Last semester, in one of my classes, I got into a bit of a heated debate about dating apps and how they manufacture the feeling of scarcity.
This guy had a lot to say about how “only 1% of guys get 80% of women’s attention,” plus a handful of other statistical “facts.” And honestly? It got me thinking. Not about whether women are secretly running an underground system of coordinated swipes, but about something way more interesting:
How much of the weirdness of dating apps is real, and how much is the app being programmed to feel that way?
Because dating apps don’t just introduce you to people. They shape your emotions. They can make you feel like you’re auditioning for human worthiness in 30 seconds. They can make you feel ugly on Tuesday and irresistible on Thursday for no apparent reason. And after one of my good friends, Hayley, wrote her article about Hinge, and, matter of fact, after hearing her complain about it all the time. I felt inspired.
Dating apps aren’t “broken.” They’re optimized.
A lot of dating app frustration comes from this assumption: the app’s goal is to help you find a partner. But most apps are free (or free-ish), and free apps typically have a different goal: keep you using the product.
And the business model makes that pretty clear. Match Group (which owns Tinder and Hinge) openly tells investors that Tinder users can buy premium features like Boosts and Super Likes on a pay-per-use basis, a.k.a, paying to be seen. Bumble’s annual report describes paid features like Spotlight, which pushes you toward the top of the stack, so more people see you.
So when an app limits your likes, hides “who liked you,” or sprinkles in paid perks that promise better outcomes, it’s not random. It’s a system that nudges you toward the same conclusion: maybe you just need to pay a little to fix it.
The Reward Loop
If dating apps sometimes feel addictive, it’s not because you’re weak-willed. It’s because they’re built around a classic psychology loop: intermittent reinforcement. That’s the same principle behind why people pull slot machine levers—the reward is unpredictable, so your brain keeps checking “just one more time.”
Multiple investigations and analyses have pointed out that modern dating apps increasingly lean into game-like mechanics and paid “extras” that resemble gambling products in how they monetize attention and uncertainty. And research on “problematic Tinder use” treats compulsive use as a real pattern worth studying. National Geographic has also reported on how dating apps can engage reward pathways and compulsive checking behaviors, even if the precise neurochemistry isn’t as simple as “dopamine = swipe.”
In other words: if you feel like you’re in a loop of swipe → hope → nothing → swipe harder… you’re not imagining it. That’s the loop.
The scarcity is the point
Dating apps are basically scarcity machines in three main ways:
- Paywalls around information
“See who likes you” is often locked behind a premium. The app can technically resolve your uncertainty instantly, but chooses not to because uncertainty keeps you engaged (and sometimes paying).
- Limited daily likes / limited reach
Many apps ration how many people you can like per day (unless you pay). This turns basic interaction into a resource, so every decision feels higher stakes than it should.
- Artificial competition for attention
Boosts, Super Likes, Spotlight, Roses – these are paid ways to interrupt the normal feed and buy priority placement. Again: attention becomes an economy.
If the whole thing feels oddly competitive, that’s because it is. Visibility is rationed, and attention is treated like a limited resource.
So… is it true that “the top 1% of men get all the matches”?
The famous “80/20” claim (or “1% get 80%”) floats around constantly, but it’s often passed along without context, and it’s frequently based on informal analyses, anecdotes, or old blog-style interpretations, not rigorous, universal law.
What does stronger evidence suggest?
Attention on dating platforms is often unevenly distributed; a small group gets a lot of likes/matches. That’s not shocking; popularity is lopsided everywhere in life. But real-world matching outcomes don’t automatically follow the most dramatic internet version of that story.
A 2025 peer-reviewed PLOS One study using real swipe behavior on a Czech dating app found patterns that complicate the “women only chase the top men” narrative: men tended to “punch up” (aiming for more desirable women), while mutual matches tended to be between people with more similar levels of desirability, and rejection dynamics shaped outcomes.
Translation: people aim high, reality aims back.
And here’s the most important part: even if dating apps amplify inequality, that still doesn’t translate into anyone being “owed” attention. Which brings me to my least favorite genre of internet dating discourse.
“male loneliness” Is Not An Excuse
Yes, lots of people feel lonely. Yes, dating apps can intensify rejection. And yes, the apps may amplify the harshest parts of “looks-first” culture.
But loneliness is not a coupon you redeem for someone else’s body, time, or emotional labor.
If you’re using “the algorithm” as a reason to act bitter, entitled, or cruel—congrats, you’ve misunderstood both women and technology. You’re not being oppressed by Hinge or women. You’re being inconvenienced by a business model that prioritizes engagement and revenue. Even if the marketing promises you’ll “delete the app,” the revenue model depends on you staying long enough to generate value.
Also, scrolling Hinge Reddit for five minutes will teach you something the manosphere will never admit: people respond to effort. Initiate. Ask a real question. Make your profile approachable. Be specific enough that someone can actually talk to you without having to carry the entire conversation.
Even OkCupid data (yes, from the company itself, but still informative) has found that sending the first message increases odds of a reply, which is obvious, but apparently needs to be scientifically confirmed for the population that thinks “hey” qualifies as a conversation starter.
What the apps reward (and what you can do about it)
Here’s the part that actually helps: dating apps tend to reward behaviors that keep you and others engaged.
Instead of letting the app dictate how you feel about yourself, it helps to understand what it’s actually incentivizing:
- Make it easy to start a conversation
Prompts that give something specific to respond to are basically conversation handles. Profiles that provide concrete details lower the barrier to entry for conversation. Specificity helps. Mystery, in this context, usually doesn’t.
- Don’t treat matches like collectibles
If you match and never speak, you’re not “winning.” You’re hoarding. (And yes, the app loves that, because it keeps you on the app.)
- Move off-app faster than feels polite
Not in a creepy way, just in recognition that these apps aren’t designed for sustained, meaningful conversation. While you’re talking to one person, the app is actively notifying you about others.
- Stop outsourcing your self-worth to a ranking system
Apps can change who you see (and who sees you) based on behavior, engagement, and paid boosts. So a “dry week” isn’t necessarily a referendum on your attractiveness; it may be the app’s distribution system doing what distribution systems do. Hinge openly talks about using machine learning to predict who you’ll interact with, and it’s designed to prioritize what it thinks will generate engagement.
Which means you’re not unattractive. You’re just not currently profitable.
The real twist: the algorithm can be manipulative, and you still have agency
Two things can be true at the same time:
- Dating apps are engineered to keep you swiping, create scarcity, and sell visibility.
- You still control how you show up—your profile, your messages, your boundaries, and your willingness to treat other people like humans.
So no, the “science of dating apps” isn’t an excuse to become a villain. But it is a reason to stop treating app outcomes like a true measure of your desirability or your destiny.
Because the most brutal thing about dating apps is not that they make dating hard.
It’s that they make you forget that dating is supposed to be human.