The Hinge Experiment: No Matches. Maybe It’s Time to Delete the App?

Well, here we are again.

I opened Hinge, went to my matches, and was greeted by the same incredibly encouraging message:

“No matches right now.”

Thank you, Hinge.

I worried there might be a secret match hiding somewhere. Maybe someone had been trying desperately to reach me, but the app had misplaced her.

Nope.

Still nobody.

Since my last round of matches—Kelli, Missing Gina and Me—there have been no new matches.

Zero.

The Hinge Experiment has become less of a dating experiment and more of a controlled scientific study examining how long a bald man can stare at an empty screen before deleting an app.

At Least Somebody Is Interested in Me

There is some good news.

While my Hinge traffic is approximately equal to that of an abandoned shopping mall...

the traffic to NielFlamm.com is up substantially.

Apparently, people are much more interested in reading about me trying to date than actually dating me.

I'm not sure whether to celebrate or seek professional marketing advice.

On Hinge:

No matches right now.

On NielFlamm.com:

Come on in!

Maybe I've discovered my true calling.

Not dating.

Writing about the complete absence of dating.

At least one of those appears to have an audience.

Hinge Has a Solution, Naturally

The screenshot makes me laugh because immediately underneath “No matches right now,” Hinge offers two helpful possibilities:

Boost your profile.

Or...

Upgrade to HingeX.

Ahhhhh.

The problem may be solvable with a credit card.

I see.

Nothing says romance quite like:

“Congratulations! Nobody wants to talk to you. Would you like to purchase additional features?”

I'm not convinced.

I'm not desperate to meet someone, and I'm definitely not interested in spending money to make my dating life look more active than it is.

It would be nice to meet someone.

That's still true.

But if it doesn't happen on Hinge, it doesn't happen on Hinge.

Maybe It’s Time to End the Experiment

I'm starting to seriously wonder whether I've gotten everything I'm going to get from this app.

I started with Tinder.

That became an experiment.

Then I moved to Hinge.

That became another experiment.

There were matches.

There were messages.

There were “good mornings.”

There were unanswered questions.

There were almost-dates.

There were phone numbers offered.

There was silence.

There were unmatches.

And now we've arrived at the grand finale:

An empty queue.

Maybe Hinge really is “designed to be deleted.”

Just perhaps not for the reason I originally hoped.

Then There’s Thailand...

Another wrinkle in this story.

I've been exploring the possibility of eventually spending part of my life in Thailand, and I've had people tell me something interesting:

My dating prospects may look very different there.

We'll see.

I'm certainly not booking an international flight because somebody promised me a better dating pool.

I'm interested in Thailand for reasons much bigger than dating. If that chapter happens, it will involve figuring out where and how I want to live, healthcare, dialysis, cost of living, culture, food, and whether I can build a life there that I actually enjoy.

But apparently, I've been told that being me may not be quite the dating catastrophe that my current Hinge screen would suggest.

Let's review the merchandise:

Bald?

Yep.

One leg?

Definitely.

ESRD?

Check.

Eyes that have required enough work to qualify for their own frequent-patient program?

Also check.

And yet I've been told:

“You'll do fine in Thailand.”

Well, that's quite the sales pitch.

I don't know whether that's actually true, and I'm certainly not assuming women in another country are going to react to me in any particular way.

They're individuals, not a demographic dating guarantee.

But I admit...

I'm curious.

Maybe the Problem Isn’t Something That Needs Fixing

That's probably the biggest takeaway from this experiment.

I'm not interested in reinventing myself to generate matches.

I have a complicated life.

I have scars.

I have medical realities.

I have recovery.

I have boundaries.

I have one leg.

I have no hair.

I have questionable eyesight.

I tend to write about things on the internet that most sane people would probably keep private.

And somehow I've also acquired an imaginary iguana named Steve.

This is the package.

I'm not everyone's cup of tea.

That's okay.

I'm not looking for everyone.

I'd eventually like to find one woman where the interest, effort, attraction, humor, and conversation go both ways.

If that happens in South Carolina, wonderful.

If someday it happens in Thailand, wonderful.

If it happens somewhere completely unexpected, even better.

And if it takes a while?

I have a life to live in the meantime.

So, Is Hinge Getting Deleted?

I haven't decided yet.

But for the first time since starting this experiment, I'm seriously considering it.

The current standings are difficult to misinterpret:

Matches: 0.

Conversations: 0.

Dates: 0.

NielFlamm.com traffic: UP.

Maybe that's the universe telling me something.

Or maybe it's just an algorithm telling me to buy HingeX.

Either way, I'm listening.

And Steve?

Don't start packing for Thailand yet. 🦎

The Hinge Experiment: Behold, My Magnificent Collection of Absolutely Nothing

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the current state of The Hinge Experiment™.

Please try to contain your excitement.

As of this post, this is what my Hinge match queue looks like:

“No matches right now.”

That's it.

That's the update.

Thank you for coming.

Look at All That Room!

I mean, seriously.

Look at this magnificent screen.

Clean.

Uncluttered.

Organized.

Not a single pesky match taking up valuable digital real estate.

Marie Kondo would be proud.

After unmatching Kelli, Missing Me, and most recently Gina, I have achieved something few people have the courage to accomplish on a dating app:

Inbox Zero.

Except it's not email.

It's women.

Okay, that sounded significantly worse than I intended.

Moving on.

Hinge Has Some Suggestions

What I particularly enjoy is that Hinge doesn't simply tell me:

“No matches right now.”

It immediately follows that with what feels suspiciously like:

“Would you like to give us some money for that?”

There's a giant:

BOOST YOUR PROFILE

button.

And underneath that:

UPGRADE TO HINGEX

Ohhhhh.

I see how this works.

Hinge is basically standing next to my completely empty dating queue whispering:

"That's a shame. You know... perhaps your credit card could help."

Nice self-esteem you have there.

Be a shame if something happened to it.

But I'm Not Panicking

Here's the thing.

I'm actually okay with this.

Would I like to have a match?

Sure.

Would I like to be talking with someone?

Absolutely.

Would I like to meet someone, go out, laugh, have dinner, see a movie, take a drive somewhere, and eventually have someone special in my life?

Yes.

But as I wrote recently:

I'm not desperate.

There's a difference between wanting companionship and needing to manufacture it.

I'm not keeping conversations open simply so I can look at my Hinge account and say:

“See! Three women!”

If nobody is communicating, what's the point?

Kelli had her opportunity.

Missing Me almost became Meeting Me.

Gina had her opportunity.

Those conversations went nowhere.

So I cleaned house.

And now...

BEHOLD THE HOUSE.

It's extremely clean.

Possibly condemned.

But definitely clean.

“Matches Are More Intentional on Hinge”

The screen also informs me:

“Matches are more intentional on Hinge.”

Well, they are certainly being VERY intentional about not matching with me.

I respect the commitment.

There's no ambiguity here.

No mixed signals.

No “Good morning” followed by 72 hours of silence.

Just a giant empty screen saying:

NOPE.

In a strange way, it's refreshing.

So What Happens Now?

Nothing changes.

I'm still on Hinge.

I'll continue looking.

I'll continue sending likes when someone seems interesting.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get a match.

Maybe next week.

Maybe someone will eventually appear who actually wants to have a conversation.

And maybe—this is where we're getting wildly optimistic—we'll use this dating app to arrange an actual date.

Imagine the possibilities.

Until then, I'm not paying someone to pretend the empty queue isn't empty.

I'm certainly not going to become discouraged because an algorithm hasn't delivered my forever-after on schedule.

I've got plenty of other things happening in my life.

Dating would be an addition.

Not the definition of it.

Current Official Hinge Standings

Kelli: Unmatched.

Missing Me: Unmatched.

Gina: Unmatched.

Current conversations: 0.

Current matches: 0.

Upcoming dates: 0.

Hinge suggesting I spend money: Naturally.

Steve the Iguana's confidence level: Becoming absolutely unbearable. 🦎

I'm starting to picture him sitting next to me, looking at this screen with that smug reptile face.

"Told you, dude. Get me a leash and let's hit the beach."

Not yet, Steve.

Not yet.

The Hinge Experiment continues.

And for anyone interested in joining the cast...

Apparently, there are openings.

The Hinge Experiment: Gina Has Been Unmatched, and I’m Perfectly Fine With That

Another one bites the dust.

It's time for another update from The Hinge Experiment™, and today's roster move is official:

I unmatched Gina.

No dramatic confrontation.

No angry final message.

No lengthy explanation.

No sad music playing while I stared thoughtfully out a rain-covered window.

I hit Unmatch.

Because at some point, you have to ask yourself:

Why am I keeping this chat open?

There Was Nowhere Left to Go

Gina and I matched before “Missing Me,” so she'd actually been hanging around The Hinge Experiment for a while.

There were messages.

There were pauses.

There were more messages.

There were significantly more pauses.

I tried asking questions.

I asked about her day.

I asked about her meeting.

I asked whether she was available.

Finally, I went with the incredibly complicated, deeply philosophical question:

“What's your number?”

And...

Nothing.

Could she still have responded eventually?

Sure.

Tomorrow?

Maybe.

Next week?

Possibly.

November?

Who knows?

Perhaps in 2032 I'll receive a carrier pigeon carrying her phone number.

But I'm not waiting.

An Open Chat Isn't a Relationship

This is something I'm starting to realize during this whole experiment.

There's no prize for accumulating matches.

I'm not collecting Pokémon.

A match sitting in my inbox isn't evidence that my dating life is thriving.

If we're not talking, we're not getting to know each other.

If we're not getting to know each other, we probably won’t meet.

And if we're never going to meet, what's the point of leaving the conversation sitting there?

Unmatch.

Next.

Not out of anger.

Not because I think she owes me anything.

She doesn't.

It's simply recognizing when something isn't going anywhere.

Here's the Bigger Thing: I'm Not Desperate

I think this distinction matters.

I'm not desperate to find someone.

Would I like to find someone?

Absolutely.

It would be nice.

I want someone to go to dinner with.

Someone to see a movie with.

Someone to take a completely unnecessary road trip with.

Someone to laugh with.

Someone who can carry half a conversation without me feeling like I'm conducting a deposition.

Someone who occasionally asks me a question.

Crazy standards, apparently.

But there's a big difference between:

“I'd like someone in my life.”

and

“I need someone in my life.”

I don't need to force something simply because I don't want to be alone.

I don't need to keep dead conversations alive just because they're technically matches.

And I certainly don't need to convince someone to be interested in me.

If someone wants to talk to me?

Great.

If someone wants to meet me?

Even better.

If someone isn't interested?

That's okay too.

I'm Looking for Mutual Effort

Maybe that's what The Hinge Experiment has actually taught me so far.

I'm not looking for perfection.

I'm not looking for someone who immediately reorganizes her entire life because we matched Tuesday afternoon.

I'm looking for reciprocity.

I'll ask questions.

Ask me some.

I'll make an effort.

Make one too.

I'll suggest meeting.

If you're interested, help me make that happen.

Scheduling coffee shouldn't require a project manager, three status meetings, and a Gantt chart.

And if I'm doing all the work to keep a basic conversation alive?

That's probably not the conversation I'm looking for.

The Hinge Roster Is Getting Awfully Small

Let's check the historical standings.

Kelli: Unmatched.

Missing Me: Unmatched.

Gina: Unmatched.

New matches: Well...

About that.

The Hinge offices aren't exactly overwhelmed processing my incoming requests.

But that's okay.

I'd rather have zero matches than stare at three conversations that aren't going anywhere and pretend something is happening.

I'm still on Hinge.

I'm still open to meeting someone.

I'm still hopeful that eventually I'll match with someone where the conversation doesn't feel like I'm trying to start a lawn mower that's been sitting in a garage since 1987.

Pull.

Nothing.

Pull again.

Nothing.

Prime it.

Pull.

GOOD MORNING!

And then silence.

Would It Be Nice?

Yes.

That's really where I am.

Would it be nice to find someone?

Absolutely.

Someone funny.

Someone smart.

Someone interesting.

Someone who wants companionship but already has a life of her own.

Someone who actually wants to meet instead of becoming my longtime digital pen pal.

But I'm not racing against a clock.

I'm not trying to fill a vacancy.

I'm not going to turn every match into something it isn't because I desperately need The Hinge Experiment to have a happy ending.

If it happens, it happens.

Until then, I have a life to live.

And apparently...

an increasingly unemployed imaginary iguana named Steve. 🦎

Although given the current match statistics, Steve probably shouldn't make any long-term plans.

The Hinge Experiment continues.

The roster is currently accepting applications.

“Don’t You Meet Single Women at Recovery Meetings?”

As I've continued documenting The Hinge Experiment™, I've had a thought that I'm sure some people reading along have had too:

“Niel, don't you meet single women at recovery meetings?”

Well...

Yes.

There are women at recovery meetings.

Some very smart, incredibly funny, interesting, and great-looking women are at the meetings I attend.

But there's a pretty significant difference between noticing that someone is attractive and treating a recovery meeting like Hinge with folding chairs and bad coffee.

And I'm very intentional about that.

There's This Thing Called the “13th Step”

If you're unfamiliar with recovery culture, you may have heard of the 12 Steps.

There is no official Step 13.

The “13th Step” is a slang term commonly used when someone—particularly someone with more time in recovery—pursues a romantic or sexual relationship with someone who may be new or vulnerable in recovery.

That's something I have zero interest in doing.

I'm not going to a meeting looking for dates.

I'm not scanning the room thinking:

Single? Married? Divorced? Hinge? Tinder? Is it complicated?

That's not why I'm there.

People walk into recovery meetings dealing with all kinds of things. Some are having fantastic days. Others may be having one of the worst days of their lives.

The last thing I want is for a woman to wonder whether I'm being friendly because I'm genuinely welcoming her or because I'm trying to get her phone number.

I don't want to be that guy.

I Don't Even Know Who's Single

There's also one tiny problem with the theory that I should simply meet someone at a meeting:

I have absolutely no idea who is available.

I don't ask.

Someone could be married.

Dating.

Engaged.

Recently divorced.

Separated.

Happily single.

Not interested in men.

Not interested in dating.

Or perhaps interested in dating, just very specifically not interested in me.

All perfectly legitimate possibilities.

Unlike Hinge, nobody arrives at a meeting with a little sign above her head saying:

“Single. Looking for long-term relationship. Likes dogs, tacos and communication.”

And I'm certainly not walking around afterward conducting a relationship census.

“Hi, great share tonight. By the way, are you seeing anybody?”

No.

Absolutely not.

I'd like to continue being welcomed back.

But Yes, I Notice

Now, I'm also not going to pretend I've suddenly lost the ability to see.

There are women I've met through recovery who are smart, funny, attractive, interesting and genuinely enjoyable to talk to.

Of course I notice.

I'm sober.

I'm not dead.

Sometimes you meet someone and think:

Wow, she's really funny.

Or:

She's incredibly smart.

Or, yes:

She's really attractive.

And then I do something truly revolutionary:

I go to the meeting.

Because there's a time and place for everything.

Then There's One Other Minor Problem

I'm shy.

Yes.

Me.

The guy who writes about his dating life on the internet.

The guy who publicly chronicles getting ghosted.

The guy who invented an imaginary iguana named Steve as an alternative dating strategy.

Shy.

Put me behind a keyboard, and apparently I'll tell the internet everything.

Put an attractive woman six feet away from me and suddenly my brain starts buffering.

Loading...

Loading...

Still loading...

Eventually:

“Hey.”

Outstanding work, Niel.

Absolutely crushed it.

Maybe that's part of why dating apps appealed to me in the first place. There's an obvious context.

We're both on Hinge.

We matched.

Presumably, there is at least some mutual interest.

At a recovery meeting, none of that information exists.

And I don't want to make assumptions.

Could I Ever Date Someone I Met in Recovery?

Sure.

I'm not saying I have some absolute rule that I could never date anyone I've met through recovery.

Life isn't that black and white.

If two people have established recovery, get to know each other naturally, discover they're both available, and there's genuine mutual interest, that's entirely different from going to meetings hunting for dates.

Intention matters to me.

I want women to feel comfortable around me at meetings.

I want someone to be able to talk to me without wondering whether I'm interpreting basic friendliness as romantic interest.

And I especially never want someone who's vulnerable or early in recovery to feel like I'm circling.

That's a boundary I'm comfortable having.

So Back to Hinge We Go...

Which brings us back to my current dating situation.

Hinge isn't exactly setting the world on fire.

Gina has gone silent.

The new matches have dried up.

The dates remain theoretical.

But at least on Hinge, there's one thing everyone has presumably agreed upon:

We're there to meet somebody.

At recovery meetings, I'm there for recovery.

And if someday I naturally connect with someone through that community and something develops outside the rooms?

Wonderful.

Until then, I'm not turning a meeting into singles night.

Besides, my shyness would probably ruin the entire plan anyway.

And if Hinge continues at its current pace...

There's always Steve.

The iguana has no problem approaching strangers. 🦎

The Hinge Experiment: Gina Is Silent, the Matches Have Stopped, and Steve Is Getting Nervous

It's time for another update from The Hinge Experiment™.

Unfortunately, this update won't take very long because...

NOTHING HAS HAPPENED.

Remember Gina?

I made what I considered another bold move in the world of modern dating.

I asked her:

“What's your number?”

Four words.

Direct.

Simple.

No ambiguity.

No 900-word explanation.

No discussion of cryptocurrency.

No request to move to WhatsApp.

No smoke signals.

Just:

What's. Your. Number?

And the response?

Absolutely Nothing

No number.

No message.

No “I'd rather keep talking here.”

No “I'm not comfortable giving you my number yet.”

No “Thanks, but I'm not interested.”

Not even one of those increasingly familiar:

“Good morning.”

Nothing.

The Hinge communication department is apparently closed for renovations.

Now, to be fair, it hasn't been an eternity. People have lives. People work. People get busy. People don't necessarily check dating apps every 13 minutes.

I understand all of that.

But this is becoming a familiar pattern in The Hinge Experiment.

Match.

Say hello.

Attempt conversation.

Ask questions.

Try to move things toward an actual meeting.

And then...

WELCOME TO THE VOID.

And There Aren't Any New Contestants

Here's the other exciting development:

I haven't gotten any new matches either.

None.

Zero.

Nada.

The Hinge bullpen is empty.

Apparently, the greater Charleston-area female population collectively looked at my profile and decided:

“We're good.”

Fair enough.

I can't force the algorithm to love me.

But it's funny when you consider how this experiment started.

I joined Hinge after ending my Tinder experiment. Almost immediately, I got a match.

I thought:

OH! HINGE IS DIFFERENT!

Look at this!

People actually match here!

Maybe the whole “designed to be deleted” thing is real!

Well...

Technically, an app can be designed to be deleted for multiple reasons.

Let's Review the Starting Lineup

We've had quite the roster.

Kelli.

A promising beginning that evolved into a fascinating study of how many different ways two people can say “Good morning” without actually having a conversation.

Unmatched.

Then there was Missing Me.

She asked questions!

We communicated!

I asked her out!

She said Sunday could work!

For approximately 36 glorious hours, I thought The Hinge Experiment was about to produce its first actual date.

Then Sunday arrived.

Missing Me lived up to her name.

Missing.

Unmatched.

And then...

Gina.

Gina and I matched before Missing Me, so she's practically a veteran of the program.

We've exchanged messages.

I've asked about getting together.

I've tried moving the conversation forward.

Finally, I threw the pitch right down the middle:

“What's your number?”

And now I'm standing at home plate wondering whether the catcher, umpire, and entire opposing team quietly went home.

Am I Doing This Wrong?

I keep coming back to the same question:

How do people actually meet?

Because I'm beginning to suspect dating apps may not be the answer.

At least not for me.

I'm not expecting someone to fall madly in love after three messages.

I'm not asking anyone to update her Facebook relationship status before appetizers.

I don't have a U-Haul sitting in the driveway.

I'd simply like to get from:

MATCH

to

CONVERSATION

to

PHONE CALL

to

“Hey, want to grab something to eat?”

That progression doesn't seem completely unreasonable.

Instead, I'm discovering an entirely different dating funnel:

MATCH → GOOD MORNING → GOOD MORNING → QUESTION → SILENCE → UNMATCH

I should put that on a PowerPoint.

Meanwhile, Steve Is Watching

For newer readers, Steve is my imaginary iguana.

Steve was created as my contingency plan.

If dating apps don't work, I'm getting a reptile and becoming that guy walking around the beach with an iguana on his shoulder.

Everybody talks to that guy.

Nobody knows his name.

Nobody understands his life choices.

But everyone wants to meet the lizard.

At first, Steve was a joke.

Then he became a recurring character.

Now?

I'm starting to think I should research iguana ownership.

Because here's the uncomfortable truth:

Steve would probably generate more conversations in one afternoon on the beach than I've generated through weeks of Hinge.

And Steve doesn't even have a profile.

So Where Does The Hinge Experiment Go From Here?

For now, I'm still on it.

Gina is still there.

She can respond.

Maybe she will.

Maybe another match will suddenly appear.

Maybe someone will shock me by asking a question, answering one of mine, having an actual conversation, and agreeing to meet.

I'm open to being surprised.

But as of today's official standings:

New matches: 0

Response from Gina: 0

Upcoming dates: 0

Iguanas currently owned: 0

That final statistic is the most likely to change.

The Hinge Experiment continues.

For now.

Steve...

start stretching.