Think dating online is hard when you’re young? Try being in your mid-thirties

Social media dating has caused teenage preganancies to decrease, but what about those of us who actually want to meet face to face?

By 2031 more than half of all couples will meet on the internet, according to research by online dating site eHarmony (REX Features)

Having read the news that teenage pregnancy as halved since 1998 because “socialising online is limiting the opportunity for sexual activity“, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit sad. While a decline in teenage pregnancy is obviously a good thing, it seems a shame that instead of hanging out with friends and flirting with the opposite sex, teenagers are now spending more time hunched over computers or phones in their bedrooms, making contact from the safety of a screen. It might give them the chance to edit and filter their lives while keeping up with their peers, but it no doubt makes them feel increasingly isolated too.

But this is not a phenomenon that is limited to teenagers. I am in my mid-thirties and, recently thrust back into the world of dating after a decade in a relationship, I’ve found that it has become a very different place – and not just because of my age. When I was last single, more than 10 years ago, it was easy to socialise with lots of people on nights out, whether at a pub or a party, meeting friends of friends or others with similar interests. So I started out quietly confident this time around, ignoring encouragement from friends that I needed to download the apps, get online and “get out there”. Surely I’d get to know new people pretty easily, just like before?

But they were right. A few months down the line, with not so much as a drink bought for me at a bar or a chat up line from a stranger, I relented and signed up.

Some of this is, undoubtedly, because I am a decade older. I rarely go out dancing anymore, most of my friends are coupled up and I am fishing in a much smaller pool, too. But this issue seems to be common to my younger single friends too.

One friend, in her mid-twenties, told me that she had recently been to a house party where she had spent the majority of the evening chatting to close friends, only vaguely aware of the other party guests. It was only the next day that she went on Tinder and matched with a guy who had been at the same party - and they have subsequently been on a number of dates. How ironic that they spent a whole evening in the same company, with ample chance to chat a get to know each other in real life, but instead connected afterwards from a safer distance.

By 2031 more than half of all couples will meet on the internet, according to research by online dating site eHarmony. I fear we are losing the skills to interact with each other in person. God forbid you have a face-to-face interaction with a 3D, flesh and blood human being when you can peruse endless numbers of potential suitors online, making snap judgements on them based on a selection of highly edited photographs, their taste in music or a list of hobbies, and with the option of “ghosting” them if you get cold feet (for the uninitiated, that means ignoring their messages and hoping they fade away).

Once singletons had no choice but to chat someone up, swap numbers and call them at home to arrange a date, yet that level of boldness seems mildly terrifying these days. Online dating apps and websites definitely have their place - especially in a sprawling city like London which can feel so full yet so lonely - but ultimately there is no substitute for human interaction.

You can spend weeks messaging someone who sounds witty and looks great in photos only to work out within five minutes of meeting that you just don’t click; the indefinable thing you are looking for in a partner just isn’t there.

In seeking to use technology to widen the pool and meet more people, online dating and dating apps have become more than just an additional fun way of getting to know others. They are increasingly the only way of meeting people at all.