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
