An App for Intent: A Critique of Dating apps

In Greek mythology, man was created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. The Gods, fearful of their power, had man split in twain and condemned to spend their lives in search of their other halves. In modern times, this imperative has been emblematic of one’s search for love (of every kind). Unsatisfied by serendipitous encounters, mixed signals and the limitations of one’s social milieu; modernity has produced a technological solution, a ‘gateway’ to love – online dating. The designs of dating apps have reshaped and reflected societal definitions of romantic relationships, whilst simultaneously inviting and recontextualizing the pros and cons of online social interactions. I will be arguing that dating apps have allowed for increased clarity in reading and communicating character and intention amongst its users, stacking the deck in our favour and increasing the likelihood of a rendezvous with our ‘other half’­ – or at least some approximation of it.

‘Fast’ & ‘Slow’ dating

It all beings with an app, or which app. Each dating app is a product, an extension of the company that birthed it. Hence, each app’s user experience is a product of a reciprocal relationship between user base and user interface – mediated by a corporate ethos. Even as users engage with dating apps with intentions and expectations, so do the companies that birthed them. At scale, designed interactions shapes, and is shaped by, the userbase of each dating app.

On dating apps, communication is central to the attainment of a user’s goal. However, with pre-match communication often being constrained by a lack of a direct-message feature, users are forced to signal their intentions through affordances in the app’s user interface. This manifests in how a user’s profile is displayed, in terms of the visibility of profile information (interests vs photos), actions (swipe or tap) used to indicate their interest and the ability to write an introductory message to another user – amongst many others. These designed interfaces are a reflection of the mission and ‘affinity’ of an app’s guiding philosophy, be it to ‘fast’ or ‘slow’ dating (Paul 2018). A user’s dating app of choice ties into their views, intentions, and values perceived and otherwise; hence, the medium users seek romance with sends a clear messag­e – one massaged by interaction design.

Tinder & Bumble

The progenitor of modern heterosexual dating apps; Tinder popularized both online dating and the ‘swipe’ interaction. The poster-boy for ‘fast’ dating, its user interface (UI) is designed as such. In the other corner, we have Bumble, founded by an ex-Tinder co-founder who also sued Tinder for sexual discrimination after she left the company; both apps have shared history and even interaction styles. However, ideological differences have shaped each app to differ subtly in how they influence their users.

(Fig 1-3. Tinder messaging & homepage screens)

Designed to be frictionless, after uploading one photo and verifying a phone number, Tinder users can begin swiping. Completion of their profile lands them on the homepage where attention is commanded by another’s profile photo which takes up 80% of the UI. At the top of the image, there is an inconspicuously placed tracker that indicates the number of images/pages the viewed profile contains; while at the bottom of the image there is text which contains descriptors/location, other Instagram/Spotify integrations, or the occasional hobbies/interests. User actions include tapping left or right to view other photos, swipe right to ‘like’, swipe left to ‘pass’, and swipe up to ‘super-like’ a profile, which informs its recipient that you have ‘liked’ their profile. Tapping on small ‘information’ icon will expand a profile’s details, though lack of visibility for said function seemingly discourages users from discovering it; for pausing to view anther’s profile in detail may threaten to slow a user’s rate of swiping.

(Fig 4-9 Bumble match screen & homepage)

Decidedly, Bumble is in many ways similar to Tinder, in both user interactions (swipes and taps) and interface (large profile images). However, it differs in how trackers are made significantly noticeable with a dark gradient tint on the photo under it while tapping to the next image might reveal a profile’s ‘flavour text’, overlayed on the last profile image. These snippets of information may include either an answer to a question prompt or personal information such as an individual’s height, romantic expectations, political leanings, religious beliefs, fitness habits and education level amongst others.

UI Analysis

‘Fast’ dating apps prioritize ease-of-use. Directing user attention to a profile’s first photo, name (for identification) and age beside it (for legality) while saving time in animating in the next profile as the user acts to do so, they attempt to encourage users to ‘think less, swipe more’. Even with the ‘super-like’, the fact that likes sent are hidden till they are mutually received. These apps provide no further means to communicate an intention to match, hence faring poorly in pre-match communication when compared to ‘slow’ dating apps, while simultaneously providing a means for monetization. Despite so, differences in tracker visibility and profile descriptions construe a swipe to communicate and be understood differently on Bumble vs Tinder.

On Tinder, the lack of tracker visibility and profile descriptions indicates that its places a large emphasis on profile photos, as if displaying a physical form in a storefront, commodifying the body (Sion 2019). This inability to communicate personality and prioritizes a frictionless experience that encourages judgments based on the most visible aspect of a user’s profile, their attractiveness in their first photo. In hindering users from indicating their romantic expectations while making the scant information they can include less visible, users are to not only less intentional with each ‘swipe’ but also tend to receive poorer matches with unequal expectations, for users swipe solely based on their superficial preferences, failing to consider their compatibility with the other. Even as they are empowered to send and receive a multitude of likes/matches quickly over a short period, this low-stakes means of signalling interest in another and poor match-compatibility may ‘devalue’ romance, in time encouraging a superficial view of ‘cheapened’ romances (Mohammed 2018) that emphasizes superficiality, embraces casual relations, and prioritizes one’s desires over another.

Bumble’s UI differs from Tinder’s in terms of tracker visibility and availability of profile information. By increasing visibility of profile information, it encourages users to take time to explore another’s profile, this leads users gaining a fuller picture of another’s character; in doing so, themselves having a better idea in their own compatibility. The prominent placement of profile descriptions presents information that are typically hard to come by without first engaging in conversation. In this sense, swiping right could be construed as an act of acceptance/affirmation and attraction of and for another; if matched these snippets of information would prove useful for initiating conversation and leading to the eventual in-person rendezvous. Theoretically, such design elements should lead to better matches as users indicate interest in another not just based on physical attractiveness, but also their character, personality and quirks; arguably leading to a healthier and more considerate view of romantic relationships.

Matching

After a heterosexual match is made on Bumble, women will have a 24-hour window to send the first message, opening a chat room; (free users can extend the match for 24 hours) if a message is not sent in that time, the match expires. This creates a sense of urgency, and agency, for women to open the conversation; aligning with the founder’s agenda of female empowerment (Laporte 2019). This stand in contrast with Tinder, where though no similar interaction is implemented, it has been an implicit rule for men send the first message; in line with traditional gender roles of women to wait, and men to make the first move (Moore 2018). This role reversal could be read as an initiative to level the playing field, balance power dynamics, and reverse gendered expectations (Laporte 2019). In a way, by using Bumble, users signal, and are perceived to, buy into the company’s vision, establishing a certain type of persona and set of (feminist) values in its userbase.

Initiating conversation has been a point of friction cross all dating apps, hence besides a timer, Bumble also allows users to answer a question to open conversations. Till the other party has answered the question as well, answers will be hidden. This engenders curiosity for recipients of such an opener, and answers given and revealed will, in turn, encourage a response that will spark a good conversation. No such prompts exist on Tinder outside of a snarky comment goading the user to send the first message.

Conclusion

Both Tinder and Bumble represent different sides of the ‘fast’ dating coin. With Tinder’s emphasis on physical attractiveness and ease-of-use, it has been criticized to have cultivated a superficial view of romance in its users, both on and off the app. Whereas Bumble’s emphasis on the elements deemed as distractions on Tinder has led to more mindful interactions on pre and post-match. Regardless of the differences in each app’s view of online dating, similarities in its user interactions indicate the shared a belief that dating is ultimately a numbers game – the best they can do is help users be mindful of counting.

Hinge and Coffee-Meets-Bagel(CMB)

Changing societal values reflect in the design of dating apps. Despite the popularity of Bumble and Tinder, they may not be suitable for all users. Enter the ‘slow’ dating app.

(Fig 10-13. Hinge homepage / pre and post match messaging)

(Fig 14-17. CMB homepage / pre and post match messaging)

The advent of such apps is led by Hinge and CMB. Both apps share the mission of creating ’authentic’ connections, with Hinge even stating that its app is one ‘designed to be deleted’ (Hinge 2020).

Both apps begin with removing the notion of the ‘swipe’, opting for users to tap on a ‘heart’ or ‘cross’ icon to send a ‘like’ or ‘pass’. Next, they also allow/prompt users to send an introductory message to a prospective match, increasing the likelihood of users to match by allowing for users a higher fidelity and lower pressure means to communicate intention, personality, and character while reducing the fear of rejection-via-non-response; supposing a match, the conversation begins with a response to the message initially sent, reducing the friction and pressure on either user to start the conversation. Lastly, both apps have adopted to display an individual’s full profile on one page and for it to be navigated with a downwards scroll.

UI Analysis

Designed to be ‘slow’, both apps have opted for the last profile to be animated out after a user taps on ‘like’ or ‘pass’ before revealing the next profile, rather than have user interaction and animation be run simultaneously as per the ‘swipe’, allowing for slower, more thoughtful ‘likes’ being sent. Additionally, display of full profile on one page encourages downward scrolling, a user action largely different from the ‘tap’, improving the visibility of a user’s profile images and ’flavour text’. Combined, they help slow down how users interact with the app, making each ‘like’ or ‘pass’ more informed and intentioned.

(Fig 18. Hinge likes tab / Fig 19. CMB ‘likes you’ indicator)

However, these apps differ slightly in the way of on CMB, users only get to view a stack of 26 profiles in their ‘suggested’ tab, refreshing after 24 hours; As such numbers not explicitly stated in other apps, this may encourage users to weigh their choices carefully. In this stack, all likes are visible (Fig 18) notifying users that their profile has been liked by another in their stack. The ‘swipe’/tap interaction to reveal the next photo. Through the number of likes per time period is not visible on Hinge, all likes on Hinge are ‘super likes’; ‘liking’ another user will notify them of another’s interest while offering them the option to match. Variations in user interaction (tapping vs swiping) and interface (vertical scroll vs tapping) can be seen an effort to both remap learned interactions, introduce microfrictions in user experience, and differentiate ‘slow’ from ‘fast’ dating apps.

Conclusion

Each dating app is built with different goals in mind, although perverted by the need to monetize, the interactions built into each app and how they are marketed/designed leads to the expectations in their users and more subliminally influence how users view online dating, romance, themselves, and each other. With the users and the product offered on dating apps are essentially one in the same, users in a way ‘consume’ each other as we do goods in a capitalistic market, arguably commodifying love and trivializing romance. However, moral judgements of what romance ‘should be’ varies across demographics, generations, and geographies; and as it is with gaps in the market, there is an app for that. In ‘selling’ their ideal of dating, app design and image leads to a congregating of like-minded/valued singles that build a userbase with a shared dating ‘culture’ and expectations in romance, both on and off the app. Perpetuated by a self-reinforcing cycle of like attracts like, a dating app shapes and is shaped by a corporate ethos, app design, and its user base.

Catfishing & Deception

Inherent in every invention is its capacity for disaster. The ‘integral accident’ (Virilio 2008) of the dating app is it role in re-contextualizing and amplifying the ‘disasters’ of emotional and physical harm oft associated with interactions in the digital space of social media.

Catfishing is the practice of setting up a false personal profile on a social networking site for the purpose of fraud and deception. Motives for doing so may vary from deliberately malicious, such as manipulation for monetary or sexual gain (Chandler 2020), to something more benign such an overreach in depicting the ‘best version of themselves’ (Vanman 2018). Afforded by anonymity, deception is commonplace in online interactions; however with interactions on dating apps built on substantial amounts of trust, emotional investment that concluded in an eventual physical rendezvous; Deception in this context, when discovered, not only results in mental and emotional implications but also implicates an app’s trustworthiness in user’s eyes.

Most apps have turned to ‘verification’ as a means to combat this issue, ranging from uploading a photo in specific poses to ‘earn’ a ‘verification badge’ on their profiles, to requiring users to snap an in-app selfie before opening a chat with their match (Weiss 2016), these countermeasures hinge on facial recognition technologies of matching a selfie to a user’s uploaded photos or specific pose. Such invisible countermeasures shape a user interaction, through both a visible ‘badge of trust’ on user profile to less visibly safeguarding, to some extent, form catfishing. For intention can only be communicated and received when both parties are – mostly – telling the truth.

User Preferences

Preferences goes a long way in improving one’s compatibility with their matches. Besides the typical filters for age, education level, drinking/smoking habits, faith and political leanings seen in the apps we have covered before (Fig 20-23), OkCupid uses an extensive battery of over 500 questions, on top of a comprehensive set of preferences to determine a user’s ideal match. Through allowing users to answer questions and also weigh the importance of another’s answers, this feature named ‘IQupid’ aims to both ‘level-up a user’s online dating IQ’; while collecting valuable data points to determine a user’s ideal match, or minimally a match they can make conversation with.

(Fig 20-23. (left to right) Tinder, Hinge and Bumble preferences)

(Fig 24-27. (left to right) Okcupid preferences and IQupid sample questions)

Amongst OkCupid’s preferences menu, notable preferences include one’s romantic expectations, also present in Bumble, which along with other preferences (religion, politics), hobbies, and profile description are clear indicators of intention and character. A right swipe could indicate acceptance of one’s romantic expectations (amongst other expectations), in theory increasing match compatibility by ensure profiles with similar values and goals are matched, leading to romantic success on the app – regardless the shape it takes.

Swipe Night

‘Swipe Night’ is a first-person interactive choose-your-own-story-adventure where your choices determine both the story you experience and your matches after the event. Set in the context of an imminent doomsday-via-asteroid scenario, users are forced to make choices such as ‘Save the puppy/Save a stranger’ or ‘Journey alone/Look for friends.’

(Fig 28. Tinder’s Swipe Night)

Adopting familiar methods of interaction (i.e. the swipe), a user’s choices speak volumes of their character and values beyond the self-reportage of questions asked by the app or their preferences for an ideal partner. With how it has been highlighted that users are more flexible on their preferences (i.e. smoking/drinking habits) than they believe, an indirect means of determining one’s core values helps Tinder truly understand one’s ideal type (Taha Yasseri 2018). At the event’s conclusion, users are matched with others who have made similar choices, indirectly matching users of similar values/character, improving match compatibility while simultaneously providing an apt conversation starter.

Beyond this event elucidating rare moments of honesty from its users, I will like to situate this experience in the ending I arrived at. Personally, I ‘Saved the World’ through choices made moments to asteroid-impact. I had rejected company of friends, called and failed to reach family, instead spoke to and told an elderly stranger ‘I love you 3000’. The stranger, who happened to be a retired superhero, moved by my small act of humanity returned to active service and delivered the world from Armageddon. This turned out to be the ending less than 1% of users receive, and amongst eight possibilities, the only one where the apocalypse was averted (Tinder 2019). Having being statistically shown to diverge from the values of the norm I was interested in others who have arrived at a similar conclusion. Although I have not received any matches yet (shouldn’t have been so special), this digital experience illustrates that values and character are not aspects-of-self determined in a vacuum, not easily read and recorded through self-reportage or day-to-day app use, but instead observed through our choices in (hypothetical) scenarios. Digital experiences such as ‘Swipe Night’ are both optimal for gathering illuminating user data, improving match compatibility, engaging users and providing them with the strongest means to signal ‘who they are’ to others per-match; matching on such basis leading to conversations of the reasons behind each user choice. Ironically created by an app that affords the least in communicating character, ‘Swipe Night’ illustrates that choices stem from one’s values that in turn, informs one’s character, intentions, and expectations romantic or otherwise of both ourselves and others.

Closing Note

Dating apps may be a necessary evolution for modern romances. From being previously stigmatized to widely accepted, and despite its positives, it is not without fault. From larger issues of anonymity, self-esteem and deception to more nuanced ones of how healthy relationships should be defined; they doubtless help facilitate communication and human connection by introducing users to options they would not have had otherwise. Through leveraging on designed interactions, digital experiences and algorithms; they have helped bridge chasms and break down barriers between individuals leading to a resumption of what would rightfully have been a pair – for at least temporarily.

Bibliography

1. Paul, Kari. 2018. The Wall Street Journal. August 28. Accessed November 1, 2020. https://www.wsj.com/articles/tired-of-swiping-right-some-singles-try-slow-dating-1535468479.

2. Sion, Graţiela. 2019. "Commodifying Intimate Relationships through Geosocial Networking Mobile Apps: Data-driven Dating, Sexual Sociality, and Online Body Objectification." Journal of Research in Gender Studies Vol. 9 (No. 2): 78-84.

3. Laporte, Nicole. 2019. Inside Bumble CEO Whitney Wolfe Herd’s mission to build the “female internet”. September 09. Accessed Nov 2020. https://www.fastcompany.com/90396193/inside-bumble-ceo-whitney-wolfe-herds-mission-to-build-the-female-internet.

4. n.d. https://www.oii.ox.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Computational-Courtship-Dinh-et-al-25-Sept-2018.pdf.

5. Sarch, Amy. 2006. "Making the Connection: Single Women's Use of the Telephone in Dating Relationships With Men." Journal of Communication Vol. 43 (No. 2): 128-144.

6. 2020. Hinge. https://hinge.co.

7. Tinder. 2019. Here’s What Surviving The End Of The World In The Swipe Night Finale Looked Like. October 29. Accessed November 1, 2020. https://swipelife.tinder.com/post/swipe-night-episode-4-choices.

8. Moore, Lane. 2018. Some men want women to message first on Tinder. Here’s why we don’t. March 15. Accessed November 2020. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/soloish/wp/2018/03/15/some-men-on-tinder-want-women-to-send-the-first-message-heres-why-that-doesnt-work/.

9. Mohammed, Farah. 2018. Do Dating Apps Cheapen Love? September 6. Accessed November 2020, 2020. https://daily.jstor.org/do-dating-apps-cheapen-love/.