Sighing, I changed my bio to ‘Looking for someone to talk to about how much I hate Tinder’ and logged off.
In the past five years of being single, I’ve been on about 100 dates through apps such as Tinder, Hinge, Happn and Bumble.
And Fantastic Services, which has gone a step further, offers a ‘dating debugging service’.For a fee, it will give you a one-hour consultation to find out your soulmate preferences.Many of my friends had even more bizarre experiences when their dates did show up.A work colleague, Lindsay, had a guy leave ten minutes into dinner because he could ‘never date a vegetarian’. I hadn’t been on it for about a year, but in a moment of boredom, sitting at my desk on a Wednesday afternoon, I fell back into bad habits.
Swiping through several depressingly familiar faces – a friend’s ex-husband, someone I went to school with, all the same men who were on it the year before – I felt a wave of misery.
It also meant that being stood up, ignored or ghosted (withdrawing all communication without explanation) became the norm.
I lost count of how many times men disappeared, often mid-conversation, after weeks of talking. One person I matched with during my brief foray back on the app sent me a message, and when I replied he called me a ‘Tinder unicorn’ – something that’s so rare it’s practically mythical – simply because I had responded.
Yes, you can still meet in a bar or by joining a club, but that suddenly seemed like a terrifying prospect. We’re increasingly seeing services crop up that offer to do the dating work for you.
There’s Crushh, which scans your texts for signs of affection, or Jyst, that allows you to crowd-source advice for your dating problems.
My friend Sophie had seen her Tinder suitor eight or nine times, met his family and talked about spending Christmas together when one day she realised he’d blocked her on Whats App and Facebook.