Dating apps don't sell couples, they sell dopamine
Two out of three Tinder users will never go on a real date. The business isn't the match — it's the hope that one is coming. The enshittification of these services has created a slot machine that monetizes loneliness better than any other digital product. The average user isn't looking for a partner; they're looking for the validation of a like, the dopamine hit of a match, a refuge from boredom. And the apps know it.
The business model: selling smoke with an algorithm
The original article in El Confidencial correctly diagnoses the drift: dating apps are no longer channels for meeting people, but attention economies. But it falls short. The real business isn't the premium subscription — it's keeping the user inside. Every swipe is a bet with no prize. For the average man, the app is a casino with odds calculated so he always loses. Women, on the other hand, receive an overabundance of attention that turns dating into a process of reverse selection. The result is a market where supply and demand never meet.
The distortion is greater than in any other market. Before, the "local market" (village, neighborhood, university) produced matches based on imperfect but real information. Now, technology has globalized the catalog and inflated expectations. Everyone believes they can aim higher, but the reality is that 80% of attention goes to the 20% most attractive profiles. Everyone else is left in the queue of nothing.
The mating bubble: euphoria, disillusionment, exhaustion
The cycle is the classic one of any bubble: first, euphoria and belief in the new paradigm ("infinite connections"); then, the collision with reality (fake profiles, digital fatigue); finally, disillusionment and quitting. But quitting is no solution: many come back, because the alternative is loneliness and the lack of places to socialize. Society no longer offers low-pressure spaces to meet people. Village bars, local festivals, town squares have disappeared or been hyper-regulated. Dating apps were the patch, but the patch has torn.
The future points to a new phase: settling out of exhaustion. Couples who don't seek each other out, but resign themselves. Truces, not alliances. Relationships that last as long as it takes for a slightly better option to appear. Biology and loneliness end up forcing a "settling" that isn't a virtue, but fatigue.
The question left hanging is who will fill the void. If apps don't work for dating and physical spaces have died, where will people meet? The metaverse, waifubots, or maybe a return to common sense. But common sense is the first refugee of modernity.
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