Breaking Free from Dating Apps: It’s time to Choose Real Community

For years, dating apps were a fixture in my life. Like many in the LGBTQIA+ community, I turned to them out of convenience, curiosity, and, if I’m honest, loneliness. But instead of connection, they left me feeling worse about myself — frustrated, unseen, and, at times, even dehumanised.

I didn’t like how people spoke to me. I didn’t like the unsolicited messages, the transactional nature of it all, and the way rejection — whether overt or subtle — chipped away at my self-esteem. And I definitely didn’t like the way I started seeing myself through the lens of a system that had no stake in my well-being. It became clear that these platforms weren’t designed to help me find love or connection. They were designed to keep me swiping, scrolling, and ultimately, feeling like I needed them.

So, I left.

The Mental Toll of the Dating App Machine

Dating apps thrive on engagement, not fulfillment. They make super profits off our frustration, our loneliness, and, frankly, our addiction to attention. Research has shown that these platforms can lead to increased body dissatisfaction, anxiety, and depression, particularly in queer spaces where social validation is often tied to appearance.

The rejection cycle is brutal. Sometimes, it's explicit — being ghosted, ignored, or met with cruel words. Other times, it's quieter, like when a match fizzles into nothing, leaving you wondering if you weren’t ‘good enough’ that day. Over time, the constant reinforcement of superficiality can warp how we view not only ourselves but each other.

For me, the realisation that I had started measuring my own worth by how many matches, messages, or meaningless compliments I received was the breaking point. I had already been working on myself — mentally, physically, and professionally — but dating apps made me feel like I was never quite enough. And I realised that wasn’t a me problem. It was an us problem.

Why This Matters for the LGBTQIA+ Community

We often talk about how LGBTQIA+ mental health statistics are worse than those of our heterosexual counterparts. Higher rates of substance abuse, loneliness, depression, and suicide persist in our community, and yet, we continue feeding into platforms that amplify these struggles rather than alleviate them.

Think about it: How much time do we spend chasing validation from strangers when we could be investing in the friendships and chosen families that truly sustain us? How often do we prioritise fleeting attention over meaningful connection? We tell ourselves dating apps are the only way to meet people, but the truth is, we are only as limited as we allow ourselves to be.

I am not saying dating apps have no place in our world. I know they have worked for some people. But we need to acknowledge that they are not a solution to loneliness. In many cases, they perpetuate it.

Reclaiming Connection Beyond the Swipe

Leaving dating apps was one of the most liberating decisions I’ve made for myself. It forced me to sit with my own company, to work on being the kind of person I would want to date rather than just searching for external validation.

It also made me shift my focus back to real-life interactions — the gym, social events, community initiatives. I found more depth in friendships, more confidence in solitude, and a greater appreciation for organic connection. The people I surround myself with now see me as a whole person, not just a profile picture in a sea of options.

I still believe in love, dating, and romance (…I think). But I don’t believe in chasing them on platforms designed to keep me unfulfilled. If something happens, it happens. But I refuse to force it through an industry that profits off my dissatisfaction.

A Challenge to All of Us

What if we invested more in ourselves, our well-being, and our community than in our next potential match? What if, instead of placing so much pressure on finding a partner or having sex, we built a foundation of genuine friendships and emotional security first?

Maybe — just maybe — if we shifted our focus, our collective mental health would look a little different. Maybe we'd start seeing each other as people rather than profiles. Maybe we'd feel less lonely.

If you’re feeling drained by dating apps, I challenge you to step away. Not necessarily forever — but long enough to remember what true connection feels like. Long enough to remind yourself that your worth isn’t dictated by an app, or the same bunch of profiles appearing in your Grindr feed.

The best relationships — romantic or otherwise — aren’t built on swipes. They’re built on something real. And I, for one, want to invest in that.