T

he music is loud and the room is 
dark, lit up only by banal string 
lights dangling on the side of the 

wall. There are guys playing beer pong in a 
brighter part of the house, showing off and 
making drunken noises. In the tiny kitchen 
where the counter is filled with red cups and 
variations of alcohol, sorority girls throw up 
in the sink as their sisters kindly hold up their 
hair behind them. 

You are surrounded by a room full of people, 

kissing and grinding against each other. Your 
friends are already drunk and dancing on the 
platform with some frat boy you have never 
met before. You try to vibe along with the beat 
— a rap song that you hear on the radio all the 
time but don’t know the name of. Even though 
you want to head home, you are not sure if 
walking the streets alone at 12 a.m. is the best 
option for a girl.

That’s when your eyes meet. Another pair of 

anxious yet curious eyes across the dance floor 
catch your gaze, longing for comfort in a crowd 
of strangers. You reach a tacit agreement and 
unconsciously move toward the door together. 
After a quick self-introduction, he offers to 
walk you back to your house, indulging in the 
get-to-know-you questions and even a little 
banter. Before you part, you exchange phone 
numbers and a kiss.
T

his would be a common, cheesy 
scene of “love at first sight” from 
any typical 2000s romantic comedy 

movie. Of course, this has not happened to me, 
or anyone that I know for that matter — though 
young women have plenty of awkward experi-
ences with men who suddenly start grooving 
next to them at a party, only to ask for their 
number. 

Nevertheless, the media has always 

placed emphasis on the initial encounters of 
intimate relationships. Two complete strang-
ers are expected to be magically brought to-
gether by serendipitous incidents: bonding 
over The Smiths in an elevator ride to work, 
meeting in a local travel bookshop in a for-
eign country, kissing a stranger to prevent 
an embarrassing confrontation with a past 
crush.

While these scripted scenes inevitably dic-

tate our expectations of romance, I couldn’t 
help but wonder how realistic they are in our 
ordinary lives. As technology becomes more 
integrated into our social life, are the oh-so 
desired “organic” encounters possible? What 
is the likelihood that we will find “the one” 
amid the rise of COVID-19 cases on campus 
and enforced social distancing protocols?

The most recent data shows that even in a 

pandemic, young people are not giving up on 
their chance at romance. Dating apps owned by 
Match Group —Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, etc. — 
have all experienced a direct growth in revenue 
since March 2020. College students have also 
become more creative with the ways they build 
intimate relationships, with people going as 
far as designing a Zoom dating site or a match-
ing survey algorithm to battle social isolation. 
While the creations of these technologies were 
well-intentioned, many users complained of a 
lack of success due to the short nature of online 
conversation.

I could easily see why. As someone who suf-

fers from extreme Zoom fatigue and online so-
cial anxiety, I have always had my doubts about 
building meaningful relationships through 
technology. However, my inner romantic of-
fered a shimmer of hope, peeking through a 
crack in my skeptical heart and prompting me 
to properly investigate my questions. In turn, I 
spoke to five people regarding their experience 
with dating apps, long-distance relationships 
and chasing love during a pandemic.
T

he first person I spoke to was LSA 
senior Emma Carter, who met her 
girlfriend, Annie, on Hinge. On the 

Sunday morning of our interview, I rolled out 
of bed and rushed to Zoom. Emma arrived at 
our meeting a few minutes later in a gray zip-
up hoodie, much more awake and refreshed 
than I was.

I started off with the basics, asking about 

why she got the application and what she 
wanted from it. Emma explained that she first 
downloaded Hinge when studying abroad for a 
semester in Barcelona. She was never intend-
ing on finding a relationship through the app, 
as she is “not a huge fan of online dating,” but 

instead downloaded it just to meet new people. 
When asked about why she selected Hinge 
over other popular apps, she explained, “I 
wasn’t really looking for a relationship neces-
sarily, but I don’t like Tinder. It kind of just im-
plies a hookup and that’s not what I am really 
interested in.”

While the two apps belong to the same par-

ent company, Match Group, Tinder and Hinge 
serve entirely different purposes. Whereas 
Tinder is mostly known as the “hookup app,” 
especially among college students, Hinge is 
for people who look for a deeper connection. 
Nevertheless, the two share a similar demo-
graphic, with their core users being millen-
nials ranging from the age of 18 to people in 
their 20s. 

“Hinge is a really good one because it’s not 

just about how a person looks,” Emma elabo-
rated. “On Tinder, it can just be like ‘hey you’re 
cute.’ That’s how the conversation starts and 
there’s not much to talk about with that. (On 
Hinge) when there are these preliminary 
questions, it is easier to generate more organic 
conversations about something real.”

Though Emma has always been a little skep-

tical about dating apps, a conversation with her 
dad’s coworker completely changed her per-
spective. He told her that if he were a young 
person in this pandemic, he would “100% use 
dating apps.” The ongoing COVID-19 pandem-
ic forces people into quarantine and smaller 
social circles, giving way to intense feelings of 
loneliness and isolation. Public health officials 
have even recommended wearing a mask when 
engaging in sexual activities with individuals 
outside one’s social pod.

However, the forced absence of physical 

contact and need for social distancing has also 
hindered people from forming serious rela-
tionships. When asked about how she makes 
efforts to maintain her relationship in this 
pandemic while protecting those around her, 
Emma shared her own experience. 

“I think it’s definitely respectable to sus-

pend online dating during the pandemic right 
now, though I don’t know if we could suspend 
meeting new people forever,” she explained. 
She additionally pointed out the importance 

of being socially-aware and transparent in her 
and Annie’s communication.

“I am not necessarily freaked about get-

ting COVID-19,” Emma said. “I am freaked out 
about spreading it. (Annie and I) are working 
together really well to minimize any risks of 
doing that. At the end of the day, we don’t see 
many people.”

Emma told me that despite having found a 

serious partner through a dating app, she re-
mains skeptical about the effectiveness of these 
technologies. She is convinced that if she and 
Annie met in person instead of through Hinge, 
they still would have been together. 

“In person personalities play a huge role 

in attraction to individuals, and I don’t think 
you can get that through these apps,” Emma 
explained. “I didn’t think I was going to find 
someone I like this much from online dating. 
I don’t like the idea that much, but it worked 
out.”
T

he next person who I talked to was 
LSA senior Kate Kachmer, who is 
one of Emma’s housemates. How-

ever, unlike Emma, her experience with Hinge 
was not at all successful. Kate felt a sense of a 
fear of missing out and loneliness while quar-
antining with her siblings, who are both in seri-
ous relationships. With the constant romance 
in front of her face and the future of socializing 
appearing uncertain, Kate decided to finally 
give dating apps a shot. 

However, after setting up her profile, she 

found Hinge’s set of personal trivia questions 
insufficient and inauthentic. Like icebreakers 
before a meeting, Hinge’s set of profile prompts 
were created to spark conversations, with 
T.M.I.-style prompts like “a shower thought 
that I recently had.” 

“Anyone could look through a list of ques-

tions and send it to their friends and ask ‘what’s 
a funny response to put,’” Kate explained. “It’s 
more like who has the best one-liner they can 
put in response to a prompt and make someone 
like them.”

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
14 — Wednesday, October 21, 2020 
statement

All you need is love 
— and a phone

BY LOLA YANG, STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT

statement

ILLUSTRATIONS BY EILEEN KELLY

Read more at 
 
MichiganDaily.com

