frankie

Unhinged

Dating apps suck, according to a new wave of frustrated young folks. Cait emma burke is one such romantic who has decided to break up with the apps in favour of real-life connection.

I'm 20 years old, cripplingly hungover and curled up on the couch in my disastrously mould-prone Wellington sharehouse. Like every other anxiety-filled Sunday, I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm contemplating whether I'll ever find a boyfriend in this godforsaken city - spoiler alert, I won't - when my housemate bursts into the lounge room.

Wordlessly, she thrusts her phone screen towards me, awaiting my reaction. As my eyes dart across the screen, taking in the bold orange text, my sleep-deprived (and probably alcoholically poisoned) body is filled with sudden adrenaline: Tinder, the buzzy American dating app, has finally launched in New Zealand.

Like most single people who came of age as dating apps entered the world, I initially had mixed feelings about using an 'app' to find people to date. Culturally, we'd just spent years viewing dating websites like Match and OkCupid as something only desperate, incredibly lonely people resorted to in a last- ditch effort to find love. But our reservations were short-lived - when Tinder launched in 2011, we quickly became digital dating converts.

Tinder was an app that felt geared towards millennials, thanks to its social media-style interface and carefully (or in some cases, not so carefully) curated 'profiles'. The gamified process of swiping until you get a match - and the associated dopamine kick - proved incredibly addictive, and my friends and I whiled away hours sitting side by side, swiping, laughing, comparing. despairing and, occasionally, ogling.

Over the next decade, I'd experience the way these apps benefited single people. Dates, sex and - if you were lucky - romance and partnership were suddenly only a few swipes and DMs away. But as the decade wore on, the myriad ways these apps were permanently altering the way we date and connect came into sharp focus for me. I was brutally ghosted on multiple occasions and had numerous interactions with toxic, obnoxious men who'd become entitled thanks to the easy gratification these apps provided, and had started viewing women as disposable.

I worried we were forgetting how to flirt and romance each other, and how to identify the non-verbal cues that signify interest and attraction. More than anything, though, by the time I was in my late 20s, the apps just started feeling bad. It felt bad to use them, bad to try and curate a profile that captured my indefinable je ne sais quoi, bad to try and initiate conversation with a total stranger based on their poorly worded prompt, and bad to spend hours a night swiping until I practically had RSI. I wanted to throw my phone away and never match with anyone again, but I also wanted a partner. It was a catch-22.

"i eventually started contemplating dating again, and quickly realised that if i wanted to meet my love interests offline, i had to fully immerse myself on a night out, or at a café, or while browsing my local bookstore."

BREAKING UP WITH THE APPS Entering my 30s with more than a decade of app-based dating under my belt, I realised I was burnt out. One overcast morning, I unceremoniously deleted them all. I spent the next five months processing a painful heartbreak that had happened earlier that year, and being celibate. It felt - still feels - incredibly calming to not be on the apps and to take a proper break from dating. I've had time to get clear on what I'm looking for from the next person I date seriously - something I wouldn't have been able to do if I were pouring my energy into swiping through endless app profiles.

I eventually started contemplating dating again, and quickly realised that if I wanted to meet my love interests offline, I had to fully immerse myself on a night out, or at a café, or while browsing my local bookstore. I had to be on my phone less and be open and willing to talk to a stranger or look at someone just a little bit too long, or introduce myself to a cute guy at my friend's birthday. It was scary, but I found it was like a muscle; the more I struck up conversation or flirted with someone I barely knew, the easier it became.

Surprisingly, without the fallback of the apps, I was emboldened - I started meeting people organically most weekends. I'm now much more present on a night out, and that energy seems to draw people towards me more. I can't go home and swipe until I find someone who appeals to me, so I keep myself open to the possibility of meeting someone intriguing at the pub or on a packed dancefloor. And the more I've talked to people around me, the more I've realised I'm far from alone in my decision to break up with app-based dating.

Sara*, one of a handful of people I spoke to who no longer use dating apps, feels they bring out her judgmental side. "I sit there searching for what's wrong with someone's profile and then hate myself for it afterwards. I know that if I met half of the people I don't like on the apps in person, we would have a great time and I wouldn't pick out a flaw in them. But, when it's just an online profile, I'll find something to dislike immediately," she says. I resonate deeply with Sara; I know for certain that each of the men I've gone on dates with since going app-free would have, unthinkingly, been swiped into oblivion were I to come across them as a static dating profile.

Others told me they felt dating apps were "cruel", "demoralising" and "dehumanising" and that they made them feel even worse about being single. Charlotte* tells me the gamified aspect of the apps is what triggered her decision to give them up. "They were starting to feel like just another social media app to get stuck doomscrolling in. Some of my closest friends met their partners on apps in their heyday; but now, it just feels like they're a numbers game and you hear about how you need to 'game the system' in order to 'find' people, which is a horrible and slightly depressing way to try and meet people."

These perspectives aren't unique - worldwide, users are leaving apps like Bumble, Tinder and Hinge in droves, and youth research agency Savanta reports that more than 90 per cent of Gen Z feel frustrated by dating apps. Laura Miano, a sexologist and the co-founder of sexual wellness brand Posmo, encounters many clients who are struggling with app-based dating. "Apps are particularly challenging because of the sheer access people have to finding other options, meaning there may be less commitment to the dating process and less problem-solving as issues arise," she says. "Why put in too much effort when you have five other matches you haven't met yet? For those looking for a long-term and serious relationship, it can be a hard landscape to navigate.”

Caroline Weinstein, a clinical psychologist and the co-founder and director of The Talking Cure, hears similar frustrations from her clients. "People express various frustrations, including feeling overwhelmed with the volume of potential dates to scroll through, the impersonal nature of interactions and the pressure to present themselves in a certain way to attract attention. The swiping culture can sometimes feel transactional, leading to anxiety about constant rejection or superficiality. A frequent concern is 'ghosting' where potential dates disappear from communication without explanation, which can be emotionally unsettling," she says.

HOW TO DATE - SANS APPS

App-less dating is, without a doubt, scarier. There are no clear parameters, and no signs as obvious as a digital rose or 'like' to confirm that someone is interested in you.

A few single people I spoke to have implemented practices like asking someone out in public every two weeks or giving their number out to strangers each month, but the majority told me they're not going out of their way to meet new people to date. Something each person had in common, though, was their desire to meet someone organically. I know first-hand that if single people want this desire to come to fruition, they have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. We have to strike up a conversation, tell our friends we'd like to be set up, or slip a note and our number to someone we've been crushing on.

Laura reckons the first step to dating sans apps is to get out and about. "If you find that you don't go out much, it's going to be hard to find someone to date," she says. "Where to meet people will depend on your lifestyle - of course, clubs and bars are a great place to meet people. At restaurants, spark up a conversation with someone as you're waiting for your table or waiting for your Uber afterwards. Smile at them from across the room. If you're feeling bold, leave your number on a napkin."

Caroline recommends heading to events or engaging in hobbies and activities where you can meet like-minded people. "Volunteering, joining clubs, or attending social events related to your interests provide natural opportunities for connection. I hear 'run clubs' are the new dating scene of choice," she says.

"Let your social networks know that you are keen to meet new people. Sometimes friends can introduce you to others who share similar values and interests, instantly creating a more meaningful starting point."

And as Ray*, a man I spoke to who no longer uses dating apps, tells me, we need to embrace the romance of connecting with prospective lovers in real time - without the barrier of a screen. "I love catching an attractive stranger's eye in the supermarket while selecting the ripest avocado. I love fantasising about them coming up to me afterwards and me writing an entire story about our love affair. To me this is so much more exciting than getting hyped up about a person on the other side of your screen."

* Names have been changed