Though they are ubiquitous in the twenty-first century dating scene, dating apps have commodified love
Tinder allows you to swipe left or right depending on your perception of profiles. Hinge lets you carefully curate an image of yourself with quirky prompts. Bumble is set up in such a way that ghosting is prohibited, and there must be mutual interest for both parties to converse. Among other big dating app names are Grindr, Raya, and OkCupid.
Each of these apps are here to help you find the one—or perhaps someone that will make you a tad less lonely, even if it is only for a fleeting moment. It seems harmless (to an extent): the app is a means of communication and putting yourself out there. In our digital age, it might be the best way to find a partner, and there are many success stories. Some people only use it for quick dalliances, or even friendships. But you and your match are not the only ones benefitting from swiping or making profiles—a voyeur lies behind each app, which is a corporation commodifying your precious love.
It seems innocuous. You download an app (or two) and make a profile, choose your most flattering pictures and write captions that depict yourself as someone’s potential soulmate. Others do it too, so it is not a matter of deception. You allow the algorithm to present you with matches and vice versa. You swipe in one direction if you loathe this hyperrealistic person, and in the other if you would not mind spending eternity with them. You privately message the one who seems perfect, and you both either hit it off or bust. You go out on a date or two, maybe have sex—but if you are left with more to be desired, then you re-open those same apps and re-swipe. You can’t do much else, as this is how dating apps are constructed—it is pleasurable for many.
Throughout this entire process, the corporations are gleeful. You spend an increasing amount of time on their apps and even dare to purchase a subscription granting you premium access (more swipes, therefore a better chance at romance, right?), though you give them a set amount of your money each month in exchange. They even fill your feed with advertisements—anything to profit off your emotional and sexual drives.
In fact, the repetitive actions of creating profiles, pitching yourself as though you are a sales product and swiping either left or right, is eerily reminiscent of online shopping. Your profile on a dating app is no different to an article of clothing on a fast fashion website. Potential lovers and customers shop around, filter by criteria, and sort through thousands of seekers. “Liking” or “matching” is similar to adding a product to your cart or wishlist. Hitting it off and going on a date provide the same happiness and excitement one feels when they know a package is en route—the package being affection, or a happily ever after. Indeed, just the mere idea of a potential match fills you with euphoria. Dating apps recognize these happy feelings—the very ones that keep you engaged.
Dating apps are addicting. Love is addicting—we know this already—but dating apps use algorithms and design systems similar to social media platforms (e.g., TikTok, Instagram, X/Twitter). The repetitive actions of dating apps provide users with a sense of pleasure, activating dopamine-producers that cause feelings of happiness and excitement. The algorithms used by dating apps increase the amount of dopamine being released. Further, to ensure that you truly stay engaged, these apps delay success by withholding perfect matches. This keeps you on their apps, further tempting you to purchase a subscription so you remain hooked. In this instance, we can again see the commodification of love—it is used as a pawn for profit.
Dating apps recognise the significance they hold in twenty-first century lives through their business schemes that allow them to generate romance-based revenue. They target the soft spot in your heart—the very thing that drives you to their apps in the first place. By using dopamine-producing algorithms, replicating online shopping, and luring you into purchasing a subscription, dating apps commodify love. You are just another dollar sign in the eyes of these corporations, who see your want for affection and companionship as another way to line their pockets. The user-app relationship is unequal—where corporations seek profit, you seek something far more meaningful. It is the structure of the search—the dating app—that has turned love into a commodity.