All rights reserved. And while I wish I had a more promising outcome to report, the interaction was…disappointing to say the least. He had to have been nine or 10 years my senior—showed zero interest in my interests or what I was writing, for that matter —and after offering me a Chanel bag to join him for dinner at Nobu, it quickly became clear he was looking for a sugar baby. Still, after politely declining his invitation, I was left with a sinking feeling: Is this what the future of dating looks like?
God help us all. This fear comes on the heels of the recent decline in dating apps. I tapped as many single men and women as I could from New York to San Francisco, spanning from Gen Z 23 to 27 years old to Millenials 28 to 36 years old. I wanted to know: When was your last first date, and how did you meet? While a majority of the 60 people I polled said they were still using the apps and meeting at bars more on that below , I was surprised to find 20 percent of singles had the same answer: mutual friends.
She gave him my number, and we went out the following weekend. The more interesting responses were from the men, however. Out of the 37 straight men I spoke to, eight of them all Gen Z were using Instagram in lieu of dating apps.
So, I followed her and looked through some pictures. Right away, I see my college friend Nicole in a bunch of her photos.
I texted Nicole and asked if Carly was single. Nicole said yes, so I messaged Carly and asked if she wanted to grab a drink. We have our second date on Thursday this week. This seemed to echo a ubiquitous theme in each response: People want to date outside of the apps—even if 26 percent were still using them. On a personal note, I can agree that the anatomy of dating apps have changed in the last four years. After I graduated college via zoom in , Hinge was like a life raft when it came to meeting someone new.
