Dating apps aren’t just an option for students anymore—they’re basically a necessity. Meeting people on campus feels harder than ever, especially if you’re commuting an hour (or more) just to get to class. Unless you’re deep in the student club scene or blessed with effortless flirting skills, most students agree: Hinge is the go-to way to put yourself out there.
Hinge knows your predicament. It knows you’re vulnerable. It knows you’re desperate. It knows just how to claw its way onto your home-screen when you’re feeling your most masochistic.
And it knows that you’ll just keep coming back, no matter how many months of unsuccessful swiping and scrolling and reading the corny bios of identical men who think that having a mustache and painting their nails is a personality.
But how does it know? How does it work? Why won’t the app that’s “designed to be deleted” set you free?
Hinge is playing you.
The app lures students in with a feed full of models and demigods, making you think that the problem is simply the people on campus—that your next great love story is just a swipe away. But this isn't by chance—it’s by design. Dating apps rely on an initial flood of attractive profiles to hook new users, only for the algorithm to gradually dial it back, keeping you scrolling in search of that same high. The idea that you could land a partner so attractive that your friends won’t secretly pity you? Too tempting to resist.
However, in a week you’ll have nothing but 3’s and catfishes littering your feed, and you’ll be left wondering what you did to scare all the hot fish out of the sea.
Hinge wants your money. Hinge lines its pockets using the Standout section, the page that features only the best of the best (think Hailey Bieber Erewhon smoothies incarnate), which urges users to pay for roses/premium, and to stay close to the app at all times. Hinge also regularly encourages users to make their profiles as specific as possible to increase the chance of finding someone they’re truly compatible with. It implores you to cast a wide net, send as many likes as you can, and show interest in who likes you. But as a broke student just looking for love, you’re a free user, and you only have so many preferences you can adjust, limited likes to give out per day, and restricted view of who likes you. But for the measly cost of $39.98/week you can become a subscriber of Hinge Premium and (for one-time only) boost your profile! How much are you willing to pay for your soulmate? Hinge truly knows just how to dangle the false promise of true love in front of your watering mouth to get you to open your wallet.
Hinge rewards you for engaging and punishes you for your disobedience. Hinge claims that the more you use the app, the better your chances of finding a meaningful connection. Regular activity (consistently swiping and engaging in conversations) appears to boost the quality of potential matches, sometimes resulting in a streak of highly attractive profiles. However, infrequent use generates a completely different result. Students are punished for their busy schedules, as rarely opening the app or failing to engage with matches results in their feed declining in quality, as Hinge’s algorithm deprioritises users who provide minimal data for it to work with. This raises questions about whether the app is designed to foster relationships or simply keep users hooked.
Obviously frustrated with the algorithm’s poor matchmaking skills, users feel compelled to end the cycle. This, however, won't work. In fact, if you delete and redownload the app multiple times in an attempt to reset your algorithm, you’ll likely find yourself banned, without a verification code being sent to your phone, no way to access your old account, and no phone number to make a new one.
Hinge doesn’t want your long-term success. Hinge knows who you’ve been out with. Hinge knows who you’ve chatted to. Hinge knows who it didn’t work out with. So it continues to give you more and more people who are similar to those you’ve progressed with, aka, those you’re incompatible with. Hinge considers every one of your failed relationships a win, so it continues to give you more people who are similar to your ex, people who you only ended up working well with short-term, to keep the sick cycle in motion.
There is no hope. No matter what you do, Hinge hates you and will continue to force-feed you false hope and empty promises until your heart rots inside your chest. So what can you do?
Go out. Talk to the finance bros of Building 11. Love yourself. Flirt. Hold eye-contact with that one cutie in your tutorial. Make sure your foundation matches your neck. Brush your teeth. Join clubs and societies. Ask questions. Delete the apps. Write for Vertigo ;)
Best of luck x