Why I hate Hinge

You would think that after the tenth or so time, as the dreaded text of mutual rejection slides into my WhatsApp, that I would get the hint. That I would delete the app, touch some grass, and go back to playing Ultimate. But no. I bounce back, anxious and hopeful that the next person will be my right one. I circle back like a boomerang, ready to plonk another person.

My journey with dating had moved from an excited dive, to a delayed disappointment, to a slow acceptance that it is not working. The trouble is that it is also mixed with a whole host of post-breakup lessons as well, all tossed into a toxic bag of feelings and acceptances. It’s the hotpot of relationship-related issues, and it is a broth that reels the stomach.

But if I were to separate my own cat-bag of scratching emotional issues, then it’s clear Hinge does not work. It gamifies seeing other people, reducing people to oft-repeated lines and imagery where, let’s face it, we always judge a little by the box. If I see a single crystal in the background, I am out.

And when dating happens, it is never organic. Sure, you are both on the same page; but are we even reading the same book? Or reading at the same speed? Often we are not, and that heat and intensity dies to nothing.

I think the mindset of dating with Hinge is all wrong. it does not feel organic, or healthy, or let it brew naturally. It is a forced thing, pulling something up faster or harder than it should. It is like tending a plant, but you hook it with harsh chemicals and reorganise its roots with rough hands, all hoping that, yes, it will now grow strong. But it doesn’t work; you shape it too much, and it withers.

And that is why I have stopped (for now), and see if a little bit of fresh air and grass helps.

Either that, or I am the problem. No, of course not.