Hit me baby one more time

Dating apps are like the toxic ex you can't quit. But imagine matching with someone because you both read the same books, having a meetcute on a WhatsApp group, and crushing on a faceless bio. Ready to fall in love with love again?

- Kritika Kapoor [e-mail]

When Tinder debuted in India in 2013, we all had butterflies. Romance without the awkward parts? Yes, please. No more sweaty-palmed rejections or mustering up the courage to ask out a stranger. The app pulled potential matches from Facebook — friends of friends, people who liked the same music or movies. The circle felt close-knit, the vibes legit. Then came Bumble, Hinge, the homegrown QuackQuack and more. There were plenty of fish in the sea.

Twelve years on, online dating is more hellscape than honeymoon. Until 2018, only 20 million Indians used dating apps. By 2023, sign-ups had jumped to 82.4 million. Most users have given up on Tinder because it's hard to really gauge a person beyond that basic bio. Hinge and Bumble have nudged users to paint a fuller picture of themselves via prompts (My typical Sunday, The best way to ask me out). Even those efforts have flatlined. Every second user describes themselves as an adventure junkie, a fitness fanatic or a sapiosexual, looking for a partner that makes them laugh. Raya, which started off being exclusively for influencers and celebs, has quietly begun letting in the merely rich.

Besides, the numbers are skewed. Dating service Woo's 2022 survey of 20,000 Indians shows that only 26% of users on the popular apps are women. So, men struggle (even with paid VIP upgrades), women are overwhelmed.

There are more fish in the sea. But you've probably swiped through them all. A new slew of apps is hoping, again, to clear the clutter and offer just a bit more transparency, a little more optimism. Does that mean love has a fighting chance?

Showing some spine