"Why am I talking to 10 guys?" The rise and fall of dating apps

I can't remember how we started talking, only that we were sitting on the roof of a friend's house with the faux leather of the couch below us sticking to the back of my thighs. He was not my usual type. In his vintage football jersey and mullet, he looked a bit like an art school student, but he was funny enough to make up for it. We talked about the benefits of dating classy people and he said they always knew good restaurants, then offered to take me to the pizza his ex had shown him. I joked that pizza is never that expensive even when it's fancy and he said, "Exactly!" We talked and talked until the sky turned raspberry and it was time to go home and I hopped in an Uber and he texted me on the way home saying that loved my snake print boots. We messaged for a few days after that, until he finally stopped responding.

A few years ago a situation like this happened would be materialized by an appointment. Like that guy I kissed all night through the smoke of a club a week later. The professor I met via Hinge actually allegedly took me to see the new Bond movie we talked about. But that doesn't happen anymore, we find connections and then we let them fall into our hands, we choose evenings with friends rather than dates, we work too hard to have time to go out at all, we delete dating apps, re-download and try again, then ignore the people we match. It's not my fault and it's not the fault of the men I approach. It's dating as a whole. It's in crisis.

It's been 10 years since Tinder revolutionized the dating landscape by allowing its users to swipe right to like someone, and to the left to say no. In February, it celebrated an impressive 75 million monthly active users, but the apps are coming under increasing criticism as more and more of us question the benefits of our constant swiping. The rate at which people download and delete dating apps is second only to online gambling, and a recent Pew Research Center study found that 45% of people who recently used dating apps said that they had left them more frustrated than hopeful.

"Everyone has so many flakes," says Amy, 27, from London. "When you meet someone through an app, you're not loyal to that person, they don't know your friends, they don't work with you, so it's too easy for them to break promises." Amy is right, apps have moved from the public to the private sphere, and in doing so, they have removed all accountability. Now we connect with people when we're cooped up at home, under duvets, behind closed doors, which makes bad behavior so easy. We put partners on hold until we find someone better, the breadcrumb (give enough attention to keep someone interested without ever really committing) and the ghost (disappear without explanation ).

Others complain of "swipe fatigue", when the pressure of corresponding and talking to multiple people at once begins to be overwhelming. "I don't think our brains are supposed to process so many people at once," says Maddie, 25, from Leeds. "I have room for two and maybe three, so why am I talking to 10 guys?" Maddie mentions that it's starting to feel like a "full-time job" to connect with people. Faced with this endless treadmill of faces, people are becoming more and more disposable to us.

Amy and Maddie deleted their dating apps in July because they were starting to depress them. When they opened them, it was like their chest was sinking and they hadn't had a date in months. I did the same, then recently ended up downloading mine again for another try and was surprised at how visibly empty it all was. When I first subscribed three years ago, I met a stream of cute guys with sandy summer skin, little earrings and fleeces sitting on broken camping chairs during festivals. There was none of that this time, just men flexing their biceps in the gym, taking dull-eyed selfies from the driver's side of their cars. It felt like everyone was gone except for the hardcore response guys who make the apps even worse. I only corresponded with 10 men whereas before I started with about 40 and the number grew to over 100. Once again I deleted it.

The growing backlash against dating apps sounds like an exciting prospect. Are we going to lean over and start chatting with people on the trains, asking them what they think of the book they're reading, which you just finished two weeks ago? You two share tiny bottles of wine from the tea cart until you realize you're kindred spirits somewhere outside of Stevenage. Maybe you dare to approach the new girl at the office with the suede jacket and the t...