‘Forgive me, Reader: I ghost him.' The best dating apps, tested

Yahoo

14-05-2025

If you want to make a single person angry, ask them about dating apps. Chances are they've tried using them at least once – just under 5 million adults in the UK visited an online dating service in May 2024, according to Ofcom's Online Nation report – and will have a diatribe ready to go.
They might lament how the apps have gamified dating, turning us all into Charlie Brooker-engineered ciphers playing aimlessly with one another until we get bored. Perhaps they'll carp on about how vacuous it all feels, making snap judgments about whether or not someone is a potential life partner depending on their 'typical Sunday afternoon'. Or they'll complain about how the apps have plagued the dating landscape with callous cruelty, giving us myriad new methods to hurt one another. There's no shortage of complaints.
And yet, despite a dip in popularity, dating apps are still helping plenty of people fall in love at first swipe: roughly 10% of US adults who are in a relationship say they met their long-term partner online, according to the Pew Research Center.
I've been single for three years, so I was happy to put six of the best apps around to the test. After two months of using them all, and trying to keep an open mind about who I might meet and what could happen, I found out which dating apps are best for every type of dater, whether you're looking for lasting love or a summer fling.
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Best dating app overall:Hinge
Best for casual dating:Tinder
Best for inclusivity:Feeld
Best for relationships:Bumble
Best for beginners:Breeze
Best for older daters:Happn
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I'm a journalist, broadcaster and author with a decade of experience covering dating and relationships. I hosted the chart-topping podcast Millennial Love (later renamed Love Lives) for six years and published a nonfiction book of the same name in 2021, which examined the contemporary dating landscape through a feminist lens. I've created content around dating for BBC Three, Benefit and Student Beans, as well as hosting panels for Netflix, Cheltenham literature festival and Women of the World. I wrote a sex column for Soho House and am also a regular on the radio, having spoken about dating on BBC Woman's Hour, LBC and BBC Radio London. Relationships were a key theme in my debut novel, Gold Rush, which was published last summer.
I downloaded six dating apps and actively used them for two months. My choices included three of the most commonly used apps across the globe – Hinge, Tinder and Bumble – as well as three outliers that are becoming popular: Feeld, Breeze and Happn. For fairness, I discounted apps that were tailored to particular niches, such as Kippo (for gamers), Bristlr (for people who like beards) and GlutenFree Date (I love bread), as well as any designed for specific sexualities, religious groups or age ranges. These are worth exploring, but as a straight, agnostic, 30-year-old cisgender woman, I'm not best placed to do that.
All the apps were free, but I also tested a paid-for upgrade on each one to see if it was worth the money. I opted for the second cheapest where it was available (some apps have only one paid-for option while others have several tiers) because, in most cases, the cheapest upgrades offered fairly few features compared with the free versions, and I wanted to see how much my experience could change as a paid user.
My profiles were different on each of the apps and featured different photos. On Hinge, I went for sun-kissed holiday snaps. Bumble was similar, with the addition of selfies with my cat. On Feeld, I chose mostly festival pics: Glastonbury, Wilderness and All Points East. Breeze was the same. And by the time I got to Happn, it was a selection of recent Instagram snaps (mostly because, at this point, I was tired of trawling through photos of myself). On each of them, where possible, I stated my star sign (Gemini) and that I was looking for a long-term relationship.
Using six apps at once is not for the faint-hearted, not least because it makes it quite hard to take any of it seriously, let alone keep up with the admin. In some ways, the process is not unlike applying for a job or looking for somewhere to live. I'd suggest picking one app based on the features that appeal the most, and what you're looking for, as some apps are better for hook-ups while others are best suited to relationships.
That said, it always boils down to the individual. People defy the odds, stats and trends all the time. It's best to take the whole dating app experience with a hefty pinch of salt and humour. My advice is to try to have fun while being open, intentional and honest.
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Price: freePaid subscription options: Hinge+ £14.99/week: unlimited likes, view all incoming likes at once and advanced filtering preferences. HingeX £24.99/week: all of the above plus enhanced recommendations, priority likes, and 'skip the line', which means your profile is always boosted to other users.
Of all the dating apps I've included, Hinge is the one used by most people I know. Disclaimer: I've used this app before but had recently deleted it in a PMS-induced rage. So I redownloaded with fresh eyes. Creating a profile is straightforward: six photos or videos, three 'prompts', and basic info such as age, height and location, which is always visible. You have the option to add your education level, job, star sign, family plans, Covid vaccine status and vices, including drinking and drugs. Hinge allows you to answer all of these without showing them on your profile, but still tailoring your algorithm accordingly. The prompts ('my simple pleasures', 'change my mind about') can also be answered via voice note. You can add what you're looking for in a relationship, too.
You can send a message alongside a like (tapping, not swiping) by responding to a photo or prompt, as well as undoing your decision to say no to someone, features that most apps reserve for paid users. This is a good thing if, like me, you're someone who can swipe through dating apps somewhat mindlessly, like online shopping. You can also see who has liked you. Your likes, however, are limited; free users can send only eight a day. Users are given one 'rose', AKA a superlike, to distribute for free each week to help get the people you've liked to notice you. Messages are limited, too: you can't match with new people when you have eight or more unanswered messages in your inbox. This forces you to actually talk to your matches instead of using the app as a potential dopamine booster.
Hinge works out your type pretty quickly: within a week, I'm being served exclusively tall, bearded film-makers. Chats turned to dates quite quickly; most men asked for my number (or Instagram) within the first few messages. They're generally polite and flirty. If we've been consistently chatting for a day or two, they ask to meet. I say yes to a handful. One never replies to my WhatsApp about what time to meet after we'd already set the date. Another looks different from his photos and is also completely uninterested in me; we say our goodbyes after two drinks. A third is excellent. We date consistently for a few weeks until he moves to another city and reveals he isn't ready for a relationship. I'm not sure I can blame that on Hinge.
When I pay for HingeX, the second-cheapest upgrade at £24.99 a week, I am able to refine my searches, be recommended to matches sooner and enjoy enhanced recommendations based on what the app identifies as my type. I fancy everyone. I whittle my search results to the nth degree so that I'm only looking at men who want a long-term relationship, are open to having children and stand at least 6'0, which elicits guilt, shame, and shallowness. These feelings pass faster than I'm willing to admit publicly. Aside from this, the experience isn't all that different. I don't receive more matches or likes than usual (despite my likes being 'prioritised'), and in all honesty, the excessive search filters make me feel less like I'm looking for love and more like I'm shopping for a dress.
Number of users globally: about 23 millionAge range: three-quarters (73%) of users are 18-34, according to Ofcom data from 2024Is the paid-for upgrade worth it? Yes, if you're extraordinarily pickyInclusivity: three genders, nine gender identities, and 22 sexualitiesNumber of ghosts: oneNumber of dates: five and a several-weeks-long situationshipNumber of emotionally unavailable men that sent me back into therapy: one
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Price: freePaid subscription options:Tinder+ from £9.99/week gets you unlimited likes, unlimited rewinds, Passport to any location, hide ads, go incognito. Tinder Gold from £14.99/week gets you the above plus two free Super Likes a week, one free Boost a month, see who likes you, and new top picks every day (browse through a daily curated selection of profiles). Tinder Platinum from £19.99/week gets you all of the above plus prioritised likes, one free boost a month and three first impressions a week (you can send a message before matching).
The most popular dating app in the UK, according to Ofcom's data from 2024, Tinder is generally considered the behemoth of the industry. It's owned by the same company as Hinge: Match Group, which also owns Plenty of Fish, OkCupid and Stir. No longer a simple swipe-to-snog app, as it once was, today, Tinder has all sorts of bells and whistles. You can add up to nine photos or videos to your profile, three prompts ('a surprising thing about me is …', 'my hidden talent') and a 500-word story of your life in a dedicated 'About Me' section.
You can include up to 10 interests, with everything from 'Disney' to 'Britpop' on the table. The usuals (height, star sign, relationship goals) are all there alongside some niche additions, including 'personality type' and 'love style', referring to Myers & Briggs test results and love languages, respectively. There are also sections for dietary habits, social media activity and how much you sleep. On top of all that, you can answer quizzes about how you spend weekends and what you like to do on nights out.
It's a lot. Not to mention far more time-consuming than some of the other profile setup processes. Using the app itself requires a similar degree of dedication. Yes, you can swipe. But you can also filter your searches – a service most apps reserve for paid users – using categories such as 'long-term partner', 'short-term fun', and 'free tonight'. It's useful. But perhaps less so when the categories get increasingly niche: is swiping through fellow 'self-care' proponents or 'pet parents' really going to help me find lasting love?
Using the app feels like playing a game: the interface is full of cartoonish graphics and fluorescent colours. Swipe left and you elicit the words 'NOPE' in pink. Whereas you get a giant yellow 'LIKE' for a right swipe. The free version doesn't allow you to backtrack on swipes, meaning you have to be a little more careful, nor does it let you see who has liked you.
The men I speak to are friendly, attractive and polite. But in all honesty, I don't fancy any of them enough to go on a date. And my conversations mostly run dry. One 38-year-old man who works in tech speaks to me exclusively in platitudes that sound as if they've been ripped from ChatGPT: 'I'm looking for having fun and doing activities together right now.' Another immediately tries to lure me to WhatsApp so he can send photos of his recent hike (I decline) – generally, dating apps don't let you send images on their platforms. And a lot of them ghost me after just a few messages.
Tinder Gold, which costs from £14.99 a week and allows you to see who likes you, boost your profile once a month so that more users see you, and gives you curated profiles based on your previous likes, is overwhelming. After boosting myself for 30 minutes, I suddenly have more than 2,000 likes awaiting my response. I can filter these down by age, location, and whether they like film and travel, which I promptly do purely because I can. This efficiently reduces my search results, but sadly, I don't fancy anyone. I send a few super likes, which feels a little like poking someone on Facebook, and browse through my daily 'top picks' of profiles the app thinks I will like. This includes a very attractive 32-year-old athlete, but he's looking for something short-term. Though his bio says long-term is 'OK'. I know better than to swipe right on this one.
Number of users globally: about 47 million monthlyInclusivity: 22 gender identities and more than 10 sexual orientationsIs the paid-for upgrade worth it? No. If anything, it made the dating experience feel too stimulating Number of ghosts: sevenNumber of dates: zilchNumber of potential ChatGPT husbands: oneAge range: more than half (almost 60%) of users are 18-30
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Price: freePaid subscription options: You can get most of what you want from the app on its free version, but a Majestic Membership is available for £17.99 a month. Benefits include: unlimited likes, one free Ping + Note a day to help other users notice you, seeing who likes you, filter by desires, go incognito (hide your profile from Discover but still send likes), last seen, go back, private photos.
Launched as an app for threesomes, named 3nder, in 2014, Feeld was founded by Bulgarian-born Dimo Trifonov after he and his partner, Ana Kirova, opened their relationship. Last year, the company reported it had almost doubled its turnover to £39.5m. Today, it's a leading sex-positive, kink-friendly app that's slowly entering the mainstream, much to the chagrin of some of its OGs, who lament that Feeld has become 'too vanilla'.
Setting up a profile takes no time at all: six photos, a chosen 'Feeld name' (most people I come across use one initial), gender, sexuality, and an 'About' section you can fill with whatever you want for 1,500 characters. You can also list up to 10 desires as chosen from a selection that ranges from 'dates' and 'singles' to 'bondage' and 'being submissive'. You can include 10 interests, too, though this section is left open-ended; most users I see fill this section with sexual interests.
I've been on this app before – and the first person I saw was a 90-something Frenchman looking for a threesome. I'd advise setting your age range early on. With a straightforward and simply designed interface, Feeld is easy to use. It can be quite an intense experience at first if you're used to more conventional dating apps. One man asks what I'm interested in, and I naively waffle on about the latest series of Hacks. When I ask the same question, he replies with a paragraph about the societal benefits of oral sex. Another user I come across is simply called 'daddy issues'; his 'about me' section includes a reference to 'eight inches'.
According to the app's guidelines, nudity is banned. So I'm not sure why I see photos of six vaginas in one man's profile. A glitch in the sexual matrix, perhaps – Feeld told the Guardian that it uses automated tools to help identify and flag this type of content, and while its detection thresholds are set quite strictly, 'unfortunately there is always a margin for error'.
People move fast on Feeld: almost everyone I match with strikes up a conversation immediately, which is refreshing. On more than a handful of occasions, they suggest meeting the night we start speaking. This intimidates me, so I decline. Some men unmatch with me immediately for this. The dates I do manage to organise go well and in many cases, aren't dissimilar from those I'd have from other apps. These are professional, funny and attractive men. I'm certainly not one to kink shame, but some want to talk about sexual proclivities and BDSM dynamics right away, which I find a little jarring. But I don't have a spark with any of them, so nobody makes it past the first date.
On Feeld Majestic, which costs £17.99 a month, you can filter searches according to desire, send unlimited likes and see who likes you. I suddenly have 99+ likes to trawl through. It's fun to scroll through them all, and I like being able to go incognito – a Majestic-only feature – so that only the people I've liked see my profile. Feeld does feel more sex-focused, so the privacy is welcome. The most interesting paid feature, however, is that I can filter people according to their desires. Feeling coy, I choose 'dates', 'intimacy', and 'kissing'. In all honesty, I don't know what a lot of the kinks mean ('being a brat tamer', anyone?), but regardless, I find plenty of people I fancy. I start talking to one I'm hopeful about, mostly because I'm familiar with all of his kinks. But he chastises me for forgetting I was going to be on holiday the week we agreed to meet: 'So when you said next week, you could have said you were going away.' I find this weirdly aggressive and ghost him.
Number of users globally: Feeld keeps this data private, but tells the Guardian that membership has grown by more than 50% year on year since 2022.Inclusivity: 20 genders and 20 sexualitiesAge range: Feeld also keeps this data private, but says it's mostly millennialsIs the paid-for upgrade worth it? Yes, if you're a very private person with specific kinksNumber of unmatches: fourNumber of dates: threeNumber of unsolicited photos of vaginas: six
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Price: freePaid subscription options: Bumble Boost: £24.99/month for unlimited likes, unlimited backtrack, five 'SuperSwipes' each week (your likes are more likely to get noticed), one spotlight a week (be shown ahead of other users for 30mins), unlimited backtrack, unlimited extends (add an extra 24 hours to start chats), unlimited rematch (get a second chance to chat). Bumble Premium: £39.99/month for all of the above, plus see who likes you, advanced filters, incognito mode and travel mode. Bumble Premium+: £69.99/month for all of the above, plus fast-track your likes (be seen sooner by the people you've liked), Bumble will boost your profile at the best times every day, photo insights that tell you which photos people like the most, 10 SuperSwipes a week, two spotlights a week, two compliments a week (send a kind note before you match).
From its inception in 2014, Bumble's USP was that women made the first move, a premise that earned it a reputation as being an app for hot, feminist straight men. Last year, the app did a U-turn, allowing women to add prompts to their profiles that men can respond to. For same-sex and non-binary users, either person can initiate the conversation or set and respond to a prompt. Still, if you don't start a conversation, the match expires after 24 hours. If you're indecisive, you can extend one match every day. Sadly, you can't backtrack on the free version. So swipe with caution.
The profiles are comprehensive: six photos or videos plus space for five interests and – a unique one – three causes or communities you care about. Options include Black Lives Matter, feminism, trans rights and reproductive rights. You can also choose three qualities you care about in a partner, such as kindness, ambition and sassiness. In addition to the usual basics, you can also write a short bio and share information on your exercise habits, your star sign, your politics and what you're looking for. For music lovers, you can also connect your account to your Spotify, which might provide some easy talking points.
You can swipe through users quickly and easily, or choose from a 'recommended for you' section filled with users Bumble chooses based on your profile and past matches. The quality of men seems high to me: plenty of people I fancy and find easy to flirt with. I also like how many of them ask what I'm looking for right away. One man responds to a Giphy I send showing Simon Cowell shrugging his shoulders with 'Guess you're going to need a lot of attention'. He later tells me that 50% of online interactions these days could be with bots and asks how he can know I'm not a bot. I'm unsure how to prove this. Forgive me, Reader: I ghost him.
As usual, a few chats peter out, while some move over to WhatsApp where they also eventually peter out. Still, I wind up having two dates with a dog-loving engineer (not my usual type; I'm trying something different), but after our second, the initial spark has fizzled. We say our goodbyes, and neither one of us contacts the other again. I should also mention the man in town from Australia for a few days, who invited me to his hotel mere minutes after we match. By the time I check the conversation again the following day to politely decline, he has deleted his account.
I upgrade to Bumble Premium, which costs £39.99 a month and gives you advanced filters, unlimited likes and five SuperSwipes a week, as well as being able to see who likes you. I'm told 627 people have liked me. Where are all these people when I'm out and about, I wonder? I can filter my likes according to their star sign, which thrills me because it's usually one of the first things I ask men. I choose all my most compatible ones – Aries, Libra, Aquarius – and begin browsing. There are some solid discoveries, including a handsome 34-year-old mountaineer and a downright gorgeous 37-year-old neurologist – I open with a terrible joke about the nervous system ('How are your dating nerves?') and he doesn't reply. One perk of Premium that I enjoy is being able to backtrack on old matches that have expired; I do this on a few I regret having missed. But none of them reply to me. You snooze, you lose, I suppose.
Number of users globally: about 50 millionInclusivity: 25 genders, nine pronounsIs the paid-for upgrade worth it? No. It takes up too much time to make the most of the features Number of dates: twoNumber of times I was asked to explain 'sex positivity' because I'd chosen it as an interest on my profile: oneNumber of hotel invitations: one
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Price: free until you match with someone, after which you have to buy a date token or package of date tokens that will be used to fund your date. A date typically costs one date token, however, costs may vary depending on the chosen date. If you cancel the date after you've scheduled and paid for it, you won't be refunded. If your date cancels, you can get a refund. Paid subscription options:There is no upgraded paid version of Breeze; you simply pay for the dates.
Among the newest apps on the dating scene, Breeze is all about fostering real-life connections with the help of its app. Unlike all the other apps listed here, Breeze doesn't allow users to actually talk to each other. Instead, every day at 7pm, it shows you a series of profiles. The options are either 'not for me' or 'go for a drink'; if it's a match, you each fill in a date planner form, pay for the date, and then Breeze organises your first date for you with one of its partner bars. It's a unique, if slightly intimidating concept, one I was excited to try. There are two types of dates on offer: drinks at a bar (£9.50) and a walk and talk (£4.75). The price includes Breeze's service for matching and organising the date, as well as, in the former instance, a deal on your first drink with one of the app's partner bars.
Profiles comprise six photos or videos, up to 10 hobbies and interests, and three questions you can answer, eg 'my perfect holiday' and 'my core values'. You can also add up to 10 'lifestyle' tags, including traits ('passionate, chaotic') and your star sign. As usual, in addition to the basics, you can also put your drinking and smoking habits alongside your family plans and what you're looking for from dating.
It's easy to use; you can also add a filter for height, which is unusual. I'm only ever shown nine profiles at a time, so I whiz through them rather fast. It lacks the usual dopamine rush I've come to expect from dating apps, although I suppose that's the point. The algorithm favours active people; after a few consecutive days of diligently making decisions on my nine daily profiles, Breeze congratulates me and reassures me that my profile will be prioritised as a result and shown to more users. This is good news because for weeks, nobody matches with me. Then along comes Matt (not his real name), an attractive 34-year-old teacher. It's daunting having to commit to a date by paying £9.50 before I've even sent them a flirty emoji, and we have some difficulty agreeing on a time, not least because you can only arrange this through the app. Eventually, a date is set for two weeks' time.
I don't have Matt's contact information, or any way to speak to him on the app, so we can't actually chat until we meet in person. Two days before the big day, he cancels. I receive an apology, explaining he has to work late that night. We rearrange for the following week. But on the morning of our date, I receive another note. He has injured himself running and asks to reschedule for two days' time. This excuse seems tedious to me; and given it's the second time he has cancelled, I lose interest. I cancel the date and get my date token refunded to use with someone else. But I can't get the £9.50 back because I cancelled, which seems a little unfair given Matt was the flaky one, but there we are.
Regardless of Matt, I love the premise for Breeze; it's an antidote to dating app fatigue cultivated by endless swiping and insipid small talk. It claims to have organised 389,892 dates across more than 20 cities at the time of writing and has led to five babies.
Number of users globally: 972,000Inclusivity: three genders, though you can specify how you want to identify, and as for sexuality, this isn't listed on your profile. Instead, you can simply say you're interested in men, women, or 'people who identify differently'Age range: average age is 32 in the UKNumber of dates: one cancelled oneNumber of wistful daydreams about mysterious biotech consultants: three
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Price: freePaid subscription options: Premium subscription from £22.99/month offering unlimited likes, no ads, see who likes your profile, and five SuperCrushes a day, backtrack and more extensive search filters.
The premise for Happn is to date the hot people you walk past. The app was launched in Paris in 2014 and uses geolocation to help users match with people they've crossed paths with within a few kilometres' radius. Don't let the somewhat creepy USP put you off: nobody finds out your exact location. But you can see how many kilometres someone is from you.
You can have up to nine photos on your profile, and the information you can add knows no bounds. On top of the basics, you can include 10 hobbies and 10 places you like to visit, whether it's your local pub or favourite park, which the app uses to help align you with people who favour similar spots. You can write a short bio, too, and include your exercise habits, as well as whether you want children and how you like to eat; one option is 'junk food 4 eva'. In the 'what you're looking for' section, options range from standard ('long-term relationship' and 'open relationship') to ambiguous ('hangout' and 'sex friends'). You can also choose three 'teasers' AKA prompts, many of which are based around location, eg 'If I could visit one place it'd be …'
It's extensive, as is the rest of the app. You can decline someone by tapping a small yellow 'x' or like them by tapping a pink heart. Or you can 'SuperCrush' them, sending a message with your like, which Happn says means you're five times more likely to match. You can filter your searches quite extensively: whittling down your results by what someone is looking for, their views on kids and cigarettes, and their height. At first, I take this a little too seriously and put in all my preferences only to find my potential matches for the day reduced to, erm, five. After that, I either need to go out and about again to cross paths with more men or widen my scope somewhat. I choose the latter.
Generally speaking, the men I chat to are attractive and charming, trading recommendations for coffee spots in south London and favourite Japanese dishes. But the conversation never goes far beyond that, and I end up turning down the men who ask me out, because I don't think I'll have anything to talk to them about in person, and I'm not sure how much I'll fancy them, either.
There are other ways to find prospective suitors, though. Via Happn's 'Hub', you can browse a map to see who has added different places to their favourites list, as well as find someone you might've crossed paths with there. So I can zoom in on Battersea Park and see who has chosen that as one of their favourite places in London. I can also, rather strangely, zoom in on an area just a few roads away and see the 265 single men I've crossed paths with there.
There are also lifestyle and travel categories you can browse through to find matches. I can tap on 'hiking and backpack', for example, and look through users who've specifically put this as one of their hobbies. These are good ways to find common ground from the outset, giving you instant conversation starters. Happn also gives you daily roundups of users it thinks you might like. But if none of that floats your boat, you can also play a game called CrushTime to 'guess' who has liked you; if you guess correctly, you have the option to match with them.
It's overwhelming, to say the least. But it certainly offers single people something new and different in a pursuit that can easily slip into monotony, which is no bad thing.
Premium, which costs from £22.99 a month, offers unlimited likes, no adverts and gives me access to more in-depth search filters. I'm regularly encouraged to use my SuperCrushes, which means the people I like will see me first, and apparently be more likely to match with me. To be honest, I struggle to find enough people to send the SuperCrushes to; maybe I'm not crossing paths with enough men I'm attracted to, or this whole experience has made me so picky I'll never find love again. Regardless, I do once again enjoy looking through the people who've liked me. I'm not given a total number, which is rather helpful because it's less overwhelming, but unlike on the other apps' paid versions, I'm not able to filter my likes in any way. You win some, you lose some – a lot of time is also lost to endless scrolling.
Number of users globally: 165 millionInclusivity: three genders plus 20 additional identities users can add (though you need to contact customer services to change your gender on the app)Age range: More than half of users are between 35 and 54Is the paid-for upgrade worth it? No. There are already plenty of unnecessary features in the free versionNumber of dates: zilchNumber of restaurant recommendations: four
Olivia Petter is a journalist, broadcaster and author with more than a decade of experience in lifestyle, pop culture and cosplaying as Carrie Bradshaw. When she's not writing or panicking about not writing, she can be found watching old French films, spending too much money on vitamins and complaining about her love life to her cat, Blanche DuBois. She's a Gemini sun and Scorpio moon