Feb. 14, 2026, 5:06 a.m. ET
Sometimes I wonder if I will believe in love. When I scroll my various social media feeds, or have drinks with friends at a swanky, downtown restaurant, I’m bombarded by the woes of modern dating: women with clouded judgment, men who don’t know what they want, women who want it all and men who don’t give enough. We’re all so grotesquely misaligned.
Hinge is the third-largest online dating platform in the United States, after Tinder and Bumble. Marketing itself as a dating app that’s “designed to be deleted,” Hinge takes a more thoughtful approach to online dating. Beyond the standard photos-plus-bio format of other apps, Hinge lets users add prompts to their profiles and show a glimpse of their personality with cheeky answers, among other features. One would think Hinge’s attention to intention creates an atmosphere of authenticity where genuine connections are found and flourish. In reality, it seems to have the opposite effect.
Many of my peers who subject themselves to the app have nothing to show for it except unanswered messages, terrible first dates and traumatizing situationships. The journalist (or Carrie Bradshaw) in me wants to get to the bottom of this. How can an app with so much potential leave users with such bad outcomes?
Because I refuse to download the app myself, I had no choice but to put my degree to use and create a survey for my Hinge-addicted friends to sound off.
Why are we even on Hinge?
From Match.com to Tinder, online dating spaces have taken many forms.
It certainly doesn’t help that most of our forays into romance are relegated to the digital sphere. Gone are the storybook meet-cutes of our ancestors (I’m told they still happen – allegedly – just not as frequently); here to stay is the age of the romantic pen pal where our phones act as conduits for relationships. If reading people’s intentions IRL was hard enough, we’re now tasked with deciphering the Morse code of online messages.
Some have even given up on humans altogether and would rather fraternize with user-aggrandizing AI chatbots. What a time to be alive.
When asked why they prefer Hinge over apps like Tinder and Bumble, my test subjects (friends) shared similar responses.
Most turned away from Tinder since it seems to promote hookups, not deep connections. Female responders weren’t drawn to Bumble’s girlboss gimmick of having women message matches first. To them, it’s just more work for women, who already carry much of the emotional labor in relationships.
One responder put it succinctly: “Tinder is too much for hookups, and Bumble is just embarrassing because you won’t catch me making the first move.”
Hinge allows anyone to make the first move by sending a like or a rose (kinda like a premium “like” to really get someone’s attention). Setting up a Hinge profile also requires more thought, unlike Tinder, making it less convenient for those seeking something quick. Some survey recipients said it can take up to a day to perfect their profile. They spend hours going back and forth with pictures and prompts, even asking friends for help, to make sure they convey the breadth of their personality. All this is done to strike a delicate balance between being carefully curated but not too contrived.
“I’ve had some male friends choose photos that I look stereotypically ‘better’ in,” Hollyann wrote. “But I see authenticity and ‘not-taking-it-as-seriously-as-the-algorithm-wants-you-to’ as the two things that can make your experience better.”
Is Hinge a more wholesome dating app? It’s hiding something.
The problem comes in when not everyone on the app is as hot and sexy and smart and interesting and amazing as my wonderful survey responders. Despite attempts to foster thoughtfulness, many Hinge users still have superficial intentions.
“It’s a bit more camouflaged in its ‘swipe for a hookup’ undertone,” Hollyann wrote. “Whether or not it actually is the more ‘wholesome’ option of the apps, it does a good job looking like it.”
A couple of turns on the app and you’ll see through the smoke. When asked what problems they tend to run into, responders overwhelmingly had similar experiences: unanswered messages, boring profiles, dry or even rude conversations, and users only looking for a hookup.
Another issue users tend to run into is how limiting the free version of Hinge is. Users are only able to send eight likes per day. For unlimited likes, users must pay to upgrade to either HingeX or Hinge+. All but one of my survey responders admitted to paying to play; she canceled it after one day and called it “one of the more embarrassing things I’ve put on my credit card.”
When it comes to relationships born from Hinge, experiences are mixed. Some met their current partner on Hinge, while others have only gone on a few dates. Some have never gone on a date, while others have only been traumatised by potential suitors.
One called the situationship she met on Hinge “one of the worst relationships in my life.”
“No one deserves to be someone’s ‘maybe’ and their emotional chew toy for such a prolonged period as an adult. Communication and mutual understanding is basic human relationship etiquette,” Aline wrote.
Another called the experience “sickening.”
Regardless, my masochistic friends have yet to swear off Hinge completely.
“I think I just get bored and want validation so I get back on it,” Trisha wrote. “But then it gets so disrespectful because people I’m not attracted to start sending me likes, and I just delete it.”
Another had a more brazen answer: “What keeps me coming back is the same thing that keeps gamblers at slot machines – you just never know.”
It’s not me, it’s you
In going through my survey responses, one thing became abundantly clear: No matter where my generation, or any generation, goes to find love, our Achilles’ heel will keep us stumbling through romance. Our fear of intimacy, lack of communication and aversion to earnestness will keep love at arm’s length, whether online or in real life.
As convenient as it may be, we can’t blame all our dating woes on an app. Hinge is a two-dimensional platform full of three-dimensional people. Sure, the app could use some improvements, but users’ experiences on the app are a reflection of the people on it, not necessarily the app itself. I’ve met people who married someone they found online. I’ve met people who fell in love at a boba shop.
My friend Hollyann put it best: “A relationship is going to work out regardless of how the people in it met.”
Love will find you where it’s meant to.
Kofi Mframa is a columnist and digital producer for USA TODAY and the USA TODAY Network. He will not be on Hinge anytime soon.
