Partner searches as a science? Surprisingly, Chemistry—referred to as “Chemistry”—is Tinder’s label for a new AI-powered feature in some countries designed to combat dating fatigue. Users receive a daily “curated recommendation” instead of endlessly swiping through profiles.
“We use AI to build more relevant connections,” says Spencer Rascoff, CEO of the Match Group, the parent company of Tinder. There’s also more artificial intelligence in Grindr—the gay dating app that helped pioneer GPS-based dating—but it brings its own set of problems that can sour the search for some users.
At Tinder, AI language models are used to flag messages that cross a line. A new Auto-Blur feature automatically blurs potentially disrespectful content, allowing younger users in particular to decide whether they want to see a message at all. “Are You Sure?” serves as a reminder to senders to keep things respectful.
A representative Bitkom poll of internet users aged 16 and up found that 77 percent of the women and 69 percent of the men surveyed view it as “problematic” when AI intrudes too far into the realm of romantic relationships.
Dating apps are important to many people, but rarely a topic
“Dating apps, the space of intimacy, must not be underestimated as a societal field,” sociologist Thorsten Peetz says about Tinder, Bumble, and other platforms. “Online dating is something many people do, even if they don’t want to talk about it. It provides recognition and the fulfillment of desires. It’s very important for the identity of many people.”
Peetz, an expert in evaluation processes, notes that AI is playing an increasingly significant role in dating apps. “People use it to generate profile text and to edit their photos. There are also new forms of scams. People use AI in the form of bots—more precisely, agents—to build trust, potentially feigning a romantic relationship. The aim is often to persuade someone to transfer money.”
It’s hard to gauge how widespread this is, Peetz says. “I assume many people encounter bots. You’ll sometimes see phrases like ‘No crypto bros, please’ from women on Tinder, which seems to signal they’d rather chat with real men than bots trying to steer conversations to other platforms.”
Frustration also for gay users
“There are also the off-putting, repetitive questions like ‘What are you looking for?’ or unsolicited explicit photos,” a Tinder user in her early 40s in Hamburg notes.
Frustration isn’t limited to women; gay users experience it too with Grindr, the pioneer app. It’s a staple of pop culture—almost as much as Tinder’s swiping.
At the Eurovision Song Contest, Grindr even became material for the moment. When 2024 host Petra Mede grabbed a man’s phone in the arena to supposedly explain the Eurovision app, the unmistakable Grindr notification sound erupted in the crowd. “Looks like you’re having a wonderful week here in Malmö,” sounded the alert.
Users irritated by advertising
The main issues with Grindr today are display advertising and bots, says a Grindr user in his mid-30s from Cologne who prefers not to reveal his real name given the topic’s promiscuity. Ads interrupt nearly every interaction. For a service that once aimed to connect users quickly, there feel like too many distractions. “Annoying games where you rescue a princess or a puppy from lava, or something like that.” Then there are the bots—fake profiles that spam and link to third-party sites.
Thomas in Vienna complains about high prices for disabling interruptions so he can enjoy the app’s intended purpose (finding a casual hookup quickly, as he puts it). When he started using Grindr about 15 years ago, the ad-free version cost around €3 for a month. It doubled the number of men he could view in the profile grid. Now the Unlimited subscription runs about €24 per week, unlocking all profiles and letting photos disappear after opening.
The Left party calls for a tax to preserve analog dating spaces
Money funneled into app subscriptions might be missing from queer clubs and bars, and some activists see politics as responsible. The Left party is calling for a digital tax on big tech. “If you use Grindr without a subscription, you’re flooded with ads and can barely communicate properly. You’re effectively forced to spend money, while the infrastructure around queer nightlife erodes,” Maik Brückner recently told the Berlin magazine Siegessäule. He is the party’s spokesperson for queer policy.
Grindr launched in 2009, making it dramatically easier for men who have sex with men to meet one another. The gay dating culture—once considered more casual—has since become more mainstream. Heterosexuals today can be just as sex-positive as the stereotypes suggest.
Do we actually still need the apps?
Some gay men see little reason to use Grindr—or similar apps like Scruff, Hornet, or Growlr—given broader social acceptance. Grindr’s chief product officer, Austin Balance, says the core business has shifted away from mere dating. Meeting up and cruising are just a subset of what the platform offers. But do we really need Grindr instead of a typical social-media app to ask for bar tips, restaurant recommendations, and party ideas while traveling?
For kink, some people now turn to more specialized, web-based portals that sidestep the App Store or Play Store. For others, mainstream channels still work well: “Especially in big cities, many people are out,” says a man in his twenties in Berlin. “I see a rainbow flag in the bio of an attractive guy on Instagram and think, ‘I could reach out to him and message him easily.’”
