Why We Chase People Who Don’t Choose Us – The Psychology of Rejection sensitivity, Validation and Self-respect

An honest look at modern dating, emotional attachment, the grief of potential and why we sometimes abandon ourselves in the pursuit of being wanted.

Why do we chase?

Have you ever found yourself becoming more emotionally invested in someone precisely when they seem to be becoming less available? Have you found yourself analysing messages, checking whether someone has viewed your stories, questioning a change in their tone or wondering what you did wrong when their attention suddenly shifts?

Perhaps you’ve told yourself you’re not going to message again, only to find yourself looking for another reason to make contact. I remember being there at the start of 2026, and now I look back and like ‘WTF Kerry’ !! Perhaps you’ve replayed a date in your head, searching for clues that might explain why somebody who appeared so bloody interested has suddenly become distant and perhaps the most difficult part is that you recognise what’s happening.

You know you’re overthinking. You know you’re giving somebody more headspace than they have earned, I mean have they even earned a fraction.. Yet somehow, knowing that doesn’t immediately make the feelings disappear.

Why do we do this? Why can another person’s attention, or lack of it, have such a powerful effect on how we feel about ourselves? And why, sometimes, do we find ourselves chasing reassurance from the very situation that is making us feel insecure?

I think these are important questions, particularly in a dating culture where communication is constant, connections can begin and end within days, and social media gives us endless opportunities to monitor somebody else’s attention.

One concept that helps us explore this is rejection sensitivity. It can influence how we interpret other people’s behaviour, how quickly we become emotionally invested and how we respond when we sense that somebody might not want us in the way we want them.

But there is another part of this conversation that I think deserves just as much attention: the grief of potential. Sometimes we aren’t grieving a relationship that we’ve actually had. We’re grieving the relationship we imagined might happen and somewhere between wanting to be chosen and hoping something will develop, we can lose sight of the one person whose feelings and needs we should never be prepared to abandon: ourselves.

Understanding rejection sensitivity

Rejection sensitivity is the tendency to anxiously expect, readily perceive and react strongly to the possibility of rejection. It doesn’t necessarily mean somebody has actually rejected us. Sometimes the emotional response begins before we know what is happening.

A delayed reply, a change in someone’s communication, a cancelled plan or a perceived lack of enthusiasm can become loaded with meaning. We might interpret uncertainty as rejection, distance as disinterest or a change in behaviour as evidence that we are no longer wanted.

The emotional reaction can feel much bigger than the situation itself. We may experience anxiety, sadness, frustration, embarrassment or an overwhelming need to find out where we stand.

It’s important to understand that rejection sensitivity isn’t exclusive to any particular group of people. Most of us will experience some degree of sensitivity to rejection at different points in our lives. For some, however, the experience is much more intense and can have a significant impact on relationships, confidence and emotional wellbeing.

The term rejection sensitive dysphoria, often shortened to RSD, is frequently used in discussions about ADHD and emotional sensitivity. However, it isn’t a formal standalone clinical diagnosis, and we should be careful not to treat every experience of rejection as a medical condition.

What matters is understanding the experience itself: why certain situations affect us so deeply, what they bring to the surface and how we can respond without allowing the emotion to take control of our behaviour.

Where does rejection sensitivity come from?

There isn’t one universal explanation. Rejection sensitivity can develop through a combination of experiences, relationships, temperament and the way we learn to understand ourselves and other people.

For some people, childhood experiences may play an important role. Growing up with emotional neglect, inconsistent affection, criticism, abandonment or a lack of reassurance can influence how safe we feel in relationships later in life.

When a child experiences inconsistent care or doesn’t feel emotionally secure, they may become particularly alert to changes in other people’s behaviour. They might learn to monitor moods, anticipate disappointment or work hard to maintain connection because, at some point, connection hasn’t felt reliable.

These experiences don’t automatically mean someone will develop rejection sensitivity. Nor does experiencing rejection sensitivity mean somebody must have experienced childhood trauma. Human development is much more complicated than that.

However, it is worth considering whether some of our adult reactions are connected to feelings that began much earlier in life.

Sometimes the person in front of us isn’t the whole reason we’re hurting. Their behaviour may be touching an older feeling: not being wanted, not being important, not being enough or not being chosen and when that happens, the emotional response can feel disproportionate because we’re not necessarily responding to just one moment. We’re responding to what that moment represents to us.

The impact of ADHD and autism

Although rejection sensitivity can affect anybody, neurodivergence can add another layer of complexity for some people.

ADHD is associated with difficulties with emotional regulation for some individuals. Emotions can feel particularly intense, and it may take longer to settle after something upsetting. Uncertainty, perceived criticism and changes in interpersonal relationships can therefore become difficult to navigate.

Autistic people may also experience particular challenges around social uncertainty, interpreting ambiguous communication or making sense of changes in another person’s behaviour. This varies enormously between individuals, and it would be wrong to assume that every autistic person experiences rejection in the same way.

I think it’s important to make this distinction because rejection sensitivity is not an ADHD or autism issue alone. It is a human experience, although neurodivergence, childhood experiences and other individual circumstances can influence how it presents.

The more we understand the different factors involved, the less likely we are to judge ourselves for having an emotional response that we don’t yet fully understand.

My own experience: learning to understand rejection sensitivity

This is something I’ve had to explore personally, and I will be honest: it wasn’t something I initially understood particularly well.

Even through my own personal development and therapist-related learning, I found that I had to go away and investigate it further. I wanted to understand what rejection sensitivity actually meant, where it could come from, why it could feel so intense and, perhaps most importantly, why certain situations seemed to affect me more than others.

As somebody who has experienced childhood trauma, neglect and the absence of a father figure, I’ve had to reflect on how those early experiences may have influenced the way I experience emotional connection, distance and rejection as an adult.

I can’t say that one experience explains everything, and I don’t think we should reduce our entire emotional world to our childhood. But I do think there is value in asking ourselves whether some of the things that hurt us today connect with feelings we experienced much earlier in life.

As a neuro-divergent woman with autism and ADHD, I’ve also had to consider how my own way of processing emotions, uncertainty and relationships can add another layer to the experience.

There have been a couple of occasions in my adult life when I’ve experienced rejection sensitivity particularly intensely. What I found interesting was how much emotional energy I could give to a situation, sometimes far more than the actual relationship or circumstances warranted.

I had to start looking at the underlying reasons rather than simply criticising myself for how I felt. I wanted to understand the triggers, recognise the patterns and learn how to respond differently and I think that is where real personal growth begins. Not in pretending we don’t care, not in becoming emotionally unavailable and certainly not in convincing ourselves that we should never feel hurt. It begins with developing enough self-awareness to recognise what is happening inside us and choosing not to let every emotion dictate our next move.

The validation loop: when we start chasing reassurance

One of the most difficult patterns associated with rejection sensitivity is the need for reassurance.

Imagine meeting somebody and having a genuinely lovely experience. There’s chemistry, conversation, attraction and the feeling that something could develop. You come away feeling positive, perhaps even excited about the possibility of seeing them again.

Then something changes. Their messages become less frequent. The enthusiasm seems to dip. They don’t initiate conversation in the same way, or perhaps they are still watching your social media stories but aren’t making any real effort to communicate.

Suddenly, your attention shifts.

Instead of enjoying the possibility of getting to know someone, you’re trying to work out whether they still like you. You’re analysing the timing of messages, reading between the lines, checking online activity and looking for reassurance that the connection hasn’t disappeared.

You might find yourself wanting to contact them, not necessarily because you have something meaningful to say, but because you want to relieve the discomfort of not knowing.. and this is where we can become caught in a cycle.

We feel uncertain, so we seek reassurance. We receive a little reassurance and feel better temporarily. But if the underlying situation remains inconsistent, the uncertainty returns. We then find ourselves looking for reassurance again.

The problem is that we can become dependent on the very person whose inconsistency is triggering the insecurity.

I sometimes think of this as a form of emotional self-sabotage. We repeatedly expose ourselves to a situation that makes us feel unsettled, hoping that the next interaction will finally give us the reassurance we need, but how much of our emotional energy are we willing to spend trying to obtain certainty from somebody who isn’t offering it naturally?

And at what point do we stop asking what they think of us and start asking what their behaviour is telling us?

The grief of potential: are we attached to the person or the possibility?

This is one of the most interesting parts of modern dating, and I think it is something many people will recognise.

Sometimes we become attached to what a person represents rather than what we actually know about them.

We have a wonderful first date. We experience chemistry, laughter, affection and a sense of connection. We start imagining what might happen next. We picture future dates, weekends away, conversations and the possibility of something meaningful.

Our minds begin building a future around a person we may have only met once or twice. Then, when the connection doesn’t develop, we experience disappointment that can feel surprisingly intense.

But what exactly are we grieving?

Are we grieving the person, or are we grieving the possibility of what we thought could happen?There is a difference between losing an established relationship and losing an imagined future. Both can hurt, but they are not the same experience.

When we become emotionally invested in potential, we can end up mourning something that never really existed outside our imagination. We may miss the excitement, the anticipation, the feeling of being wanted and the future we had quietly started to picture.

This doesn’t make the feelings silly or invalid. Hope is a natural part of getting to know somebody. It’s lovely to feel excited about a new connection.

But we need to be careful not to confuse the promise of something with the reality of what is being offered.

Chemistry isn’t compatibility. Attraction isn’t emotional availability. A wonderful first date isn’t a guarantee of a relationship. And somebody’s potential isn’t the same as their willingness to build something with us.

We need to give people the time and space to show us who they are through consistent behaviour, rather than filling in the gaps with what we hope they might become.

When rejection sensitivity meets modern dating

I think modern dating has created an environment where rejection sensitivity can be particularly difficult to navigate.

Dating apps have made it easier than ever to meet people, but they have also changed the way many of us experience connection. We can move from one conversation to another, meet several people in a short period of time and feel as though there is always somebody else just a swipe away.

Social media adds another dimension. We can see when someone is online, whether they have viewed our stories and sometimes what they are doing, without having any meaningful communication with them.

This can create a strange situation where we have more access to information about somebody’s activity but not necessarily more understanding of their intentions.

A person can watch every story and still make no effort to arrange a date. They can send a message one evening and disappear for several days. They can show enthusiasm in person but struggle to communicate consistently afterwards and because so much of modern dating takes place through a screen, we can find ourselves trying to interpret tiny pieces of information that may not tell us very much at all.

A viewed story isn’t a declaration of interest. An online status isn’t an invitation. A delayed reply doesn’t automatically mean rejection.

But when we’re already feeling emotionally vulnerable, these small details can become the focus of an enormous amount of mental energy.

I don’t think dating apps are inherently bad, nor do I think everyone who communicates inconsistently is deliberately trying to hurt somebody. People have different expectations, circumstances and levels of emotional availability.

However, I do think we need to recognise how an environment of constant access, ambiguity and perceived choice can make it harder to feel secure when we’re getting to know someone.

We can become so busy trying to work out where we stand with another person that we forget to ask whether we actually like how the situation is making us feel.

Why are we in such a rush?

I think this is a question worth asking.

Why do we feel the need to establish where something is going almost immediately? Why do we sometimes become so invested in a connection before we’ve had enough time to understand whether the other person is right for us?

There is nothing wrong with wanting a relationship. There is nothing wrong with being intentional about dating or knowing what you want, But there is a difference between being open to a relationship and trying to force one to develop before it has had the opportunity to grow naturally.

When we rush emotionally, we can become attached to an outcome rather than paying attention to the experience itself.

We start looking for signs that somebody likes us instead of asking whether their behaviour demonstrates the qualities we want in a partner. We focus on whether we’re being chosen rather than considering whether we would actually choose them and perhaps this is where we need to change our perspective.

If somebody wants to speak to you, allow them the opportunity to speak to you. If they want to arrange another date, let them show that through their actions. If they want you to be part of their life, there should be some natural movement towards that.

This isn’t about playing games, withholding affection or pretending to be less interested than we are. It’s about allowing a connection to be mutual.

You don’t need to carry the entire conversation, organise every meeting, initiate every interaction or continually remind somebody that you exist.

Let people meet you halfway.

And if they don’t, you have information that can help you decide whether this is something you want to continue investing in.

Self-respect: Stop abandoning yourself to be chosen

This is probably the most important part of the whole conversation for me.

Self-respect isn’t about being cold, arrogant or emotionally unavailable. It doesn’t mean pretending you don’t care when you do. It doesn’t mean refusing to message first or turning dating into a competition about who can appear least interested.

It means understanding that your worth doesn’t increase when somebody wants you, and it doesn’t decrease when somebody doesn’t.

It means being able to enjoy another person’s company without making their attention the measure of your happiness.

It means recognising when you’re starting to compromise your own emotional wellbeing in order to keep a connection alive.

It means being prepared to walk away from something that isn’t meeting your needs, even when you had hoped it might become something special.

I think many of us have, at some point, found ourselves trying to become more appealing, more accommodating or more available because we are worried that somebody might lose interest.

We might overlook behaviour that makes us uncomfortable, minimise our own expectations or convince ourselves that if we are just patient enough, understanding enough or attractive enough, things will eventually change.

But a healthy connection shouldn’t require us to continually negotiate our own worth.

We can be understanding of somebody else’s circumstances without making ourselves responsible for their emotional availability. We can recognise that somebody may be busy, healing or working through their own experiences without waiting indefinitely for them to decide whether they want us and we can be disappointed when something doesn’t work out without turning that disappointment into a judgement about ourselves.

How do we begin to break the cycle?

The first step is awareness. We cannot change a pattern we haven’t recognised, and we cannot make healthier decisions if we don’t understand what is driving our behaviour.

When you notice yourself becoming preoccupied with somebody’s attention, try to pause before reacting. Ask yourself whether you’re responding to something that has actually happened or to something you’re afraid might happen.

There is a difference between facts and interpretations. The fact might be that somebody hasn’t replied today. The interpretation might be that they’ve lost interest, met somebody else or decided you’re not good enough. Those interpretations may feel convincing, but they are not necessarily true.

Give yourself permission to sit with uncertainty rather than immediately trying to eliminate it.

Try to maintain your own life while getting to know somebody. Keep seeing your friends, pursuing your interests, working towards your goals and enjoying the things that make you feel like yourself. A new connection should add something to your life, not become the entire focus of it.

Be mindful of repeatedly checking social media, monitoring online activity or seeking reassurance when you feel anxious. These behaviours may offer temporary relief, but they can also keep your attention fixed on the uncertainty.

Most importantly, pay attention to how somebody behaves over time. Look for consistency, communication, respect and genuine effort. You don’t need to make excuses for someone, but you also don’t need to jump to conclusions based on one delayed message and if rejection sensitivity is causing significant distress or affecting your relationships and everyday life, speaking to a suitably qualified mental health professional can help you explore the underlying patterns and develop strategies that work for you.

The aim isn’t to stop caring. It’s to learn how to care without losing yourself.

Learning not to let feelings dictate behaviour

One of the biggest changes I’ve noticed in my own thinking is that I no longer believe every feeling needs an immediate response.

I can meet somebody, enjoy their company, feel attracted to them and genuinely hope that something develops. I can be excited about the possibility of seeing them again.

However, I can also recognise that if they don’t want the same thing, that is okay. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t interesting enough, attractive enough or good enough. It doesn’t mean I’ve missed my only opportunity for happiness. It simply means that this particular connection may not be right, mutual or available.

Of course, that doesn’t mean rejection never hurts. I’m human. I can still feel disappointed, and I can still have moments when I wish something had worked out differently. The difference is that I don’t have to allow those feelings to dictate my behaviour.

I don’t have to chase somebody to prove that I’m worth choosing. I don’t have to keep looking for reassurance from someone who isn’t offering it. And I don’t have to turn somebody else’s lack of interest into a personal failure.

There will always be other people to meet, other experiences to have and other opportunities for connection.

That isn’t arrogance. It isn’t pretending that people are disposable. It’s understanding that one person’s decision doesn’t define my value.

And I think there is a real freedom in reaching that point.

Stop grieving the future and start looking at the present

Perhaps one of the most important things we can learn in dating is to stop falling in love with what something could become before we’ve had the chance to understand what it actually is.

We need to give people the opportunity to show us who they are, rather than becoming attached to the version of them we’ve created in our minds.

We need to recognise that attraction is only one part of compatibility, that chemistry doesn’t guarantee emotional availability and that potential means very little without consistent action.

We also need to be kinder to ourselves. If rejection affects us deeply, there is usually something worth understanding beneath that feeling. We don’t need to shame ourselves for being sensitive, wanting connection or hoping to be loved.

However, we do need to take responsibility for how we respond.

We can acknowledge our past without allowing it to determine our future. We can recognise our triggers without allowing them to control our decisions. We can want somebody without needing them to want us back in order to feel whole.

And perhaps the question we should ask ourselves when we find ourselves chasing somebody’s attention isn’t simply, “Do they like me?”

Perhaps it’s:

“Why am I chasing something that doesn’t appear to be choosing me?”

Because the goal isn’t to become somebody who never feels rejection. It’s to become somebody who understands that rejection is not a measure of their worth.

You can be open-hearted without being endlessly available. You can be interested without becoming invested too quickly. You can hope for something beautiful without abandoning yourself in the process.

And you can walk away from a connection you wanted, knowing that you are still worthy of the connection you deserve. I learned a hard lesson in January 2026, and its one that’s helped me evolve so deeply and emotionally, take every situation you face as growth..

Don’t lose yourself trying to be chosen by somebody else. Choose yourself first.

Are We Dating to Find Love, or Addicted to the Search?

The psychology of dating apps, the business of loneliness and why modern romance might be in trouble.

When did finding love become an endless shopping experience?

We live in a time when we have more opportunities than ever to meet people. With a few taps on a phone, we can access hundreds, sometimes thousands, of potential romantic partners. We can browse profiles, swipe through photographs, exchange messages and arrange dates without ever having to leave the comfort of our homes.

On paper, this should be the golden age of romance. Yet something rather peculiar seems to be happening.

People are increasingly talking about dating fatigue, emotional exhaustion, ghosting, situationships and the difficulty of finding someone who genuinely wants a relationship. We have an extraordinary amount of choice, but are we actually becoming any better at choosing?

And perhaps a more uncomfortable question: Are dating apps designed to help us find love, or have we become the product of an industry that makes money from our continued search for it?

The business model behind looking for love

I recently had a conversation with somebody who works in analytics and algorithms. They raised an interesting point about the economics of dating platforms. Their argument was that a relatively small proportion of men receive a disproportionate amount of attention, while a much larger proportion experience considerably less success. Those who receive fewer matches may consequently spend more time on the platforms, purchase subscriptions, pay for boosts and invest money in trying to improve their visibility.

It got me thinking.

There is a popular theory circulating online known as the 80/20 rule of dating apps. It suggests that a small proportion of men receive the majority of female attention.

You will also hear variations of this as the 90/10 rule.

However, it is important to distinguish internet theories from established research. There is no reliable universal statistic proving that 10% of men receive 90% of all matches across dating apps.

What we do have is some interesting evidence.

A 2016 academic study, A First Look at User Activity on Tinder, conducted by researchers including Gareth Tyson at Queen Mary University of London, examined almost half a million Tinder users using a combination of controlled profiles and survey research.

The researchers identified significant differences in how men and women interacted with the platform. Women tended to be more selective, while men tended to swipe right on a much larger proportion of profiles.

This created what the researchers described as a feedback loop: men became less selective in the hope of securing matches, while women became increasingly selective because their likes were more likely to result in matches.

The result was an unequal experience of the same platform.

This doesn’t prove that a fixed percentage of men monopolise all the attention. But it does demonstrate that dating apps can create very different experiences for different groups of users.

Oh and the commercial implications are interesting.

If somebody is repeatedly unsuccessful, they may be more inclined to keep trying. They might purchase premium membership, pay to see who has liked them, increase their profile visibility or buy additional features.

Meanwhile, somebody receiving hundreds of likes may find themselves overwhelmed by choice and struggle to establish meaningful connections. Two very different experiences. Potentially the same commercial outcome: continued engagement, addiction and lack of love.

The psychology of the swipe

So why are these apps so difficult to put down? Part of the answer lies in behavioural psychology.

Dating apps use a mechanism that has a lot in common with variable reward systems.

Think about a slot machine. You don’t know when the next reward is coming. Sometimes you get nothing. Sometimes you get a small reward. Occasionally, you get something that feels particularly exciting.

The uncertainty is part of what makes the experience compelling. A dating app can operate in a similar psychological environment.

You swipe through several profiles. Nothing particularly interesting happens. Then suddenly, a match appears.

Someone attractive. Someone interesting. Someone who looks as though they might tick every box.

There is a little rush of excitement. Perhaps a notification, a message or a compliment.

You begin imagining the possibilities, but then the interaction might fade, the person might stop replying, or the date might never materialise.

And so you return to the app….Perhaps the next swipe will be different.

This is not to say that every dating app user is addicted or that every notification produces a predictable dopamine response. Human behaviour is much more complicated than that.

But intermittent rewards, anticipation, novelty and uncertainty are well-established psychological mechanisms that can reinforce repeated behaviour.

The interesting thing is that the reward isn’t necessarily the relationship itself.

Sometimes, it is simply the possibility of one.

The addiction to the new crush

I think this is one of the most fascinating aspects of modern dating.

Why do we become so excited about somebody we barely know?

A new match can generate an extraordinary amount of anticipation. You exchange messages, learn little details about each other, start imagining what meeting might be like and perhaps begin to picture a future.

There is an element of fantasy involved.

Because when we first meet somebody, we don’t know them particularly well. We are often responding to the potential of who they might be, rather than the reality of who they are.

The early stages of attraction are exciting precisely because there is so much we don’t know. Every message can feel significant. Every compliment can reinforce our interest. Every little sign of attention can make us want more.

Psychologically, anticipation can sometimes be more exciting than the eventual reward and this creates an interesting problem.

Once we have actually met somebody, the mystery begins to disappear. We move from imagining a person to getting to know an actual human being.

Real relationships require patience, communication, compromise and consistency. They also involve ordinary moments that aren’t particularly exciting, but if we become accustomed to the constant stimulation of new profiles, new matches and new conversations, could the ordinary process of getting to know somebody start to feel less exciting by comparison?

Are we becoming better at starting connections but worse at allowing them to develop?

Why are we still swiping after a brilliant date?

Imagine this.

You meet somebody. The date is wonderful. You laugh, there’s chemistry, the conversation flows and you feel genuinely attracted to each other.

You go home feeling happy.

There is every possibility that this could develop into something meaningful… maybe?

Yet the following morning, while lying in bed, you open your dating app again.

Why?

Perhaps you’re not entirely convinced that the person is right for you.

Perhaps you’re worried about becoming too invested too quickly.

Perhaps you simply want to know that other options are still available.

Or perhaps the app has conditioned you to believe that there is always somebody else around the corner.

This is where the psychology of choice becomes particularly interesting.

When we believe there are endless alternatives available, committing to one possibility can feel like closing the door on hundreds of others.

What if the next person is more attractive? More successful? Funnier? More compatible? What if somebody even better is only three swipes away?

This is sometimes referred to as the paradox of choice.

More options can create more opportunities, but they can also make decisions harder and increase the fear of missing out.

Research published in 2025 by Marina Thomas, Alice Binder and Jörg Matthes examined how the number of profiles people evaluate affects their decision-making. Their experiment involved 401 participants.

Those who evaluated more profiles were less likely to accept a potential partner than those presented with fewer profiles. Greater numbers of profiles also increased feelings of choice overload.

The study also found that the way people made decisions mattered. More intuitive, rapid decision-making was associated with less favourable self-evaluations.

Think about what that means.

The more people we browse, the more difficult it may become to feel satisfied with any individual choice.

Perhaps the problem isn’t that we haven’t found somebody good enough.

Perhaps we’ve become accustomed to looking for somebody better.

The evidence: Are dating apps making us unhappy?

There is growing academic interest in the psychological effects of dating app use.

A 2023 research paper published in Telematics and Informatics, titled 99+ Matches but a Spark Ain’t One, examined the adverse psychological effects associated with excessive swiping.

The researchers identified links between excessive swiping and:

  • Upward social comparison.
  • Fear of being single.
  • Partner choice overload.

The study also found that excessive swiping helped explain the relationship between frequent dating app use and these negative psychological experiences.

In other words, simply having access to dating apps isn’t necessarily the whole issue. How much we use them, and how we interact with them, matters.

A further systematic review and meta-analysis published in Communications Psychology in 2026 examined 27 studies involving 21,263 participants.

It found small-to-moderate associations between dating app use and emotional distress, appearance concerns, body image disturbance, behavioural dysregulation and interpersonal sensitivity. The strongest associations were found in behavioural dysregulation and body-related outcomes.

Importantly, the researchers also highlighted that these findings do not establish that dating apps cause these problems. Individual circumstances, pre-existing vulnerabilities and social context all matter.

Nevertheless, it raises an important question about the psychological environment in which modern dating now takes place.

When your romantic prospects are presented as a continuous stream of photographs, profiles and first impressions, it is easy to start evaluating yourself in the same way.

Am I attractive enough? Am I getting enough matches? Why hasn’t that person replied? Why have they viewed my profile but not messaged?

Something that began as an attempt to find companionship can gradually become another source of comparison and self-doubt.

The legal challenges: Are dating apps being held accountable?

Interestingly, concerns about the business practices and psychological effects of dating platforms have moved beyond online discussions.

There have been actual legal challenges.

1. The Match Group addiction lawsuit – 2024

In February 2024, nine users filed a proposed class action in the United States against Match Group, the company behind Tinder, Hinge and The League.

The plaintiffs alleged that the platforms were deliberately designed to encourage compulsive use, using features that kept users engaged and encouraged them to purchase increasingly expensive subscriptions.

Their argument was that the companies’ commercial interests were in conflict with users’ stated objective of finding lasting relationships.

In December 2024, a federal judge ruled that the claims had to proceed through individual arbitration rather than as a federal class action, relying on arbitration provisions in the companies’ user agreements.

This was a procedural decision. It was not a finding that the addiction allegations were proven.

Match Group disputed the allegations.

Nevertheless, the case brought an important question into the legal arena: should technology companies be held accountable if the design of their products encourages patterns of behaviour that users struggle to control?

2. The Federal Trade Commission versus Match Group

Another significant case involved the United States Federal Trade Commission.

In 2019, the FTC sued Match Group over allegations concerning deceptive advertising, billing and subscription practices on Match.com.

Among the allegations was that the platform used potentially fraudulent or fake romantic interest notifications to encourage non-paying users to subscribe.

In September 2025, Match Group agreed to pay $14 million to resolve the FTC’s charges.

The agreement also required changes to its advertising representations, account practices and cancellation processes.

This case was not a court finding that the company had deliberately engineered romantic addiction. It was a consumer protection case concerning commercial practices.

But it does demonstrate that the way dating platforms make money, market their services and treat paying customers is a legitimate area of regulatory scrutiny.

3. The wider question of accountability

These cases raise a much bigger issue.

Social media platforms have faced increasing scrutiny over engagement-driven design, and dating apps are beginning to attract similar questions.

Should a company whose customers are seeking romantic relationships be judged purely on how many people use its platform, how long they stay or how much they spend?

Or should we also be asking whether its business model genuinely supports the outcome those customers are paying for?

There is a fundamental difference between a business that helps you find something and one that makes money from you continuing to look for it.

That distinction deserves closer examination.

The numbers behind modern dating

Let’s look at the UK picture.

According to Ofcom’s 2024 Online Nation research, approximately 4.9 million UK adults used an online dating service during the year.

In May 2024:

  • Tinder reached approximately 1.9 million UK adults.
  • Hinge reached approximately 1.4 million.
  • Bumble reached approximately 1.1 million.
  • Men accounted for 65% of adult visitors to online dating services overall.
  • Women accounted for 35%.

Interestingly, Hinge was the only one of the top ten services where women outnumbered men, accounting for 53% of its adult visitors.

Ofcom also reported that nearly two million adults visited dating services on Valentine’s Day 2024, spending an average of 19 minutes looking for love online that day.

These figures tell us something important.

Dating apps are not a small niche industry. They have become a substantial part of how people meet, interact and pursue relationships.

And yet, more access to potential partners doesn’t automatically translate into more meaningful relationships.

Are we creating a culture of disposable relationships?

Perhaps one of the biggest cultural changes is the way we perceive potential partners. When we meet someone in everyday life, we tend to encounter them as a whole person. We might meet through friends, work, church, social activities or a shared interest.

Attraction develops through conversation, familiarity, humour, shared experiences and the little things that make somebody interesting.

Dating apps change that starting point.

We are presented with a profile. A photograph. An age. A location. A short description. Before we’ve even spoken, we have often made a decision about whether somebody is worth our time and if we don’t immediately feel excited, we can simply move on.

There is always another profile waiting.

Could this be encouraging a more disposable attitude towards people?

Are we becoming less tolerant of imperfections because we believe there is an endless supply of alternatives?

Do we abandon connections at the first sign of uncertainty because we have become accustomed to instant gratification?

And what happens when two people who might actually be compatible never give themselves the opportunity to find out?

Of course, not every relationship deserves a second chance. Nobody should feel obliged to pursue someone they aren’t interested in.

But there is a difference between recognising genuine incompatibility and constantly searching for an imaginary perfect person.

Real people are not profiles. They have difficult days, insecurities, responsibilities, histories and imperfections.

The challenge of a relationship is learning whether two real people can build something together.

That requires a little more than a swipe.

Are we heading towards a lonelier society?

It would be unfair to blame dating apps for loneliness.

Loneliness is influenced by many factors, including social isolation, changing family structures, work patterns, financial pressures and the decline of some traditional community connections.

But it is worth looking at the wider picture.

The UK Government’s Community Life Survey for 2024/25 reported that approximately 6.6% of adults in England felt lonely often or always.

Among adults aged 16–24, that figure was 9%.

For those aged 25–34, it was 8%.

These statistics don’t tell us that dating apps are responsible. They do, however, remind us that loneliness remains a significant social issue and there is an interesting contradiction here.

We can have hundreds of conversations in our phones and still feel disconnected.

We can receive constant notifications and still feel unwanted.

We can have multiple matches and still struggle to find somebody who genuinely wants to spend time with us.

Digital access to people is not the same thing as emotional intimacy.

Perhaps we have become very good at making contact but less confident about building connection.

So how do we change the way we date?

I don’t believe the answer is necessarily to delete every dating app or return to a world where people can only meet through friends.

Dating apps can be wonderful. They have introduced people who might otherwise never have crossed paths. They can be particularly valuable for people with busy lives, those who have moved to new areas and those who find approaching strangers difficult.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with using technology to meet someone.

The question is whether we are using it intentionally. Perhaps we need to rethink some of our habits.

What if, after a genuinely enjoyable date, we allowed ourselves to enjoy the experience rather than immediately returning to the search?

What if we gave somebody the opportunity to show us who they are over a few meetings, rather than deciding whether they are our future partner after two hours?

What if we stopped treating every interaction as an opportunity to assess whether somebody is better than the last person? And what if we became a little more comfortable with the idea that choosing one person means temporarily putting other possibilities aside?

That isn’t settling. It’s recognising that meaningful relationships are built through attention, consistency and time.

You cannot cultivate something while constantly digging it up to see whether something better might be growing elsewhere.

The question we should all be asking

Perhaps the most important question isn’t whether dating apps are ruining relationships.

It’s whether we have allowed the culture of endless choice to change what we expect from relationships in the first place.

We want excitement, but also stability.

We want somebody emotionally available, but sometimes struggle to make ourselves available.

We want to be someone’s first choice, while keeping our own options open.

We want meaningful connection, but can become impatient with the ordinary process of getting to know another human being and perhaps the biggest irony of all is that the very technology designed to bring us closer together can sometimes leave us feeling that nobody is quite enough.

There is a difference between being open to meeting somebody and being permanently available to the possibility of somebody better.

Maybe we need to rediscover the ability to pause…

To enjoy a date.

To be curious about a person rather than their next potential replacement.

To recognise that chemistry is a beginning, not a finished relationship, and that something meaningful needs room to grow… or at least enjoy…

Because if we spend all our time searching for the next exciting possibility, we might eventually overlook the person sitting right in front of us.

Perhaps we don’t have a shortage of potential partners. Perhaps we have a shortage of people willing to put down their phones long enough to discover one another… rather than seeking constant validation.

And that is a much bigger problem than dating apps alone