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As the pandemic summer creeps into pandemic autumn,??? ?? ?? ??? I...am still on dating apps. When I lie in bed at night, the only light in the room is the screen glow as I swipe through various apps — left, left, right, left, right, right — and so it goes.

The phenomenon known as doomscrolling, popularized on Twitter by writer Karen K. Ho, entered the cultural lexicon earlier this year. The concept is simple: One scrolls endlessly on their various social media feeds, absorbing the news of the day which, this year especially, has been disheartening at best and apocalyptic at worst.

I'd say this behavior crosses over into dating apps, too, but in a slightly different way: Doomswiping. Unlike with doomscrolling, where we read the horrors of the news and the discourse that comes along with it, doomswipingis the act of mindlessly scrolling through dating apps without the express purpose of actually meeting someone — especially since right now coming within six feet of a stranger is often not possible to do safely.

The fact that we can't date the way we usually do is the great paradox of doomswiping: We want to opt out of the world around us, at least while we're swiping, but once we actually attempt to make a connection we're hit extra hard with reality.

I'm not the only one doomswiping. In a survey of thousand Hilyusers, 23 percent reported using dating apps as an escape routine, according to a press release. At the same time, 85 percent of respondents said they want to find a connection eventually.

This isn't unlike what the several people I spoke to told me about doomswiping. When I asked whether they were on dating apps to numb out (doomswipe) or to actually date, the answer more often than not was both — even if they don't actually want to meet up right now. Even if they don't want to message their matches.

This is something Pierce* experienced on dating apps. "I have this idea that I'm swiping to date and have some semblance of conversation with someone but that illusion vanishes rapidly when I get a match," he told me.

"I open up the app with some kind of intention," Pierce explained, "but the swiping just becomes another way to stare at a screen and not think about anything."

Why are we doing this to ourselves?

The motivations for doomswiping are multifaceted. Clearly, one of them is the desire to numb ourselves from the world around us; in that sense it's the opposite of doomscrolling, which results in spiraling into a wormhole of catastrophe about our current reality.

We might also crave the potential validation (and subsequent dopamine hit) of matching. Then there's the desire for actual connection — especially at a time where we can't see friends or meet new people as readily.

We can't analyze this sometimes contradictory behavior without examining how the pandemic has impacted our mental health. Dr. Ashwini Nadkarni, associate psychiatrist and an instructor at Harvard Medical School, told me that the epidemic of lonelinessbrought on by the prolonged period of isolation could contribute to the recent increase in dating app usage. Nadkarni also pointed to this studythat linked stay-at-home orders and personal distancing with depression, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and insomnia.

It's not just loneliness or even depression that we're facing, though: It's generational trauma. "Recent research has also shown that the experience of witnessing the impact of infectious diseases on the world, such as in the case of COVID-19, has also produced symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder in youth," said Nadkarni, citing a paper entitled The Effect of COVID-19 on Youth Mental Health.

"An increased desire for a connection, even a virtual one, may be a coping response to such isolation," Nadkami explained. "Alternatively, for those who have become desensitized to the risks of contracting COVID, increased use of dating apps could also represent a form of an emotional escape, or emotional numbing or avoidance, in response to the distress they've experienced."

This emotional numbing is a defining criteria for PTSD, according to Nadkarni.

Doomscrolling into a doomspiral

Maia, with whom I spoke about her dating app usage, sees doomswiping as a numbing behavior. "It doesn’t do a good job of making me stop thinking about how fucked we are," she said, "but it’s better than scrolling on Twitter."

Another person, who requested to remain anonymous, said they're swiping to date and for distraction — but not out of boredom. "More like trying to keep my brain occupied so I am not just stewing in constant anxiety," they said. "But also having anxiety about dating at the same time. But at least I am not thinking about all those other anxieties!"

This person, who's nonbinary, said that they used to only check apps periodically and swipe for maybe ten minutes. Now, however, they've been spending hours on apps.

Ruth, a graduate student, told me she has the sense that she's swiping in an alternate reality where COVID isn't happening. "Not that people on dating apps are ignoring the risks or acting irresponsibly, but it's like pretending that the whole world isn't on fire," she said. Ruth described her dating app behavior as "deliberate-ignorance swiping."

When we're tired or not getting the self-care we need, we turn to convenient behaviors — swiping on a dating app, for instance — to numb us out, according to Ned Presnall, LCSW. Ned is the owner/director ofPlan Your Recoveryand a professor and researcher at Washington University in St. Louis in the Clinical Social Work and Psychiatry departments.

"Most dating apps have a variable schedule of reinforcement, which powerfully reinforces repetitive behavior," which is also how people become addicted to gambling, said Presnall. He continued, "We don’t know how long we’ll have to swipe before we get a match, but when we get a match we find it rewarding and affirming, and thus continue swiping over and over again."

But that can also backfire. The anonymous person I spoke to has several chronic illnesses, so they're trying to steer matches towards online dates or Animal Crossingmeetups — but they've been getting ghosted, if matches reply to their messages at all. "Which just feeds into my anxiety about dating and I end up spending even more time swiping while I wait to see if they’ll reply," they said.

They didn't spend too much time on dating apps prior to the pandemic due to a "constant background tension" they experienced as a nonbinary user — but now they've found spending time on other social media is even more stressful.

They also just wants a connection. They said, "I am living on my own [right now] so it's kinda rough being in the same room most of the time and not being around other people at all. I miss physical contact."

This was a common theme with the "doomswipers" I interviewed. Ruth said the pandemic has slowed down her life and made her acutely aware of milestones that are passing her by, like dating. "Since everything is remote, the ways in which I would ordinarily meet people, such as through my graduate school are gone," Ruth said. "So [swiping is] kinda an attempt to mitigate social isolation."

"I'm a habitual doom swiper," said Noel Simone, who lives in Chicago and doesn't know anyone in the city. "When I run out of apps to scroll, I turn to my personal cesspool of potential lovers on Hinge."

While Simone has been on dating apps for years, she believes it seems more useless now than ever. She described the vibes as "fruitless and weird" and her app behavior as a "vicious cycle."

"As I move through the preliminary small talk, I know I won't ever MEET them. I think a man would have to be some kind of special, tick off every box, before i'd even think to sit with them in a park or at a distance in a restaurant," she said. "I feel lonely, want the companionship, but then don't want the possible virus. So I exit the app. Return hours later, to waste some guy's time."

Another doomswiper, Andrew, also described a this as a cyclical behavior. He feels lonely, he goes on the apps, he feels sad, he exits, and repeats. He started using apps after getting out of a relationship and is looking for connection, but finds that he feels insecure if he doesn't get matches. He begins a comparison game in his head, he says, thinking his ex has an easier time on the apps.

Like every social media platform, seeking instant gratification and validation is built into dating apps. Dr. Chris Leeth, therapist and professor at the University of Texas at San Antonio's Department of Counseling, told me that this is the fundamental difference between doomscrolling and doomswiping.

Doomscrolling, in Leeth's view, represents distraction and a different sort of validation: "one of joint company and shared misery." Doomswiping, however, represents seeking personal validation and connection.

Even if we're desperate for connection, it doesn't mean we're dodging social distancing rules. In fact, those I spoke to were turned off by people (particularly men) rushing to meet in person, or proudly proclaiming that they have antibodies in their Tinder bios.

Sofía, a woman using dating apps, told me, "I feel like dudes are way more in doomsday mode if [I'm] being frank."

Prior to the pandemic, Sofía said it was difficult to engage in conversation and lead up to meeting in person. Now, matches are asking her to meet up right away — to have a drink in their home, for instance — and asking about sexual preferences early on in the conversation.

"I [obviously] have no issue talking about that but I feel like it shouldn't be the second question you ask me on a dating app," she said. She's also experienced an uptick of men DMing her on Instagram if they don't match with her.

That's not deterring Sofía from continuing to be on the apps and "finding a diamond in the rough," in her words. On whether she doomswipes, she said, "Catch me two tequila sodas in and I can doomswipe for HOURS."

Photographer Christina Casillo described her doomswiping in the same way as her "unstoppable scrolling on TikTok." It's not necessarily a spiral, said Casillo, but more of a way to fill a bottomless cup.

"I get in moods where I swipe and even when I match with people I’m like, 'Wait I don’t want to engage with ANY of you,'" said Casillo.

Pierce described similar activity. He said, "Matching with someone breaks that cycle of read, swipe, repeat in a way that almost puts me off from messaging anybody."

Swiping and matching without intent to meet makes sense to Leeth because of validation and the thrill of the chase. "Validation because even if we can’t meet — even if Idon’t plan to meet — if there is a match, then someone wanted me," he said.

Nadkarni said that generally, people are looking for a reprieve from social isolation. "For some, this has meant creating more ways to interact with others virtually," she said. "For others, this may mean building the fantasy of social connection even if the reality may not be possible."

Doomswiping is fine — in moderation

It's not exactly weird to want to escape reality or find connection right now. Dating app use, as with many behaviors, is fine in moderation. It becomes problematic, according to Presnall, if it distracts so much from your day-to-day activities that it subverts your true priorities.

"If you feel like there’s an emptiness to your swiping, ask yourself what unmet need you’re avoiding," said Presnall. "Perhaps you may need to engage in more nourishing self care, find a better community, or develop a hobby that you enjoy." Nadkarni also recommended maintaining self-careduring this time.

For those stuck in the swiping cycle, Leeth said, "You are so much more than your profile. Let's put that down for now (you can always go back), and work on the thing that is actually frustrating you."

For users, it may seem silly to (doom)swipe during a year as tumultuous as 2020 — but perhaps there's comfort knowing you're not the only one swiping into the void.

"Vast swaths of the west coast is on fire, huge parts of the midwest are worried about crop failures from a multi-day freeze, hurricanes are crashing into the south and south east, over 1000 people a day are dying from a pandemic, rent is still going up right alongside tuition, and healthcare is less affordable than ever," said Pierce.

"What on earth makes me think using a dating app or dating at all is a good idea right now? I have no idea but here I am, swiping away."

*some sources for this piece requested to be referred to by first name only

Do you have a story about pandemic dating you'd like to share? Email [email protected].