Nobody Knows How to Date Anymore
So they're manifesting partners, embracing rejection, and joining cornhole leagues. A look at what comes after the swipe.
Today, we have a special guest post by Marie Aloi and Saskia Gregg, from my team about the reality of modern dating. Get your Bridgeton popcorn and enjoy!
Recently, we found ourselves pooling our contacts to set up our single friends. You would think that New York City, with its smorgasbord of options, would be the land of matchmaking opportunity. But the cruel irony of a larger pool is more debris to sift through, and our friends have reached their breaking point. Gone are the days of the Sex and the City weekly first dates we had grown up to expect. Instead, personal time has become a finite resource that singles are becoming especially protective of. With a dating reality that consists of short bursts of energy on apps followed by full hibernation when the options produce more ick than intrigue, many are deleting their apps in favor of vetted in-person connections, while others are opting out of dating altogether.
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As we couldnāt sift through a shared spreadsheet of eligible bachelors, we couldnāt help but wonder⦠if our friends are doing a 180 in how they date, are others doing the same? And what are they doing? So, we decided to examine modern dating through the lens of American singles and found three things:
Financial stability is in
Meet-cutes are aspirational
And old-school dating is on the brink of a renaissance
Dating, in this economy?
The current economic climate has become an influential factor in the decisions we make, from where we live to what we buy. Our recent Modern Dating research found that economic uncertainty is also at the foundation of how Americans date. From who singles pursue to whether they bother at all, money has become the silent third party in dating decisions.
Love or money? Why not both?
74% say, āfinancial stability has become one of the most attractive traits in datingā
Thereās a reason the 2024 song of the summer came from a viral TikTok singing, āIām looking for a man in finance, trust fund, 6ā5ā, blue eyes.ā Itās not random that women in NYC happened to snag Sweetgreen salads they didnāt order, meant for men that work in nearby midtown offices. Amid the economic uncertainty, āattractiveā features have primarily become financial security. Thereās a collective way of thinking that, in a world where it feels like people cannot live comfortably as individuals, dating a āman in financeā (i.e., a partner that makes enough money to financially back you) is a cheat code to comfortable living.
The idea of coupling up as a way to live more financially stable is also evidenced in the rise of DINKS. Our 2024 study found that living with a partner has become more of a financial hedge, rather than a commitment of love: 60% of Gen Z + Millennials living with a partner say, āI donāt know how I would survive if I didnāt live with my partner.ā While over half of Millennials admit to staying in a relationship solely because of the financial security it provided. In a cost of living crisis where the average rent of a studio apartment in Manhattan is $4,025 per month, you start to wonder if itās financially irresponsible not to move in with the person you just started dating.
Actually, just moneyā¦.
49% of Americans agree, āIād choose financial success over finding loveā
But financial pressure doesnāt push everyone in the same direction. While some are seeking a partner who lift the burden, others have decided the math just doesnāt add up at all.
As costs rise to the point where the average date now costs around $189, Gen Z has decided theyāve had enough of ādate-flationā and are spending significantly less than Millennials and Gen X per month on dates, at $69. Nearly half (47%) of singles say dating is simply not financially worth it these days, signaling that building independent wealth and investing in yourself has become the newest flex. Cue, the investment portfolio.
Tinderās 2025 Year in Swipe report highlights one of the biggest shifts in the dating ethos: āhaving a boyfriend is embarrassingā now. What once signalled security and status now reads like a punchline. Gen Z is spearheading this redefinition of self-fulfillment, one that doesnāt hinge on being in a relationship, but instead on āclear codingā -- aka emotional honesty -- and growing financial stability. Nearly a third of Gen Z have started investing by the time they reach early adulthood and 94% have aspirations of hitting financial independence before 55. With such lofty financial aspirations, 50% of Gen Z and 40% of Millennials say that the cost of dating is getting in the way of reaching their financial goals. Move over words of affirmation, it turns out the hottest love language is a diversified portfolio.
Gen Zās Romance Rebellion
Traditional dating apps have lost their luster. Bumble, an app that once had 12.5 million users spending an average of 100 minutes per day swiping for love, has lost 90% of its market value since 2021. Tinder and Hinge arenāt faring much better, reporting declines in paying subscribers. āDating app burnoutā isnāt new, in fact, The Atlantic reported on The Rise of Dating App Fatigue in 2016. Ten years later, the frustration has curdled into a collective shift in the ethos of dating itself: 72% of Americans say dating apps have made romance feel more like a transaction, and 77% of singles say dating today feels less like a love story and more like a marketplace. The desire for a more intentional way of dating is louder than ever. In response, young daters are throwing what they know about dating out the window, and turning to the whimsical, the awkward and the (new) old fashioned.
Finding Love Gets Cosmic
54% of Gen Z + Millennials would try manifesting a partner and 1 in 4 would hire an Etsy witch to find love
For some, the answer lies in the stars. Amidst economic uncertainty and AIās rapid disruption to traditional infrastructures, people are turning to the cosmos for some answers, or perhaps simply for some relief.
On TikTok, full-moon rituals and manifestation tips have surged over the past year, currently housing 9.6 million videos under the #WitchTok hashtag.
Zodiac-inspired experiences are also on the rise, with Eventbrite citing a 21% increase in these events between 2024 and 2025. As singles increasingly grow tired of infinite swiping that leads nowhere, thereās a collective feeling that itās time to turn to more mystical means.
Our 2024 astrology study found that over 6 in 10 Millennials (64%) are aware of the signs they are most compatible with and 56% check a personās astrological sign before even agreeing to a date.
In Tinderās 2024 Year in Swipe report, nearly 20% of singles reported creating vision boards to manifest their ideal relationships, looking for popular tropes like āgolden retriever loveā and āblack cat energy.ā
Dating apps like Stars Align are even leaning into the cosmically-connected crowd with matches based on astrological compatibility and insights tied to current planetary shifts. In an era where 30% of US adults say they consult astrology, tarot cards or a fortune teller at least once a year, maybe thereās some method to the magic.
Rejection goes mainstream
70% of Gen Z agree, āmeeting new people in real life feels harder than it should be.ā
But manifesting a partner only works if youāre willing to actually talk to one. And for Gen Z, a generation that struggles with social awkwardness, thatās easier said than done. Although young people want to meet others in real life, they donāt know how, in fact, they have a lot of anxiety when they think about doing it.
Our research found that most Gen Z (73%) worry about coming across as awkward when trying to talk to other people in person. And over three-in-five say, āFear of rejection stops me from meeting people organically.ā
Instead of backing away, they are taking the steps needed to break this social barrier. Last month, TikToker Gabriella Carr went viral with her vow to experience 1,000 ānoāsā over the course of a year. Her vow sparked the viral āThe 1,000 Rejection Challenge,ā full of young people taking the same vow.
Scroll TikTok and youāll find videos of users asking strangers to take a class with them, asking car dealerships to borrow a car, negotiating their apartment terms, shooting their shot with brand deals, and more.
But Gen Z isnāt alone on this quest, services are being created specifically to help them feel more confident. Meeno, founded by former Tinder CEO, is an AI tool that takes users through potential IRL scenarios to help them navigate in-person social situations with more confidence.
The platformsā NYC subway campaign literally reads, āRejection is hotā and āMeet people IRL.ā Will Gen Z really turn to AI to help them with their social confidence? The jury is still out, but what we do know is that most (61%) say they āwant brands to help them be more socially confident,ā and 53% have or would use an AI dating coach.
Love goes analog(ish)
75% of singles say, āI want more curated ways to meet compatible people than dating apps can offer.ā
71% of Gen Z say, āEverybody wants a meet-cute, but nobody knows how to get one.ā
And despite the anxiety, theyāre showing up anyway. As the pendulum swings back towards romance, daters are opting out of the swipe and chasing something more spontaneous. Many are finding love in clubs; not that type of club, instead run clubs, hiking clubs, and book clubs.
While others are using return-to-office mandates as a love story opportunity, with nearly a third of workers between 18 and 44 having started an office romance since returning to the office at least once a week.
Weāre also seeing a resurgence of match making events, cleverly disguised as a ānight out.ā In San Francisco, singles are headed to comedy dating shows, where they go through three to five rounds of live dating on stage before an audience.
In NYC, the supper club boom has become so big that restaurants are seeing a financial lift.
In Chicago, singles are attending a cornhole league turned speed dating event.
But in a digital world, finding love offline doesnāt have to be all up to chance: a new wave of online dating services is stepping in to facilitate a more analog meet-cute.
Left Field, dubbed the PokƩmon Go of dating, is a NYC-based app that sends a push notification when a potential match is physically nearby.
Breeze blocks messaging entirely until you agree to meet face-to-face, shows you only seven profiles a night, and schedules and books the date for you.
Paloma skips the app altogether, matching people via text message and running in-person Date Week events in California for singles burned out on swiping.
Conclusion
So where does this leave us ā two women hunched over a spreadsheet of eligible bachelors in a city of 8 million people?
Honestly, kind of optimistic. Yes, the economics of dating are brutal. Yes, the apps have made romance feel like a marketplace. And yes, thereās a generation of young people whoād rather consult an Etsy witch than open Hinge. But underneath all of it is something that feels genuinely promising: people still want connection. Theyāre just done settling for the version of dating that was handed to them.
What weāre seeing isnāt the death of romance ā itās a correction. Singles are getting pickier about how they spend their time, more honest about what they need, and more creative about how they find it. Theyāre showing up to cornhole leagues and comedy dating shows and rejection challenges, not because theyāve given up, but because theyāre betting on something better than a swipe.
The rules of dating are being rewritten in real time. And if our shared spreadsheet is any indication, sometimes the best algorithm is just two friends who know you well enough to skip the small talk.
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Penned by Libby Rodney and Abbey Lunney, founders of the Thought Leadership + Futures Group at The Harris Poll. Thanks for reading The Next Big Think! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.













