I Tried the New Dating Apps Looking to Unseat Tinder and Hinge

Tinder is for casual sex, Hinge is for hot people, Bumble is for… whoever uses Bumble. These are the dating app rules I’ve known to be true, at least in my experience of swiping left and right and reading countless dry answers to cheesy prompts.

That said, the answer to my question of “so how did you guys meet?” has increasingly been “via dating app”. But these three, the Holy Trinity of dating via smartphone, have begun to feel quite tired. People crave genuine connection post-pandemic, possibly as a result of the self-isolation that came with it (unless, of course, you lived or worked at Number 10). It seems developers have caught on. For a while it felt like I couldn’t leave my house without seeing an advert for a new dating app, all of them very proud of their USPs and promising a novel approach that would lead to a long-lasting, modern-day-romcom type of love, rather than awkward dates and rubbish chat. 

Are they all gimmicks, or might they actually work? To save you the tedium of multiple sign-ups and hours of swiping, I tried four relative newcomers out. 

You know that scene in The Hunger Games where all the contestants are trying to suss each other out before they rush to the Cornucopia and start chopping each other up? That’s kind of what dating feels like on Thursday. There’s a lot of stressy double messaging, and “can I have your number/Instagram/Snapchat?” very early on, because you’re only able to match with people for 24 hours. Oh, and only on a Thursday... After that, the app deletes all matches and locks itself down.

“It doesn’t make too much sense,” says Derrin, 28, who – like others I spoke to for this article – asked not to be named. He has been using the app since November and seemed unsure about the premise: “Not many people can go out on Thursday. Maybe you can go for a drink, but long or overnight dates are quite hard if you’ve got work.” Maybe not the app for one night stands, then. 

“I guess it forces people to be spontaneous, but you really only have three or four hours to use it. I’ve never seen anyone again after losing the matches, and you don’t really get to know them because of that.” 

The perceived urgency is a clever marketing tactic, but I think it would be a lot more user-friendly if you were able to retain at least those matches you started conversations with. The dating pool is small, so there might be a chance to reconnect in a week, but a lot can change in seven days, just ask that girl from The Ring. 6/10. 

The vast majority of people who liked me on POM (which stands for Power Of Music) looked like they could either be my friend-from-home’s little brother or their dad. The gist here is that you link your profile to your Spotify or Apple Music, and then POM suggests artists, songs and albums to add to your profile. They won’t get access to your entire streaming account, but you can add things like a guilty pleasure (the High School Musical 2 original soundtrack), your breakup song (Saweetie’s “Back to the Streets” feat. Jhené Aiko) and an album that changed your life (Ctrl by SZA).

A lot of bios were giving off strong 2014 Tumblr, manic pixie dream boy, wanderlust vibes. Tons of solitary gig goers and my-playlist-has-an-average-amount-of-likes-on-Spotify type brags floating about. The demographic was overwhelmingly white and male.

“I saw adverts for it on Instagram and wanted to try something different because apps like Tinder got a bit stale,” says Lukey, 24. “I’ve only had it for a week but I feel an app like that is more likely to get you something long-term because you immediately know if you've got common ground.” 

You could very well find someone who loves you for your obsession with “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” and for your love of Danish hip-hop. The musical context offers an immediate ice-breaker, which is cool. Despite that out of the apps I reviewed, POM is where the chat was the deadest, and also where men were most likely to develop an attitude once I revealed I wasn’t actually looking for love. It’s also so glitchy it made me never want to date again. That alone knocks two points off the score. 4/10. 

The Sauce felt like a TikTok-dating app hybrid. You scroll vertically through profiles, each with at least two videos. No photos are allowed, except for your profile picture. Lip-synching in shared kitchen videos seem to be the bread and butter of most users, but people also post themselves missing goals, hanging out with their friends, playing guitar. It definitely adds some spice. 

“I think it’s a better concept than Tinder and Bumble because it’s got quite a raw feel to it,” says Jeremy, 24. “Videos are a better way to showcase who you are than photos and text.”

The demographic was a lot younger compared to the other apps on this list, the majority of users seemingly being between 21 to 28. The Sauce also seemed to have a healthier balance of women to men and of white people to people of colour (still not amazing, but at this point I was just grateful). I also matched with the app’s CEO and co-founder Sachin Karia, 31, who’s on there for research purposes. 

“We are currently building features like adding music and in-app video editing. The great thing is [that] video gives people who otherwise may not get a chance (not being photogenic) to show how funny, cool and charismatic they are,” Sachin said via Whatsapp. “Our goal is to bring it closer to real life.” Thirst-trapping in motion is trickier than static thirst-trapping.

It could feel a bit like a highlight reel, but people really are out here putting clips of their drunken selves singing along to Oasis at 4AM, which does feel a lot more authentic than the manicured texts and images that most apps offer. 8/10. 

Dates are better with mates, says Jungle. Are they? You and your friends can join as a pair or even as a three in an effort to match with other groups. The premise could offer a less awkward first-date experience — you have someone to bounce off of and a funny story to share at the pub afterwards, should it go totally wrong. But  the format throws up a lot of questions. 

What if you and your friend fancy the same person? What if you really fancy one of them, but your friend wants nothing to do with the other? How are you going to find two people you both find attractive? The odds on that count shrink even further if there’s three of you. What if one your mate ends up having a long-lasting relationship with someone you joint-matched with, but you just  go on a couple of dates, have mediocre sex and block the person you met on every platform possible? Will you be able to face them at your mates’ wedding?

“I haven’t really come across many people I’d like to date,” says user Noah, 24. “The pool of people does seem small, and there aren’t as many like-minded or attractive people as there are on Hinge.”

It’s an interesting concept if you can put up with the what ifs (clearly I cannot). For me, dating is messy enough as it is, without entertaining the idea of bringing a whole other two (maybe even four!) people into the mix. On top of that the dating pool is so, so small that it feels like there’s a total of 12 people using the app. It’s a miss for me. 4/10. 

@nicolegarciamer