exciting. You just look up one day and realize it’s been weeks since you had a conversation that didn’t feel like déjà vu.
It’s Not Even About Dating Anymore
I used to think I was on these apps to find someone. That was the point, right? But now, I’m not so sure. Because sometimes, I open Hinge and just swipe for no reason.
Not to find a date.
Not because I’m lonely.
Not even because I want to.
Just because it’s there.
Like scrolling Instagram when you don’t even care about what you’re looking at. Like opening the fridge and staring at it even though you know there’s nothing new inside. Like refreshing your email just to feel something.
It’s almost instinctual now. Muscle memory.
I’ll be waiting for something—food to arrive, an elevator, my Uber—and suddenly, I’ve opened Hinge without realizing it.
Not to message someone. Not to set up a date. Just to... look.
At some point, dating apps stopped feeling like a way to meet people and started feeling like… a slot machine.
You swipe.
You match (or you don’t).
You start a conversation (or you don’t).
You lose interest.
Then you come back later, forgetting that this exact sequence has played out 100 times before.
It’s a loop. Not because it’s exciting, but because it’s familiar.
A Love Story Written by an Algorithm
Here’s something I can’t stop thinking about: Dating apps don’t show you what you like.
They show you what other people have liked.
If a profile gets more right swipes, the algorithm boosts it. If it doesn’t, it fades into obscurity. This means the app is not matching you with the best people for you. It’s matching you with the best people for the average user.
Which is why, over time, everyone starts looking the same.
The same gym mirror selfies.
The same “fluent in sarcasm” bios.
The same “will beat you at Mario Kart” lines.
The same jokes, the same prompts, the same everything.
Not because people aren’t unique. But because the algorithm decides what should be seen the most—and we all adjust to that without realizing it.
Attraction on these apps starts feeling less personal over time. You’re not choosing based on something instinctive anymore. You’re choosing based on what feels familiar.
And after a while, you start having this weird, silent thought:
"I guess I should like this person, right?"
"They fit the type of person I’m supposed to be into."
But... supposed to be into according to who?
That’s when it hits you—you aren’t swiping on your own taste anymore. You’re swiping on a pre-approved version of attractiveness, shaped by what has already worked for the masses.
You’re not even forming preferences—just reacting to patterns.
And since the app optimizes for speed, attraction starts feeling like something you should know instantly.
Like if you hesitate, that’s already a no.
Like a fraction of a second is all it should take to decide.
Like depth doesn’t even belong here.
I’m deciding on someone faster than I decide what coffee I get at a cafe.
And here’s the messed-up part: the faster you swipe, the more you start believing that’s how attraction is supposed to work.
So what happens when you don’t immediately feel drawn to someone?
You start thinking:
"Am I just too picky?"
"Do I have unrealistic expectations?"
Or worse—“Does my type not even exist here?"
Meanwhile, you keep swiping.
Not because you’re looking for someone specific, but because you don’t even know what “your type” is anymore.
Everything is a blur, but you convince yourself that if you just keep going, something will click. But how are you supposed to "find your person" when you’re barely even deciding for yourself anymore?
So, What Now?
I don’t know.
I mean, I could say “we should all just delete these apps,” but let’s be honest—I’m probably gonna check Hinge later. Not because I expect to meet someone, but because I’ve been conditioned to open it when I’m bored.
So maybe I just stop expecting it to be something it’s not. Maybe I stop trying to win a game that isn’t even designed for me to win. Maybe I stop hoping that the next person will be the one that breaks the cycle.
Or maybe I’ll just open the app again, see another “let’s split a bottle of wine” prompt, roll my eyes, and keep swiping.
Honestly? Probably that.
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