What does dating look like for young people in 2024?

As 2023 drew to a close, the telltale signs of a new beginning took the form of endless ‘in and out’ lists punctuating our social feeds. Frequently spotted in the ‘out’ column – alongside bows, the endless girlification of culture and east London small plates restaurants – were dating apps, declared ‘so last year’ en-masse by micro-influencers across the globe.

“They’re deleted, disposed of, dismissed, discarded, dead!” 24-year-old Leila* tells Dazed, vowing to banish the very apps that were her introduction to dating with a conclusive tap of an acrylic nail against her phone screen. “Never again. They’re shallow and the conversations are vapid.”

She’s not alone. A widespread departure from dating apps among young singles seems more than a hopeful New Year’s resolution and instead a signal of a generational shift in attitudes towards digital romance. More than 90 per cent of Gen Z report feeling frustrated with dating apps, and events platform Eventbrite has reported a 21 per cent rise in interest for in-person speed dating events in the past year. Now, major apps like Hinge and Bumble are grappling with drastic stock plunges as the first generation to grow up with the internet are shunning online dating, crying for the return of ‘real life connection’ and the abolition of casual, low-maintenance dating culture.

The desire for more tangible connections resonates with 24-year-old Aaron* who, after using apps like Grindr, Hinge and Tinder regularly since the age of 18, admits to reaching the end of his tolerance with their repetitive nature. “It’s the ‘you ok?’ warriors,” he explains. “They’re grown and yet they have nothing else in the world to talk about at all. I can’t do the small talk anymore.”

But why, after a decade of success, are young people only now declaring the apps infertile environments for real romance? “When they started people thought they would liberate sexuality. But most dating apps have become very gendered and traditional, and that can be depressing,” says Dr Jenny van Hooff, a sociologist at Manchester Metropolitan University. However, this doesn’t mean the apps are entirely to blame for our seemingly unstable modern dating culture. “The overarching understanding is that [dating apps] have demolished commitment. They do present more choices to people and when we have more choices it’s harder to commit, but I don’t think dating apps have caused that,” Dr van Hooff continues. “They just reflect that element of society. That’s just capitalism and a society that is predicated on choice.”

@_missyperez asking for a friend (it’s me, I’m the friend) #single #datingapps #dating #philadelphia ♬ original sound - Missy Perez

Endless choice, it seems, has become too overwhelming for some disillusioned users. Initially, the ease of swiping through hundreds of potential partners was an exciting novelty, but a decade of treating the search for love like an evolved Candy Crush has dampened the spirits of some young singles. Many have grown jaded from years of viewing potential partners as commodities, forced to market themselves into profiles that are appealing while maintaining a crucial illusion of effortlessness.

Plus, with an entire adolescence dimly lit by blue light and soundtracked by the soft ping of social media notifications, it’s no surprise young people are seeking romance away from their phones. “I would like to find someone that I actually care about for more than a week, and between my job and my social life it’s not that attractive to look for that in an app that is in the same folder as phone games or social media,” says 26-year-old Porfirio, who’s contemplating deleting the apps after a five-year stint. Similarly, 23-year-old Ellie has already committed to closing her profiles to reduce screen time. “They just became an interactive hot or not game and another reason to be on my phone 24/7 when I’d rather be out,” she explains.

“There’s this narrative that younger women have been fed where you’ll have this meet-cute. You’ll stumble into someone on your way to uni, you’ll drop your books, he’ll pick them up and you fall in love” – Amanda

Even those opting to remain on the apps are reconsidering their relationships with them in a bid to eliminate the awkward job interview-esque small talk. Feeld, an app that champions ethical exploration of sexuality, has surged in popularity in the past few years, seeing a 107 per cent rise in users between the first three quarters of 2022 and 2023. It’s there that 24-year-old Amanda* has migrated in search of future “romantic liaisons”, after spending her entire adult life flitting between Hinge, Bumble and Tinder. The more ‘traditional’ apps, she says, created a challenge in distinguishing between those looking for casual hookups and serious relationships. “I like that [Feeld] is straight to the point,” she says. “I’m not gonna give someone a pick-up line, it’s gonna be like ‘Oh, so you want to be pissed on?’”

For young people like Amanda, apps with clearer boundaries have reintroduced an element of control into online dating – something that was once at the core of its appeal, but has slipped away in recent years with the proliferation of ‘commitment phobia’, as evidenced by the growing prevelance of situationships and ghosting. “[On Feeld], I’m not thinking that this person could potentially be the love of my life, unlike other apps where people say they’re looking for long-term relationships when they’re not. I know the exact expectation going into it, so there’s no high hopes,” Amanda says.

This demand for clearer lines, without sacrificing the sexual liberation that once existed as dating apps’ USP, speaks to a wider longing for stability that’s gradually infiltrating modern dating culture. Young people in 2024 have unprecedented difficulty jumping on the housing ladder and they can no longer anticipate how much a food shop will cost from one week to the next, so it makes sense that many are seeking to gain greater control of their love lives.

@ashleighnekeman 2024 in’s & out’s 🤝🏼 #2024 #2024insandouts #newyear #2024goals ♬ original sound - A

However, according to Dr van Hooff, this mindset has the potential to set people up for disappointment. “People are looking for certainty, but they’re looking for that in the area of our life that is the least certain,” she says. Initial users of dating apps praised the fluidity, freedom and even insecurity offered in contrast to traditional ideas of long-term commitment, and Dr van Hooff argues that those benefits come with a price that may be unappealing to young people today who must navigate an increasingly unstable economic climate. “The other side of that fluidity is this feeling of anxiety. People want clarity but I don’t know that it’s available.”

Much of the dating app rejection also seems to be down to Gen Z’s tendency to look back at prior decades with an extremely rose-tinted view – hence the heavy wave of nostalgia currently sweeping pop culture. “There’s this narrative that younger women have been fed where you’ll have this meet-cute. You’ll stumble into someone on your way to uni, you’ll drop your books, he’ll pick them up and you fall in love,” says Amanda. “I’m too pessimistic to believe it’s possible these days because of the apps.”

However, becoming a tradwife and wholly departing from modernity isn’t necessarily the key to fulfilment in our love lives. After all, commitment isn’t entirely extinct. “We have to be really careful about romanticising the past. The average age for marriage in the 70s was 22 for women and now it’s well into the 30s. Women aren’t willing to compromise and put up with behaviour they would have had to years ago, and that is the result of all these kinds of changes, like sexual liberation,” says Dr van Hooff. “The cost of that is uncertainty and less structure, but this is what contemporary life looks like. People might not like every aspect of it, but to avoid that altogether could be quite problematic.”