22 / 11 / 2025
11 Minute Read

Tinder: When supply and demand mismatch…

 

When Tinder launched in 2012, the app quickly revolutionized online dating and already envisioned dominating the sector by promising to make dating easier, while simultaneously aiming to compete with established players like OKCupids, Match, eHarmony or Parship. The platform's innovative concept allowed it to quickly rise to the top of dating sites in the West. However, a completely different target audience emerged, and fewer couples formed on Tinder. Over the years, Tinder has become a different kind of site. Paradoxically, it attracts a clientele who tirelessly search for each other through a screen, without ever seeming to want to find each other.

In this article, I open a sincere reflection on my perception of what Tinder really is and why the quest for a romantic relationship – a pillar of its initial marketing – goes against Tinder's business model. I should clarify that I am only focusing here on heterosexual relationships because the gay/lesbian market operates in different ways.

 

What is Tinder and where does its popularity come from?

Tinder is a location-based dating app that uses your distance settings + GPS to show nearby profiles. It is a relatively sophisticated app, made into a super user-friendly website. Tinder popularized the swipe interface which made it instantly a very unique platform. Swipe right, you’re interested. Swipe left, you are not interested. If both users swipe right, it’s a match, and you can chat. Tinder moved from an Elo score–like system (similar to ranking in chess) evaluating desirability to a more AI complex matching algorithm that shows people you are most likely to match with based on behavioral signals (your swiping habits), photo quality signals, activity patterns, popularity, mutual interests, profile completeness and location.

Tinder was the first dating app to eliminate long profiles, lengthy questionnaires and significant browsing lists. Swiping enables the user to search in a fast, visual, mobile-native way. It is meant to feel like a game, not a serious dating search and therefore, pretends to lower the emotional “cost” of rejection (I do not agree with this saying and will come back to this point later in this article) because one never knew who said no and only mutual matches could chat.

The fact that Tinder was built specifically for smartphones (full-screen photos, GPS-based suggestions, simple navigation) while its competitors were still web-centric made it a visionary website.

Not to mention that unlike older platforms where anyone could message anyone, Tinder required a mutual right-swipe before messaging. This feature reduced unsolicited messages, felt safer and made women more comfortable joining the site.

And within a few years, Tinder had completely transformed the dating scene in the West.

 

Why doesn’t online dating feel the same anymore?

Of course, like any change, Tinder has brought its share of "good things": novelty, innovation, the formation of many couples (especially at the beginning, when the app was first launched), and the connection of people who have forged strong friendships. But this new concept of social interaction has also democratized new rules that have themselves distorted the profound meaning of meeting another person. Consequently, meeting someone is no longer considered something precious but rather a "consumable" commodity, easily and readily to dispose of.

The dramatic reduction of effort required to start online dating was initiated by Tinder. No more filling out long biographies, completing personality tests, or specifying detailed preferences before being able to browse profiles. Tinder stripped all of that away. Instead, new users only need to upload a few photos, add a short bio, and enable location services. Unfortunately, this minimal barrier to entry made many people considering traditional online dating as too serious, too time-consuming, or simply too awkward. Nowadays, having to make an effort to meet someone has become for many, "too much to ask".

People have become uninterested in reading profiles made used to quick, intuitive decisions based almost entirely on photos. This perfectly aligns with the rise of Instagram and a generation increasingly images focused. The full-screen photo cards and minimal text create an interface that feels modern, familiar, and natural for younger users who are already using pictures to express themselves across social media. No wonder why Tinder 's user demographics is aged 18–35 and mainly lives in urban areas. The disturbing part of this is that recent studies show that 69% of Gen-Z declare to feel like people around them are “not really with them,” and 68% said they feel like no one really knows them well…

Today, the sad reality is that the culture of online dating has been turned into a game where each swipe offers a quick burst of engagement, while unexpected matches produced dopamine spikes similar to variable rewards in slot machines. The infinite feed encouraged continuous scrolling, and the unpredictability of outcomes kept users hooked. This is why Tinder isn’t just a dating tool, but an engaging game that make people want to return to again and again.

 

Why doesn’t Tinder want you to find love?

For some, this may seem contradictory, but it is important to understand that for Tinder, the ideal customer, from a revenue perspective, is a heavy user who doesn’t delete the app. Tinder wants you to stay single. Because the moment you find lasting love and delete the app, you stop generating revenue for them. Dating apps like Tinder have revenue that depends on subscriptions, in-app purchases, and ads, all of which require users to keep swiping. Because of this, the app is designed to maximize your engagement rather than compatibility.

And to make commitment harder, Tinder ensures that its app offers an abundance of choice. Research on the “paradox of choice” shows that having too many options increases indecision and decreases satisfaction, which keeps people searching instead of settling into meaningful connections. Tinder’s algorithm reinforces this by optimizing for activity (addictive design, superficial matching, endless swiping, minimal long-term compatibility focus) — who is most likely to swipe, match, and engage — rather than who might be a genuinely compatible partner.

Ultimately, Tinder thrives on a user like you who is curious, hopeful, slightly lonely, and always looking for “something better.” If too many people found deep fulfillment or stable relationships, they would delete the app — which is the exact opposite of what keeps the platform profitable. In that sense, Tinder’s success depends less on helping you to find love and more on keeping you endlessly engaged in the search for it.

 

What dangers are associated with promoting short flings?

Note that I'm not singling out Tinder in particular, as many other sites of this kind fall into the same category. However, I feel it's important to emphasize that websites promoting short flings primarily facilitate casual sex, but they also create a ripple effect in areas such as power dynamics, transactional relationships, emotional wellbeing, and public health risks.

Even if these websites will never admit it, it is obvious that they make money by promoting the one-night stand.  They openly facilitate brief sexual relationships where people will engage in casual sex without emotional attachment. I have no problem with the concept itself, but I struggle to understand the hypocrisy and lack of transparency of these platforms. It is also necessary to take into account that, these repeated short-term sexual interactions may affect emotional bonding and attachment patterns by having people prioritizing sexual gratification over emotional intimacy.

Furthermore, these sites often give men the false hope that they have just as good a chance as women of finding a match, since men far outnumber women on them. This 9-minute video perfectly illustrates my point: “Why do men get so few matches on Dating Apps? - A Statistical View” . In fact, globally, the ratio is on average about 70% male to 30% female users. The truth is that the sexual market value plays a significant role, even with dating apps.

I would also like to stress that while many hookup sites are for consenting adults, some indirectly promote sex for money. Indeed, some users may offer money or gifts in exchange for sexual attention, which can easily blur the line between casual dating and prostitution or escort services. And although common belief persists that sex workers are more likely to transmit STIs as opposed to a woman who is not active in this industry (which is, of course, false), the most professional independent escorts take this issue very seriously. Society systematically blames sex workers, when in reality, during a one-night stand, the request for unprotected sex almost always comes from men.

 

So, is Tinder good or bad?

Because I can't just write an article that criticizes sites like Tinder, I also have to (in order to be taken seriously by the most skeptical among you) talk about the positive aspects. Tinder has made it easy to meet people you would’ve never encountered in your daily life. If you’re new to a city, introverted, busy, or just curious, swiping can open doors that real life doesn’t always offer. It’s convenient, it’s fast, and it gives you a sense of control — you decide who you match with, when you talk, and whether anything moves forward. There’s also something undeniably validating about getting a match. It’s human to enjoy feeling wanted, attractive, or interesting, and Tinder can deliver those little boosts when you need them. And because the space is pretty low-pressure, you can explore different things — a relationship, a casual date, a fling, even just a fun conversation — without feeling locked into any one path.

Sadly, Tinder has a different side, too — one that almost nobody talks about, and a lot of people quietly struggle with. The app does feel extremely superficial. Being reduced to a handful of photos and a short bio can wear on your confidence, especially on days when matches are slow, or conversations break off before they begin. Ghosting, mismatched intentions, and endless small talk can leave you feeling drained. It’s normal to wonder if you’re doing something wrong, even though the truth is: almost everyone experiences this. Tinder simply makes disappearing easy, and that can hurt more than we admit. The gender imbalance and the pressure that comes with it is also a reality on Tinder. Some people feel buried in messages; others feel invisible. And almost everyone — at some point — questions whether it’s them or the app. Add to that the addictive swiping loop and the gentle push toward paid features, and the whole experience can turn from exciting to mentally exhausting, faster than we expect.

In other words, for a very few, Tinder means energy, hope, fun, because it’s working for them. However, for many like you, it’s just leave them stressed or numb.

 

Tinder: What it is and what it is not.

Tinder is a tool. As mentioned in the chapter above, it can bring you connection, confidence, and unexpected joy — but it can also amplify your insecurity, fatigue, and disappointment. What really matters is how you use it and how it makes you feel.

Statistically, heterosexual women meet online more often than heterosexual men. They therefore have an advantage in this market. Given all the points I've discussed in this article, the crucial question that I think a man should ask himself when using dating sites like Hinge, Bumble, or Tinder is what he's looking for. If his ultimate goal is to have short, no-strings-attached encounters, then this is probably the right place, provided he is one of the most attractive men. If not, deciding to see an escort is undoubtedly a more strategic and less disappointing choice because the chances of achieving your goal increase, without having to deal with stress, pressure, competition or feeling of rejection.

If, on the other hand, you're looking for a stable and lasting relationship, perhaps you should return to more conservative/traditional ways of meeting people and reconnect with real-life spaces that feel more fulfilling. I know it's easier said than done, especially knowing that most dating apps are owned by the Match Group (that bought Tinder in 2017) and that the few dating apps that aren't owned by Match are generally Tinder clones with a twist slight. To cap it all, gender roles and social norms around dating have changed so much over the past decades that meeting people in "real life" is no longer that simple.

Are we stuck in a dating scene dilemma? Yeah, kind of... Because most users of these dating apps express unsatisfaction, Tinder and the others are slowly losing members to hobby apps. Hobby apps want to give people a way to connect through shared interests, and for many users, those connections become friendships — or romantic relationships. As people crave for more authentic interactions, hobby-based platforms naturally become a new — and sometimes healthier — route to meeting someone.

 

Janet - The Velvet Rooms

 

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