Fed Up, Singles Are DIYing Their Own Dating Platforms

Dating morale is at an all-time low. The apps have long since fallen out of favor, but the real-world dating scene is also a minefield. We’re at the end of what some believe is a failed experiment. It seems like more people than ever are looking for love, but finding no one to share it with. With 47% of Americans saying dating is harder now than it was 10 years ago, a small new wave of despondent daters has decided to forge their own path, embracing an age-old adage: If you want something done right, you might just have to do it yourself.

“I was fed up with everything,” says Emma Joelle Johnson, a 25-year-old from Vancouver. She went viral on TikTok in February for Flirt With Emma, a new dating app with only one option: her.

She had taken the reins from Carlos Mayers, a New York City-based iOS engineer in his 20s who created the app for himself in 2023. Though he didn’t meet anyone on it, he offered to hand it over to Johnson a week later. Instead of throwing your profile into an algorithmic melting pot, the flirts are public, and suffer the judgment of not only the suitor but also everyone else. “You could upvote the flirts that you thought had better rizz to bump them up,” Johnson explains.

Flirt With is part of a recent trend of more creative, informal attempts to meet online. These DIY developers aren’t looking to launch the next Tinder or get rich. They just want to find love in a world they say these apps ruined. “[They’ve] become almost transactional,” says Johnson.

Many singles agree. The millennials who normalized dating apps are, 10 years later, tired of swiping for something they’re starting to suspect these apps — increasingly monetized and reliant on algorithms — will never give them. Meanwhile, meeting people offline has become more daunting. “There is a big swing towards the idea of meeting people in real life, however, the reality of this is… questionable,” says Layla*, a 31-year-old from Toronto.

That’s why Molly*, a 30-year-old from London, figured she had nothing to lose by putting a personal ad in Angel Food, an online literary journal that has a page dedicated to “Earthly Connections.” Another single, a 33-year-old software engineer named Michael*, made headlines after he used ad space on Facebook to advertise his own desire for connection. “I’m kind, happy, curious, creative, and a major nerd,” he wrote. “At the most basic level, I’m looking to meet a woman who is open to a serious relationship and lives within the reach of the NYC subway network.”

“The conversations were instantly deeper and less awkward than app dating and it felt much more human,” Molly says of the response to her own ad. Although it only led to one date, and the chemistry wasn’t “amazing,” she would definitely do it again.

These DIY developers aren’t looking to launch the next Tinder or get rich. They just want to find love in a world they say these apps ruined.

While savvy coders can slap together an app, those without such skills may turn to something simpler: Google Docs. Known as “date-me docs,” the trend gained popularity in 2022 as a more long-form way for singles to advertise themselves outside the whims of Hinge and Bumble’s algorithms.

Anna Koenig, a 37-year-old in Sonoma County, created her date-me doc back in April, describing herself as “a confident, adventure seeking, fitness and health focused, fun-oriented woman” looking for “intelligent, communicative, well humored company.” The five-page document features pictures, her social media handle, and a Google Form to get in touch. “Even if it doesn't lead to finding someone, it [was] a good exercise to get clear on who I am and what I'm looking for,” she says.

In the same way people are known to promote their Soundcloud, Koenig debuted her doc on X after she went viral for a tweet about women’s limited window to have children. She received over 40 responses from all over the world. She ended up going on one phone date but they ultimately weren’t compatible.

17% of date-me doc users find relationships in one year versus 21% of dating app users.

She still keeps the doc on hand to send to dating app matches to give them additional information. Next, she plans to ask her friends to disseminate it across their own circles— not unlike biodata in South Asian cultures, documents including physical and biographical information in hopes of arranging marriages. “I’ve heard the best way to meet someone is through other people you already know,” she says.

As it turns out, there’s an app for that too — if you know where to look. “My friend was telling me all of these horrifying dating stories from Hinge,” says Christine*, a 30-year-old from Los Angeles who requested to withhold the name of her app for the privacy of its users. “I was like, you know what, I will make an app just for you.”

A product designer herself, Christine’s version does the exact opposite of what users have come to expect — and resent — about the more traditional options. For instance, there’s no swiping, just a directory of profiles, and you can only send one message before being required to take the conversation off the app. It consists only of users from Christine’s network, and other friends of friends. Many already know each other from X, and the app just helps grease the wheels. The app also allows users to “vouch” for other people, adding another layer of trust. This has led to lots of hookups, Christine says, and at least four or five relationships.

These DIY attempts are exciting and novel, but they may struggle to get traction. That’s why Steve Krouse, a 30-year-old programmer in Brooklyn, used the platform to gather hundreds of date-me docs into a directory that can be filtered by sexuality, age range, and location.

Thus far, their success is roughly on par with dating apps — 17% of users find relationships in one year versus 21%, respectively, according to a 2023 survey of Krouse’s database. Nearly three-quarters of survey respondents received at least one outreach, 39% have gone on at least one date, and there’s been at least one marriage.

“If you say what you think you want, you'll probably find it,” Krouse says. In that sense, date-me docs are the ultimate form of manifestation, investing significant effort — several paragraphs or even pages — into clarifying who you are and what you’re looking for before releasing it into the universe.

“This brings some lightness back into it. It no longer feels like you're scraping at the bottom of the barrel,” Johnson says.

The allure of these budding, DIY alternatives goes beyond their novelty and success rate. They’ve also achieved something people were starting to think was impossible: making dating fun again. “It was refreshing,” says Calvin*, 29, who sent an application to a date-me doc in 2020. He never received a response, but “it was nice compared to the same song and dance of swipe and hope.”

“This brings some lightness back into it. It no longer feels like you're scraping at the bottom of the barrel,” Johnson, the face of Flirt With, says. “At least if it doesn't lead to my husband, it leads to something funny.”

In her case, one response from a local stood out. “He worked in the same industry as me, he was already following me, and I had a couple of his posts saved,” she says. They met up that afternoon, and four months later, they’re still together. Now, a new successor has taken over the app. Madison is currently accepting flirts, and is ready to find love — all by herself.

*Requested to withhold their last name.