To me, there’s something grimy about matching with someone and going to their apartment 10 minutes later to bang.

) happier than I was watching notifications of a new match or message pop-up on my homescreen.

In more ways than one, being an active participant in the app world did so many damaging things for my self-confidence, my views on love and even how I acted on those dates.

That, I knew, from four hard years of being single and watching the whole process change and in many ways, worsen.

Even my mom taking over my Tinder account for a week confirmed this.

I met them in real situations and had genuine conversations.

I might not meet my future boyfriend simply by taking a stance against Tinder. Because when I do meet him, I don’t want to be annoyed that he wasn’t as tall as he said he was or he was trying to sleep with me in 10 minutes or that his smile wasn’t the same in person.

Tinder was the first to go, followed by Hinge and then Bumble.

When I read Vanity Fair’s article, ‘Tinder and the Dawn of the ‘Dating Apocalypse’—I found myself nodding along mindlessly, silently saying ‘Yep, yep, yep.’ I didn’t really need the article to tell me that dating apps had changed relationships, marriages and the process of finding someone that you want to see for longer than it takes to swipe left or right.

It’s a little out of my comfort zone since I’ve been so into the online game for so long, but it’s been an empowering way to be uncomfortable.