After roughly three years on Hinge in Toronto, I downloaded my account data. I wanted to understand what all that time had amounted to. I remembered the conversations and the dates. I hadn’t realized the scrolling had reached quite this scale.
The download recorded 68,896 profile skips, with additional activity bringing the total to approximately 69,000. I’d sent 1,387 likes and 129 roses: 1,516 attempts to express interest. There were 714 outgoing messages and 130 matches with outgoing messages. From memory, I’d gone on around 10 actual dates. None became a lasting relationship.
I joined with genuine hopes. I wanted to meet someone, improve my English, understand dating culture in Canada, and hopefully build a meaningful relationship. I didn’t expect it to happen immediately. I also didn’t picture myself spending years moving through tens of thousands of profiles.
I kept making adjustments. Different photos, rewritten prompts, different opening messages. I tried being funny, thoughtful, direct, spontaneous. Sometimes a conversation seemed to be going well and then simply stopped. There was rarely enough information to know what, if anything, had changed.
Some dates felt more like job interviews than a chance to see whether we enjoyed each other. Career, finances, future plans: reasonable subjects, but sometimes they seemed to fill the space where curiosity or chemistry might have developed. I paid for every date. I didn’t expect affection in return; I occasionally wished the effort and interest felt more mutual.
Meanwhile, the profiles began to blur. Travel, brunch, coffee, restaurants, someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously. Those are perfectly ordinary things to enjoy. After thousands of profiles, though, I struggled to feel I was encountering distinct people through the familiar presentation.
I know women have their own frustrations with these apps, and my experience can’t explain everyone else’s. I’ve lived in several countries, and Toronto has felt particularly difficult for dating. I can’t neatly separate the city, the culture, the app, and the ways I’ve changed.
Eventually, I decided to leave Hinge behind. I’m still curious about people who stayed long enough to meet someone, and people who left after years of trying. Did things change when you stopped using the apps—or did the next match finally become something?
