Whether you’re starting first year, second, third or beyond, one of the most exciting opportunities that university provides is a fresh landscape to meet new people – often a welcome change from the familiarity of hometown faces. In speaking to people last year, I realised just how many uni students use Hinge as a way to do this. Founded in 2012, Hinge is a highly popular dating app that is “designed to be deleted”. Whilst it seems like nearly everyone I’ve spoken to has used it at some point, Ofcom revealed a dip of around 131,000 Hinge users from 2023 to 2024, suggesting a general downwards shift in interest towards the app.
I’d often considered whether I should download Hinge myself: on one hand, it seems like a fun, low-commitment way to get to know people. On the other, I recall the egregious profile responses and ‘horror story’ dates I’ve been told about countless times by friends. And so, I ask them… should I download it? This question generally incites one of two responses: “Yeah, it’s a bit of fun”, or “Absolutely not”. Hearing such varied experiences of Hinge has left me wondering: what do university students find from their online dating experiences, and more importantly, what are they actually looking for?
If nothing else, you can always count on Hinge to provide a good story. Admittedly, it can become a bit of a game, scrolling through my friends’ accounts whilst laughing our heads off at the most ridiculous messages. I know how bad it sounds, but if you don’t laugh at the obscenity of some people’s attempted pick-up lines, you’ll cry. In the same day, my best friend got told she told she looked gorgeous by one man, and “well-used” by another. A common reflection seems to be to take it all with a pinch of salt; “Go on some dates, get some free meals, but don’t get your hopes up”.
There’s been plenty of times when I’ve come close to setting up a Hinge profile (especially after a few drinks). What always stopped me was the prompt questions: “The dorkiest thing about me is…”, “I’d fall for you if…”, “My greatest strength is…” and so on. Perhaps it’s the vulnerability that I don’t like, but frankly, the whole thing makes me cringe. In this sense, I suppose I take dating apps far too seriously. When asking why people use Hinge, the most common response was along the lines of it just being ‘a bit of fun’. However, some others seemed not to engage with the app for this exact reason, referring to a “lack of authenticity”. This leads to a bigger conversation concerning intimacy and commitment within a generation that embraces hook-up culture and sexual fluidity.
It is undeniable that Hinge, like all other dating apps, has a certain transactional quality that reflects the commodification of all spheres of life – even relationships. Liking or turning someone down based on a few photos and prompts feels as though it’s encouraging a culture of superficiality. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if this is such a bad thing? Sociologist Anthony Giddens famously refers to the ‘pure relationship’, in which participants only stay for as long as the relationship remains mutually beneficial and fulfilling. If Hinge allows users the freedom to explicitly state what level of commitment they are looking for, and both parties are on the same page, then what’s so wrong with having a bit of fun at our age? For the sake of this article, I’ve decided to give it a go; there is something to be said for the validation and connections that are made on Hinge, even if they are short-lived.
Equally, just because most university students start out using Hinge for fun doesn’t mean that things can’t become more serious. One of my friends who previously used Hinge very casually is currently getting to know someone from university who they met through the app, unexpectedly forming a really genuine connection. Some even meet their long-term partners on Hinge, proving that there truly can be success stories – granted, it’s few, but they’re out there!
