In the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, dating apps typically see a spike in new users and activity. More profiles are created, more messages sent, more swipes logged.
Dating platforms market themselves as modern technological solutions to loneliness, right at your fingertips. And yet, for many people, the day meant to celebrate romantic connection feels lonelier than ever.
This, rather than a personal failure or the reality of modern romance, is the outcome of how dating apps are designed and of the economic logic that governs them.
These digital tools aren’t simply interfaces that facilitate connection. The ease and expansiveness of online dating have commodified social bonds, eroded meaningful interactions and created a type of dating throw-away culture, encouraging a sense of disposability and distorting decision-making.
There was a “Golden Age” period of dating apps (that actually coincided much with the same “golden age” of many other services including streaming), where making money wasn’t the goal, and the services actually served their official goal - pairing up people.
Problem is, any kind of dating app is self-detrimental for revenue, because if they serve that official goal, they’re essentially nixing their own customer base. Because what’s the point of a dating app? To find a person you can date, therefore you wouldn’t need a dating app anymore. If it works as advertised, users spend bare minimum time on the platform before achieving their goals and leaving it.
This simply means that a dating platform is only viable in three scenarios:
Most dating apps fall into the second category, and in fact if you do just a moment’s research you’ll notice that some 80-90% of the highest traffic (or most known) dating apps are under a single company. Yep, there’s a literal dating apps monopoly going on that snuffs out competition, or buys them up and shuts them down, and so on.
In fact… I’m a mobile app engineer, and I’ve actually ended up applying to a few dating app startups. The one common denominator between these was not that they wanted to do something new, or wanted to engage people differently than the rest… no. It was that all of these companies were specifically made with a niche idea in mind with the sole purpose of creating a minimum viable product that catches the interest of this dating monopoly and buys the company out. Yup. My job would’ve been “make our company sellable”. You can imagine how inspiring that is, especially when there’s no offer of equity on the table…
It doesn’t have to be. In the US, about 4 million people turn 18 every year. Let’s say you get all of them signed up and all of them optimally paired off. You still have another 4 million new signups next year. Until the world falls off a demographic cliff, you’ve got an evergreen customer population.
That being said, the well is VERY poisoned at this point. The match group is a cancer on our society.
But why limit yourself to the 4 million new customers when you could have 4 million news customers AND potentially 4 million retained customers from last year.
Because I’m not a sociopath. In this theoretical happily-ever-after dating app, I want to make people happy by connecting them with the right other people. Ongoing business comes from happy couples giving word of mouth recommendations to their friends and family, not from trying to lock in a misery subscription.
Maybe I’m old fashioned. I remember a time when capitalism meant “make money by doing something helpful for people” instead of rent-seeking bamboozle profits.