Surely, I thought, being able to “swipe” through potential prospects prior to meeting them would minimise the agonising tension of rejecting or being rejected face-to-face, and eliminate complete mismatches.Online and app-based dating has changed the way we interact with each other.It seems that in searching for Mister (or Ms.) Right, we often ignore the potential of Mister Right In Front Of Us.In one sense, online dating platforms have done much good.Slightly embarrassed at the prospect of admitting in a public sphere that I would actually like to meet a man, I’d put off signing up to dating apps.But I’d had enough of weird, often obnoxious strangers.One in four relationships now start online, and that number will only increase.
There’s a whole generation of millennials who use dating apps as a matter of course, and it makes sense that we think a bigger pool increases the likelihood of finding someone we’re actually compatible with.
Apart from feeling bad for them being socially impelled to take the initiative (with the exception of the rude ones who wouldn’t take no for an answer), I was struck by the arbitrariness of it all. You interact with the people who happen to be there, in the hope that one of them might be the sort of person you’d want to get to know better.
After the last guy – who stood uncomfortably close, smelled overwhelmingly of something like Lynx Africa and looked like his shirt was sprayed on from a can – strode back to his friends in a huff at rejected advances, I’d had enough.
About three years ago, I was sitting with a female friend in a bar on a frantic Saturday night in Dublin.
By the end of the night, several worse-for-wear men had wandered in our direction and attempted – some more ably than others – to strike up a conversation.
They’ve taken our immediate social circle out of dating, so you can do what you want without ever having to deal with the judgement of a peer group.