Love me Tinder

Over the past few years I have encouraged many single friends to join dating apps. In some cases, I also took care of the selection of profile photos, in others, I gave advice on how to break the ice in the first shy and awkward exchange of messages. I like to think I have contributed at least in part to the fulfilment of their dreams of love. Yet, I myself resisted for a long time before I decided to experiment firsthand: my romantic side refused to entrust the search for Prince Charming to the cold algorithm of a software.

I made my debut on Tinder in January 2021, shortly after learning from Rebecca Traister's book All the Single Ladies, that we live in the “least coupled” period of history ever and that, as good as it is to be single by choice, many are single because there is no one around anymore.

Called “Millennials”, today's 30-40 year olds have been living together or married for years. Most of their friends, or friends of friends, are also more or less happily coupled. This makes it statistically very difficult for people my age to meet interesting singles in their circle. Moreover, frequent lockdowns had almost completely desertified my social interactions and meeting new people seemed like an almost impossible mission.

Like millions of other digital daters, I have also experienced the stress of the first dates, met people I never would have met in the 1.0 world and had bitter disappointments by meeting people that were very different from their profile photos. Almost immediately I realized that getting involved online requires commitment and courage: making myself vaguely attractive after months of hanging around in sweatpants seemed like a titanic task and I was terrified of sustaining a lively conversation with a complete stranger. However, over time I have perfected the sophisticated art of messaging and learned to end a conversation at the first vaguely racist or misogynist sentence without pretending to redeem my interlocutor. In other words, I was improving.

Virtual preliminaries

The first advertisement for lonely hearts dates back to the end of the 17^th century and in 1965 some Harvard students launched “Operation Match”, the first online dating service in the United States.

Twenty years ago there were only a few paid apps and the very few subscribers rarely admitted to using them. But in a decade, users have increased exponentially, basic services have become free and premium subscriptions have sprung up. With the widespread diffusion of smartphones, the social stigma has almost completely disappeared to the point that even for the younger people, this has become only one of the possibilities of finding a partner: Generation Z (18-25 years) constitutes more than 50% of the total subscribers. The pandemic has put a new spin: digital daters are now seeking more stable and lasting relationships and want to get to know the other person via video calls and “online aperitifs” before meeting them in person.

Cupid’s algorithm

Once, the queen of slow dating, offers 24 hours to decide whether to meet the person proposed on a daily basis according to a complex mathematical calculation. Meetic, the most popular in Italy, has a virtual assistant to set all the parametres correctly. Available in 190 countries and more than 40 languages, Tinder, rewards the most active users and allows you to choose between 29 genders and 9 sexual oreintations. OkCupid is aimed at those looking for stable relationships and asks at least 15 questions, also asking for the potential partner’s response preference. For the most fatalistic, there is Happn which, thanks to GPS, shows the people registered on the platform among those met during the day. Muslim singles resort to Muslima, which has been a leading Muslim wedding site since 2016 with a database of over 7.5 million users. Fitness lovers use Teamup, vegans use Veggly, videogamers use Kippo while on Loosid the watchword is “sobriety”. The Inner Circle has filters to establish connections based on common interests and values and is accessed by invitation while the more enterprising women use Bumble, where they have 24 hours to make the first move.

The virtual world is opening new horizons for the female audience, increasingly freed from the old stereotypical roles of love courtship. A research by Tinder reveals that 66% of Italian Gen Z girls feel free to choose who they interact with and 60% to share what represents them. When asked what they seek in a potential match, 50% of respondents replied “talking to someone who makes them feel free to be themselves without worrying about the judgment of others”, “subverting any social conventions” (51%), “living in the moment without pre-established rules”(45%) and “exposing one’s body” (30%). The word most used in their profiles is “strong”, followed by “feminist”, “dreamer”, “ambitious” and “activist” and among their resolutions for 2022, many have indicated that they want to love themselves as they are.

As for me, I will not stop dreaming of a romantic encounter in a small neighborhood bar, in front of the cinema on a rainy Sunday or in the library, perhaps in front of the same book. In the meantime, I continue to navigate between more or less pleasant encounters, trying not to lose my path.

Keywords 

The pandemic has also changed the content and duration of conversations. In February 2021, chats on Tinder were 19% longer than the previous year and younger people update their profile very often with increasingly precise and personal information.

During the first wave of COVID, the term “anxiety” was included in biographies 31% times more than in previous months and in April 2021, the fourth most used word on Tinder by Italian users between 18 and 26 was “Greenpass”. According to a survey conducted by YPulse over the same period, 17% of daters addressed the issue of health safety before meeting, and on the OKCupid website, the word “vaccinated” had increased by 680% compared to previous months.

The world of virtual love has also created a new, mostly Anglophile metalanguage.

Kondo-ing, deriving from the name of the famous Japanese tidying guru Marie Kondo, suggests eliminating the match without explanation when you find that you have no interest. Ghosting literally means disappearing and is often alternated with zoombing, that is, reappearing after weeks of silence. The most desperate do breadcrumbing, clinging to the crumbs of attention granted by an unavailable partner and often experience benching, being put “on hold”.

Boom or boomerang?

According to Time2play, 67% of Italians still do not use dating apps because they prefer to meet people in person (43%), do not trust (24%) or fear nasty surprises (7%). 32.6% of respondents are registered but only 21% have found love online. The fluid approach of the open couple seems to be the most popular. Many users are already in a stable relationship, and some are dating two or three people at the same time: 55.5% are women.

“Bonds have been replaced by connections,” writes Zygmunt Bauman. “While bonding takes commitment, connecting and disconnecting is child's play. On Facebook (or Tinder, ndr) you can have hundreds of friends by moving a finger. Making friends offline is more complicated. What you gain in quantity you lose in quality. What you gain in ease (mistaken for freedom), you lose in security.”

As for me, I will not stop dreaming of a romantic encounter in a small neighborhood bar, in front of the cinema on a rainy Sunday or in the library, perhaps in front of the same book. In the meantime, I continue to navigate between more or less pleasant encounters, trying not to lose my path.

Click here to read the original Italian version of the article.