The Polycrisis Generation: Youth in Cascading Crises

TL;DR: Dating apps optimize for engagement over relationship success, using algorithms that keep users swiping but rarely satisfied. The paradox of infinite choice, gamification mechanics, and profit-driven design create psychological costs including burnout and commodified connection.
You're not imagining it—dating apps really do feel like they're getting worse. While you're swiping through endless profiles, wondering why nothing sticks, the apps are quietly celebrating. Because every frustrated swipe, every "almost" match, every minute you spend scrolling keeps their business model humming along perfectly.
Here's the uncomfortable truth: dating apps aren't optimized to get you into a relationship. They're optimized to keep you using the app.
This isn't conspiracy theory territory. It's documented business strategy, backed by behavioral psychology research, and visible in the design decisions of every major platform. The same algorithms that promise to find your perfect match are simultaneously engineered to ensure you never quite find them—or at least, not too quickly.
Dating apps face what might be called the "success paradox." Their entire value proposition is helping you find love, but their entire revenue model depends on you not finding it.
Think about it: every successful match that leads to a relationship removes two paying customers from the platform. Meanwhile, someone who stays perpetually single, hopeful, and swiping represents recurring subscription revenue, potential purchases of boosts and super-likes, and valuable engagement data that can be monetized through partnerships.
The numbers tell the story. Tinder generated $1.79 billion in revenue in 2023, with an average user spending roughly $30-$50 per month on premium features. Match Group, which owns Tinder, Hinge, Match.com, and OkCupid, reported annual revenues exceeding $3 billion. They're not making that money from happily coupled-up former users.
According to industry analysis, the most profitable users are those in what developers call the "engagement zone"—not so frustrated they delete the app, but not so successful they leave the dating pool. The sweet spot is keeping users hopeful but hungry.
The most profitable dating app users aren't finding love—they're stuck in the "engagement zone," hopeful enough to keep swiping but never quite satisfied enough to leave.
What most users don't realize is that dating app algorithms aren't primarily matching algorithms at all. They're engagement algorithms that happen to involve romantic prospects.
Tinder's official guidance reveals that activity level is the most critical factor in profile visibility. The more you swipe, the more prominently your profile appears to others. But here's the catch: if you swipe right on everyone, the algorithm interprets this as spam behavior and tanks your visibility. You're rewarded for frequent, selective engagement—exactly the behavior pattern that keeps you on the app longest.
Bumble uses a similar system, with added layers that prioritize profiles that generate the most user engagement. Profiles that people spend time viewing, send messages to, or interact with get boosted. This creates a feedback loop where conventionally attractive profiles dominate the queue, while everyone else gets pushed further down.
Hinge markets itself as "designed to be deleted," but its algorithm works remarkably similarly to its competitors. It uses a modified Gale-Shapley algorithm that optimizes for mutual interest—but only among profiles the app chooses to show you, which are filtered through engagement metrics first.
The result? You're not really seeing the full dating pool. You're seeing the subset of people the algorithm predicts will keep you engaged but not necessarily satisfied.
Psychologist Barry Schwartz warned about the "paradox of choice" decades before Tinder existed, but dating apps have turned his theory into a mass social experiment.
When presented with seemingly endless romantic options, our decision-making processes fundamentally change. Instead of evaluating whether someone is a good match, we start looking for reasons to reject them. That person's haircut, the way they phrased their bio, one photo where they're wearing an outfit you wouldn't choose—suddenly these become dealbreakers.
Research published in psychological journals shows that when people have too many options, they become more critical and less satisfied with their eventual choice. They wonder if someone better is just one more swipe away. Dating apps don't just facilitate this mindset—they profit from it.
Analysis of user behavior reveals that people on dating apps typically become more selective over time, raising their standards while simultaneously feeling less confident about finding a match. It's a psychological trap disguised as opportunity.
"The brain is not well built to choose between hundreds or thousands of alternatives."
— Dr. Helen Fisher, Biological Anthropologist and Chief Scientific Advisor to Match.com
Dr. Helen Fisher, biological anthropologist and chief scientific advisor to Match.com, has acknowledged the cognitive overload that excessive choice creates. Yet the apps she consults for continue to present exactly that.
Dating apps didn't accidentally stumble into looking like games—they were deliberately designed that way.
Every swipe triggers a tiny dopamine hit. Every match provides a small reward. The variable ratio reinforcement schedule—where you never know when the next match will come—is the same psychological mechanism that makes slot machines addictive.
Behavioral scientists note that these gamification features transform what should be a serious search for partnership into a casual browsing experience. The swipe interface takes less than a second per profile, hardly enough time to process meaningful information about compatibility.
The consequences show up in user reports of dating fatigue. A survey found that 78% of Gen Z users report experiencing dating app burnout. They feel exhausted by the constant swiping, the shallow interactions, the ghosting, and the sense that they're shopping for people rather than connecting with them.
Psychologists identify four clear signs of dating burnout: emotional exhaustion from repeated failed connections, cynicism about finding genuine matches, reduced sense of accomplishment in dating efforts, and physical symptoms of stress when using apps.
But here's the dark twist: burnout doesn't necessarily make people delete the apps. Often, burned-out users take breaks and come back, creating a cycle of disengagement and re-engagement that extends their lifetime value as customers.
Beyond the engagement optimization lies an even more troubling issue: dating app algorithms perpetuate and amplify existing social biases.
Research from multiple sources demonstrates that women of color receive fewer matches than white women with similar profiles. Black women and Asian men face particularly severe penalties in algorithmic visibility.
These biases aren't necessarily programmed in directly. They emerge from how algorithms learn from user behavior. If the aggregate of user swipes shows racial preferences, the algorithm amplifies those preferences by showing certain profiles less frequently. The app doesn't need to be racist; it just needs to optimize for engagement, and discriminatory preferences qualify as engagement signals.
One data scientist who examined dating app algorithms noted that the systems essentially create "desirability scores" that function like social credit ratings. High scores get better visibility, creating a self-reinforcing cycle where popular profiles become more popular while others fade into algorithmic obscurity.
Dating app algorithms don't need to be explicitly biased to create discriminatory outcomes—they just need to optimize for engagement while learning from users' existing preferences, amplifying society's biases at scale.
The apps know about these issues. Researchers have proposed fairness frameworks for dating recommendations that could mitigate bias, but implementation remains limited. Why? Because addressing bias might reduce engagement from majority users who currently benefit from the algorithmic boost.
So do dating apps even work? The answer is frustratingly complicated.
A 2024 study found that relationships formed on dating apps are as strong and satisfying as those formed in person—challenging the assumption that algorithm-facilitated romance is inherently inferior. Research published in psychological journals confirmed these findings, noting no significant quality difference between app-based and organically-formed relationships.
But here's the critical nuance: these studies looked at people who successfully formed relationships through apps. They don't account for the opportunity cost of time spent on apps versus other ways of meeting people.
The data on relationship formation rates tells a different story. Research on marriage statistics shows declining marriage rates coinciding with the rise of dating apps, though correlation doesn't equal causation. What's clearer is that many users spend years on dating apps without forming serious relationships.
Industry data suggests that while about 39% of heterosexual couples now meet online, this includes all forms of online connection, not just dating apps. When narrowed specifically to swipe-based apps, the success rate drops significantly.
Meanwhile, Pew Research found that users report mixed experiences: 57% of people have positive views of online dating overall, but the data is less encouraging when you dig into specific experiences. Roughly 45% of users say online dating hasn't significantly impacted their dating life, and 35% say it's made dating harder, not easier.
Beyond the subscription fees and boost purchases, algorithmic dating carries psychological costs that researchers are only beginning to quantify.
Studies on swiping behavior show that the repeated rejection inherent in the swipe interface—even when you're the one rejecting—creates a sense of disposability. People become profiles, reduced to a few photos and sentences that can be dismissed in a second.
This commodification of human connection affects how people approach dating outside the apps too. Users report finding themselves mentally "swiping" on people they meet in real life, evaluating potential partners with the same quick-judgment mentality the apps train.
The constant availability paradox also creates problems. Because you can theoretically access hundreds of potential matches anytime, there's less incentive to invest deeply in any single connection. Why work through a awkward first date when you could swipe to someone new?
"This 'abundance mindset' ironically creates scarcity—not of options, but of genuine connection. When everything is available, nothing feels valuable enough to commit to."
— Relationship Psychology Research
Relationship experts note that this "abundance mindset" ironically creates scarcity—not of options, but of genuine connection. When everything is available, nothing feels valuable enough to commit to.
Some voices in the industry are pushing for different approaches, though they remain in the minority.
Developers and researchers have proposed alternative models: dating apps that charge upfront fees but don't profit from extended usage, platforms that limit daily swipes to encourage more thoughtful choices, algorithms that prioritize compatibility over engagement metrics, and apps that encourage offline meetings within specific timeframes.
The key shift would be moving from engagement-based to outcome-based metrics. Instead of measuring daily active users and swipes per session, apps could measure actual relationship formation.
Some platforms are experimenting with compatibility-first algorithms that sacrifice some engagement for potentially better matches. These apps ask more questions upfront, limit how many profiles you see daily, and emphasize quality over quantity.
Critics argue that such approaches can't compete with the psychological pull of infinite-scroll swiping. The apps that prioritize user success over user retention face a severe competitive disadvantage in an attention economy.
UX/UI designers acknowledge the tension: features that create the most engaging user experience aren't necessarily the ones that lead to the best dating outcomes. But in a market where apps compete for downloads and daily opens, engagement usually wins.
What can you do with this information? Understanding how dating app algorithms work doesn't make them stop working, but it does give you agency.
First, recognize the system you're operating in. You're not failing at dating because you're unlovable or inadequate. You're navigating a system deliberately designed to keep you engaged but unsatisfied.
Second, consider whether you're using apps or being used by them. Set time limits. Track how much you're spending on premium features. Notice when you're swiping out of boredom rather than genuine interest.
Third, understand that the algorithm's priorities aren't yours. It wants engagement; you want connection. Those goals align sometimes but often conflict. Don't let the app train you to think like its algorithm.
The algorithm wants your engagement. You want genuine connection. These goals sometimes align, but often conflict—and understanding that difference is your first step toward taking back control.
Fourth, remember that organic meetings still work. Social connections, hobby groups, mutual friends, and real-world activities haven't stopped being viable ways to meet partners just because an app exists.
The dating app industry will likely continue optimizing for profit over partnerships until regulatory pressure or market forces create different incentives. In the meantime, your best defense is awareness.
Dating apps are tools, not magic solutions. Like any tool, they're designed with specific purposes that may or may not align with yours. The swipe interface that feels so intuitive isn't neutral technology—it's a carefully crafted psychological mechanism designed to keep you coming back.
Maybe that's exactly what you need right now. Or maybe it's time to recognize that the algorithm keeping you single isn't broken—it's working exactly as intended.
The question isn't whether dating apps work. It's whether they work for you, or whether you work for them.

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