Dating game: the apps that are now as ‘addictive as gambling’

Kimberley Bond talks to users who are hooked on the ‘thrill’ of getting matches on the sites

Andy can pinpoint the exact moment he realised he was addicted to dating apps; it was during a break-up in 2016.

“Midway through the fight, she went to the bathroom,” Andy, now 33, recalls. “And immediately, I went straight on Tinder, looking to get matches.

“I’d not used the apps while in the relationship, but I’d never deleted them off my phone either. I thought, ‘I’m on Tinder in the middle of being broken up with … this is not great.’”

Andy is a self-confessed dating app addict, obsessively switching between Tinder, Bumble and Hinge in an attempt to rack up matches.

It’s an addiction that has plagued him for more than a decade; he was an early adopter, joining Tinder in 2013.

“Before dating apps, all we could do was go to a bar and try to chat up girls, which sucked,” he explains. “Being rejected in real life is unpleasant. On apps, if a girl stops replying, it’s no big deal – there are plenty more to scroll through.”

It wasn’t just safety from rejection; Andy adds he initially became hooked on the “thrill” of getting matches: “I got an instant rush knowing someone found me attractive.”

It’s unsurprising that this rush is addictive; psychologist and addiction expert Dr Ree Langham explains these apps capitalise on the dopamine neurotransmitter: effectively, the reward regulation in our brain.

“The reward system is designed to encourage behaviours critical for survival by providing feelings of pleasure, which can be exploited by dating apps,” Dr Langham explains.

“Over time, the brain associates these surges with the app, creating an increased usage and tolerance where more frequent use is needed to achieve the same satisfaction.” Dr Langham adds that in this respect, dating apps “can be as addictive as gambling”.

It’s little wonder, then, that

Tinder, Hinge and other Match dating apps are facing a class-action lawsuit in California by six users, for designing its dating platforms with game-like features that “lock users into a perpetual pay-to-play loop”. “Match’s business model depends on generating returns through the monopolisation of users’ attention, and Match has guaranteed its market success by fomenting dating app addiction that drives expensive subscriptions and perpetual use,” the lawsuit says. (A Match spokesman, meanwhile, claims that “Our business model is not based on advertising or engagement metrics. We actively strive to get people on dates every day and off our apps.”)

But Andy certainly treats the apps like a game, describing them like “an online multiplayer” – constantly testing which pictures and prompt responses elicit the most matches.

“My friends and I used to have contests about who could get the most dates – I’d line up three women over the weekend, sometimes dating one girl in the afternoon and one at night,” he explains.

After scoring so many dates, Andy kept track of the women he was speaking to and seeing in an extensive spreadsheet, from the S tier (best looking) to D tier (the least attractive). Andy sheepishly revealed if a woman’s name is in bold, it means they had sex (the spreadsheet has plenty of bold).

“I grew up in a generation where we all had Gameboys in our pocket,” he explains. “We could play Pokémon wherever we wanted. I view Tinder the same way – when I’m bored, I’d swipe through matches.”

It wasn’t just his spare time being eaten away. Andy found his wallet thoroughly pumped too, after spending around £30 a month on subscriptions such as Tinder and Hinge, which gives perks such as unlimited likes and for the algorithm to give your profile more prominence. He even shelled out a £200 lifetime subscription to Bumble.

“The apps give the impression you’re in control,” he says. “Almost as if the more effort and money you put in, the more success you’ll have.”

It’s something writer Genevieve Wheeler, 29, agrees with. She joined dating apps when she was 21, having moved from the US to London to study. At one point, she found herself scrolling through various apps for five hours a day.

While Genevieve matched with “hundreds” of men, she only had a few dates, and one successful relationship (they broke up after a year together).

“It felt like men were collecting matches like it was Super Mario,” she explains. “It was addictive as different people had different end goals – but you keep hoping you would meet someone aligned to you.”

Genevieve adds that, while she didn’t enjoy being on the apps, she felt like it was the only way to meet new people. It’s a fair assumption: 74 per cent of Gen Z and Millennials use dating apps. However, it’s not to say people enjoy using them. According to research by platform Tylt, 84 per cent of Millennials would rather find love “in real life” than online.

Relationship therapist Dr Emily

May agrees apps gamify the dating experience: “Users seek the thrill of the game over meaningful connection. The endless options result in people being less likely to form meaningful relationships.”

It cannot be denied that dating apps have helped some people find love: a study by Currys in 2023 found Tinder had a 16.5 per cent success rate when it came to finding a partner.

Genevieve found her Mr Right after a break from apps. After matching on an app during the pandemic, she spoke to her partner for several months before meeting him in person. Nearly four years on, they’re now engaged.

“Apps aren’t inherently bad,” she explains. “At their core, they do help you meet more people than you would otherwise, which means that you’re more likely to find the right person.”

Andy is also looking to settle down. But while he’s previously gone cold turkey from the apps (lasting 11 days), he still believes they’re his best hope of finding a partner.

“I’ve already lined up a date for tomorrow from Tinder,” he said. “Unfortunately, dating apps are what we have to ensure in order to find a long-term relationship. It’s a treadmill we can’t get off.”