Time Well Spent? Rhythms of Dating on Apps before,during and after COVID-19 Social Restrictions

Abstract

This article examines how the COVID-19 pandemic brought to the fore the disruption of temporal and rhythm norms among dating app users. Based on 53 retrospective interviews, the study found a transformation from short and quick interactions aimed at finding ideal partners to ‘slow intimacy’ characterised by deeper, prolonged conversations. As restrictions lifted, there was a return to previous dating habits, highlighting how what was experienced by many as a transformative moment in online dating was undermined by the resilience of established social rhythms despite temporary disruptions. The study underscores the complex interplay between individual agency, social norms and constraints in online dating practices associated with what we term neoliberal temporal normativities. It reveals that dating rhythms are influenced by interactions with other users and the app, rather than being determined by individual preferences, as users navigate their desires within the temporal constraints of the platform and prevailing social norms.

Introduction

In February 2024, the Guardian showcased photographs from the COVID-19 pandemic in a project titled ‘Moments Frozen in Time’ (The Guardian, 2024). The images depicted individuals at home or in nature, alone or with others, often engrossed in screens or gazing into the distance. This imagery of time standing still was frequently used in media portrayals of the pandemic (Buckley, 2022; Noguchi, 2022; Piskorz, 2020). The UK government’s lockdown measures from March 2020 to July 2021 enforced strict social distancing, confining people to their homes except for essential activities. For many, the pandemic disrupted daily routines, cancelled plans and moved celebrations online, creating a sense of temporal disorientation as days blended together or seemed interminable (Nash and Lyon, 2023).

In a different context, the feeling of being stuck in time was articulated in Lahad’s (2012) conceptualisation of singlehood. According to Lahad, singlehood is a social category that is expected to be only temporary and is judged harshly when it lasts beyond its socially accepted timeframe. As Lahad (2012: 178) puts it, ‘lifelong singlehood marks an unexpected disruption of a seemingly normative liminal state that has unexpectedly become permanent’. Lahad argues that although the field of singlehood studies and sociology of time rarely intersect, they can shed light on the ways in which social time is reflected and reproduced in our intimate, familial lives and vice versa.

This article takes up Lahad’s call to study the intersection of time and intimate relationships by drawing on qualitative data from a study of heterosexual and LGBQ+ (lesbian, gay, bisexual and queer identified) people’s use of dating apps before, during and after COVID-19, to examine time and rhythm in dating apps. The article illuminates how moments of social crisis, such as the pandemic, impact on the rhythms that underlie online dating and can open up new ways of connecting among dating app users. The data suggest that prior to COVID-19, dating app connections were shaped by temporal conventions that encouraged users to jump between potential matches in pursuit of an ideal partner while avoiding perceived time-wasting. During the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, such conventions were temporarily altered, allowing for the rise of what we term ‘slow intimacy’, where a range of prolonged and valued interactions could flourish. However, following the lifting of government restrictions, participants noted a return to fast-paced dating, which many were dissatisfied with, and which underscores the deeply embedded nature of temporal norms that frame romantic and other intimate connections as a race against time. The article illuminates the social dynamics that promote the dominant time conventions of ‘faster intimacy’ in online dating, but also users’ agency in pursuing slow intimacy as an alternative. By revealing the dynamics of how online dating norms are shaped by technological developments, broader social forces and individual agency, the article demonstrates the sociological value of focusing on the intersection of time and intimacy.

Time, Rhythms and Dating Apps

Time and Social Order

When discussing a nebulous concept such as time, sociologists often note that it can be conceived as natural and social, objective and subjective. On the one hand, as West-Pavlov (2012) stresses, time is concrete and beyond our control: time passes and ‘we have no choice in the matter’ (West-Pavlov, 2012: 44). At the same time, scholarship on time often stresses the notion that it is man-made (Durkheim, 1961; Leach, 1971). Researchers claim that units of time, and the way we assess its passage and value are constructs that are essential to social order. Through the concept of time we regulate, orient, enact and give meaning to common and rare occurrences (Adam, 1990; Hassard, 1990; Zerubavel, 1981). The understanding that time is both objective and subjective, biological and social has motivated scholars to examine how social actors understand, manage and manipulate time for their benefit (Nowotny, 1994; Thomas and Bailey, 2009).

Zerubavel’s (1981) work on time explored temporal regularity, showing how social life is structured through rigid patterns. He described our operation within linear structures where events are ordered as ‘before’ and ‘after’, allowing us to plan for the future and understand the past. Zerubavel highlighted the social construction of time sequences and their pacing, using romantic courtship as an example. Thus, he suggested, couples follow unwritten rules about the order and timing of steps in a relationship, such as the ‘sex on the third date’ rule that is often echoed in popular culture (Medium, 2023). While Zerubavel’s work has significantly contributed to the academic understanding of time, his theory is constrained by a heteronormative perspective and somewhat outdated romantic scripts. Therefore, we adapt his arguments to analyse dating app users’ experiences, incorporating the diverse ways people seek to satisfy their desires for intimacy, love and relationships today.

From the perspective of the social structuring of time, those who do not follow the social prescriptions of sequencing and pacing can be viewed as morally and normatively deviant (Perrier, 2013; Zerubavel, 1981). One of the reasons for this, as scholars of time often address, is the tie between time conventions and the capitalist social order (Nowotny, 1994; West-Pavlov, 2012; Zerubavel, 1981). It has been argued that under late capitalist regimes, individuals are expected to use their time productively and efficiently and should refrain from ‘wasting their time’, since, as the old aphorism goes, ‘time is money’. Such interchangeability of time and money was articulated by West-Pavlov (2012) who suggested that under late capitalism, time is yet another currency that is reified, quantified and exchanged. Zerubavel (1981: 58) has argued that individuals are ‘becoming specialists in the fairly sophisticated art of “killing time”’, where people internalise social pressures to ensure that every moment of their lives, even non-working hours, will be productive, not go to waste, or be spent idly. Productivity, in this sense, is not only applicable to the area of paid or unpaid domestic work, but also the efforts put into consistently producing and reproducing the self as a valued partner, family and community member, and citizen. The ways in which individuals manage their time, therefore, is considered a reflection of their character and sense of responsibility (Southerton, 2020). Elsewhere, Sugarman and Thrift (2020: 807) argue that taken together, a range of factors associated with neoliberalism have led to a ‘culture of urgency and shift in the understanding of human fulfilment’. Viewing the hegemonic culture in this way, raises the issue of shifting meanings and practices of dating and intimacy and if these have yet to be fully grasped by the sociology of intimacy and personal life. Such developments can be conceptualised as the basis for a neoliberal temporal normativity – what we term non-liberal temporalities – that permeates all aspects of life, including personal life. From this perspective, how individuals manage their time can be judged a reflection of their sense of self, character, personal responsibility and social worth (see Southerton, 2020).

The need to manage one’s time efficiently has been argued to have become ever more intense with technological innovations, including the digitalisation of everyday life. As Southerton (2020: 81) suggested:

Technologies allow us to do things faster, to cook faster, move faster [. . .] contact friends and family, reply to queries at work and so on. This, however, effectively creates a culture of speed – we eat faster, drink faster and talk faster.

In other words, with technological and digital innovations, such as e-mails, video conferencing and smartphone apps that appear to save time, time can be experienced as more time-limiting than ever. According to Gleick (1999) the perception of time acceleration and scarcity is partly linked to the adoption of time management norms, coupled with the proliferation of services and goods, which has resulted in a societal inclination to prioritise speed over everything else. The constant sense of rush and urgency that Southerton (2020) describes can leave people feeling that there is little room for fulfilling social connections and appreciating one’s life.

Despite the constraints associated with neoliberal temporalities, researchers have also argued that ‘temporal agency’ can exist (Nielsen et al., 2021), as individuals navigate time instead of experiencing it passively (Hitlin and Elder, 2007). Flaherty (2012: 250–251) notably described ‘time work’ as a form of agency and argued that we can resist ‘external sources of temporal constraint or structure’, and ‘not allow time to simply happen upon us’. In this manner, people can reject scheduling, pacing and longevity of events, or resist the meaning provided to them. People are not simply subjected to time, but can be active agents in resisting, negotiating and shaping temporal norms. Examples of time work and temporal agency could be evident in couples who choose to marry after a few dates, or parents who modify their paid and domestic work arrangements to create more family time. Considering the possibilities that exist for temporal agency, scholarship often examines the ways in which people manoeuvre and negotiate the tensions between what they experience as the objective passing of time, the social conventions that require them to spend it wisely and desires that might not always conform to social norms and expectations. This tension is apparent in the challenges introduced by digital media, which offer the promise of becoming more time efficient, but can also make people feel that they are wasting time.

As noted, research like Zerubavel’s (1981) study illustrates how romantic relationships exemplify their arguments on time and rhythms. Flaherty (2011) also referenced couples as an illustration of how the investment of time, both in quantity and duration, can signify dedication to the relationship. Yet, despite the notable scholarship on time and family/household practices, the sociological scholarship on time is only rarely brought into dialogue with that on other aspects of intimate relationships (Lahad, 2012). Hence, in this article we analyse qualitative interview data from a study of dating app use in the UK to explore the temporal normativities underpinning contemporary dating. We focus on the rhythms of dating via dating apps, which, as will be demonstrated, are often perceived to expedite the dating process. Prior to a discussion of the methods deployed in our study, we first discuss some of the relevant literature on dating apps, and the methodology we adopted in our study.

Dating Apps

Dating apps are the current incarnation of what is generally termed ‘online dating’. Since the internet has become widespread in households across the world from the early 1990s, it has been used, among other things, to find romance, friendships and sex. Starting with forums, message boards and chat rooms, online dating was followed up by designated websites such as Match.com, Kiss.com and Gaydar. With the advent of smartphones, dating platforms evolved into apps such as Tinder, Grindr, Hinge and Bumble, alongside mobile versions of traditional dating websites. While conventionally aimed at facilitating romantic or sexual connections, these apps serve various purposes beyond dating and hooking up, including forming friendships, killing time, exploring identity, overcoming shyness, networking and orienting in a new city (Ahlm, 2017; Duguay, 2020). In this manner, these apps have reshaped dating practices and fostered new forms of intimacy and connection (Gibson, 2021).

Via the affordances of smartphones such as GPS, accessibility and portability, dating apps are often said to offer a ‘time-efficient’ courtship experience (Chan, 2017; Hobbs et al., 2017). While dating websites necessitate the use of a computer (which is often located at one’s home or office), dating apps are downloaded on smartphones and could be used anywhere, at any time. The ease with which one can use the apps appears to streamline the dating process by allowing users to evaluate potential matches from the comfort of their own homes, or while being on the go, thus saving time and effort. Moreover, many dating apps utilise geolocation technology that shows users’ potential nearby matches. This way, strangers who are in each other’s vicinity and who may not have met otherwise, have a better chance of interacting with each other and meeting promptly if the conversation goes well (Gibson, 2021; Koch and Miles, 2021).

The perceived immediacy that is facilitated by dating apps and their push notifications invites consideration of the ways in which the apps influence perceptions of time. Hassan (2007), for instance, argued that digital technology has brought about a new kind of temporality, a ‘network time’ that is accelerated and asynchronised. When using dating apps, for instance, individuals can be led by the belief that they could potentially secure a date with someone they have just met. Nevertheless, some conversations on the app do not occur in real time; instead, users often reach out or respond to others in ‘delay’. In this manner, according to Hassan (2007), time on dating apps is more fragmented and impersonal as interactions often occur in short bursts.

The perceived ease and speed with which dating app users connect have made these platforms symbols of modern dating culture, often seen as promoting rapid, short-lived connections (Hobbs et al., 2017; Sobieraj and Humphreys, 2021). Bauman’s (2013) concept of ‘liquid love’ describes the fleeting nature of contemporary romantic relationships, where intimacy is temporary and disposable. Although dating apps postdate Bauman’s work, he noted that computer-dating exemplifies this phenomenon. His concept has been widely applied to dating app studies (Chan, 2017; Hobbs et al., 2017; Liccoppe, 2020; Portolan and McAlister, 2022). For example, Yeo and Fung’s (2018) research on Grindr in Hong Kong found that frequent, immediate notifications and the physical proximity of users accelerated gay men’s hookup culture. Participants felt urgency to respond before the other user moved on. Thus, dating apps are both praised or derided for facilitating casual sex and short-term flings, with many sociologists arguing that they foster shallow, emotionally superficial relationships (Ahlm, 2017; Hobbs et al., 2017).

Here, we aim to examine our interviewees’ narratives of their previous and current use of dating app use to unpack the common perceptions that dating apps accelerate intimate relationships, but also how they resist and negotiate them. As discussed earlier, although time is often conceived as natural and beyond our control, it is also socially constructed and can be morphed and warped according to one’s agency. Therefore, in this article we reflect on the rhythms (i.e. the pacing and sequencing of events) and time (the quantifiable and segmental moments in one’s life) of dating by exploring the experiences of dating app users before, during and after the COVID-19 pandemic. As noted earlier, the pandemic was a pivotal period in current history where time was experienced as ‘standing still’ due to lockdown and restrictions. Such ‘frozen’ moments allowed many dating app users to engage with others in ways they had not done previously.

Method

The findings of this article derive from a broader ESRC-funded project (for full research protocol, see Garcia Iglesias et al., 2024). The discussion of the findings here is based on 53 semi-structured interviews, where we deployed similar prompts and questions across the interviews. Interviews covered topics such as dating app habits before, during and after the pandemic, motivations to use dating apps and more. Since the research focused on online practices (although interviewees also discussed in-person dates and relationships that originated in the apps), the present analysis and findings are limited to addressing face-to-face interactions that emerge from dating apps. These dynamics could be explored further in future research. The issue of time and dating rhythms was not explicitly asked in interviews, but consistently emerged, highlighting its importance for dating app users.

The interviews were conducted between May and November 2023 and included 22 women, 28 men (two of whom were trans), two non-binary and one trans person who did not disclose a gender. Twenty-four interviewees identified as heterosexual and 29 were lesbian, gay, bisexual and queer identified (LGBQ+). Most interviewees were white (43), and the remainer identified as Black, Asian or mixed. The average age of the participants was 40, with the youngest being aged 20 years and the oldest aged 74. Interviewees lived across the UK, including major cities, as well as semi-rural and rural areas. Most interviewees were recruited through a survey agency – after completing a survey they opted to participate in a follow-up interview (see protocol in Garcia Iglesias et al., 2024). Several interviewees were recruited later on through social media and relevant mailing lists (aimed at different LGBTQ+ groups) to diversify our pool in terms of ethnic and gender identities. The main criteria guiding recruitment for our study were: users of dating apps, residents of the UK and a relatively balanced number of heterosexual and LGB+ participants. Interviews lasted up to an hour (45 minutes on average), on Teams or Zoom, with cameras on or off, depending on the interviewee’s choosing.

The period in which we conducted our fieldwork needs to be considered, especially when examining time. When we interviewed our participants in mid-2023, the UK had gone back to ‘normal’, and for participants lockdown and restrictions were a memory. Thus, when asking individuals to reflect on their experiences using dating apps before and during the pandemic, we are aware that we were gathering retrospective data. Some studies about dating apps use and dating in general were conducted in ‘real time’ during the pandemic (Gibson, 2021; Mercer et al., 2022). This research examines users’ memories not just of their experiences before, during and immediately after the pandemic, but also their experiences, views and perceptions at the time of the interviews.

Although memories can be unreliable in ‘objective’ data, we believe they hold value. First, in our interviews, we focused less on undisputable ‘facts’ and more on how memories shaped personal narratives about the pros and cons of dating apps over time and how these patterns emerged across the data (Plummer, 1995). While examining perceptions of dating apps before and during COVID-19, we were particularly interested in how participants’ stories illuminated their overall and current experiences at the time of the interview. Second, the timing of the interviews allowed us to explore how participants viewed changes in their dating practices and preferences over time, rather than isolating practices during COVID-19. Third, studying memories alongside current practices was essential to understanding the personal, social and historical contexts shaping intimate relationships and the role of dating apps in these. We acknowledge that some participants may view past experiences nostalgically, romanticising periods like COVID-19 lockdowns while overlooking challenges. Nonetheless, most participants appeared to strive for accuracy, often evidenced by pauses and self-corrections in recalling their memories.

Interviews were fully transcribed and coded in NVivo (version 13), using more than 20 codes. We then implemented a thematic analysis method based on the codes. Since the questions were open-ended, thematic analysis was helpful in tracing the main themes that emerged from the responses. In interpreting the data, we deployed both inductive and deductive analysis to make sense of how people’s practices and desires are shaped by neoliberal temporalities. In doing so, we deployed inductive analysis to identify patterns and develop theory about temporal normativities, while at the same time deploying deductive analysis to establish the evidence for our argument about neoliberal temporal normativities. This enabled us to acknowledge the mutually constituting nature of both analytic approaches, recognising that the neoliberal frame was one of many possible frames. While a symbolic interactionist or reflexive modernisation frame, for example, could have been deployed, it seemed to us that the neoliberal frame was better placed to account for changing social norms, governance via their internalisation and agency via their navigation in the context late modern (or late capitalist) technological developments (Heaphy, 2007).

Findings

‘The Five-Minute Rule’: Dating Rhythms before COVID-19 Social Restrictions

COVID-19 social restrictions disrupted many people’s dating app practices. To understand their impact on the rhythms of dating app use we begin by exploring people’s experience before the pandemic. When asked about her communication style on dating apps, Kamala (heterosexual woman, 27) described herself as an ‘awful messenger’, explaining that:

I’m a person who would rather meet up than spending so much time messaging [. . .] If the conversation was going on for days and we weren’t getting anywhere, I would probably sort of stop replying at one point, thinking, you know, ‘is this going to carry on?’. So, I would prefer after a couple of days just sort of meeting up.

Kamala’s comment denotes that conversations on dating apps ought to ‘go somewhere’; that is, translate into in-person interactions that could lead to a relationship. Since time should not be wasted, not even in social interactions, Kamala becomes irritated by lingering conversations on the app. The lack of interest in ongoing, so-called ‘purposeless’ conversations was also articulated by Aaron (gay man, 28), who pointed out that:

You get messaged quite a lot on dating apps. It’s a lot of people who are like ‘I want now, now [. . .]’. This app is going off constantly, constantly [. . .] and the thing is, a lot of it was just conversations that didn’t really go anywhere.

According to Aaron, the urgency and immediacy of dating apps can be overwhelming and bothersome, since much like Kamala’s argument, ‘conversations don’t go anywhere’. According to these interviewees, if users engage with each other, they ought to derive value from the interaction rather than simply squander each other’s time.

These quotations echo Hassan’s (2007) claim about dating apps contributing to rapid and asynchronous social interactions. However, as expressed by Aaron, it appears that despite their asynchronous nature, our interviewees felt pressured to keep up with the messages on the apps. This sentiment was also articulated by Hannah (heterosexual woman, 40), who recounted: ‘Sometimes as well, I’m really guilty of reading a message, not being able to reply right away.’ Thus, when reflecting on the rhythm and pacing of their online interactions, interviewees shared a feeling of urgency and immediacy.

The pressure to message back or to meet as soon as possible with their dating app match has two possible explanations: fear of missing out on the ‘perfect’ or most suitable partner and the ‘love at first sight’ narrative. A recent article by Binder et al. (2024) addressed the fear of missing out on dating apps, which can lead users to compulsively jump from one interaction to another and endless swiping in search of an ideal match. As noted earlier, dating apps are perceived as ‘time-savers’ (Chan, 2017; Hobbs et al., 2017) since they offer a portable and easy-to-use platform to find matches based on similar interests and preferences. Indeed, Ron (heterosexual man, 61), who had a demanding job, found dating apps to be a ‘shortcut’ in finding love:

Using a dating app cuts out a long period of time to build up that relationship with that individual, that camaraderie, to then actually say, ‘would you like to come on a date?’ So, the dating app is, then, for me, fulfilling that build-up period where I can see a picture and I can read some stuff.

However, in contrast to the perception of dating apps as time-savers, interviewees also found them time-consuming and demanding, especially since most conversations were deemed futile:

You do spend a lot of time talking to people and not getting anywhere, wasting time, you know. You could have been messaging somebody all the time, for a week or two, and then they just ghost you. (Irene, heterosexual woman, 50)

I think you can waste your time a lot on apps. And people, you know, they can pussyfoot around each other a lot, can’t they. And when you’ve got that many people you’re presented with, I think it’s a bit more important to be direct and know really what you want and stand your ground. (Julia, bisexual woman, 40)

Once again, these examples articulate users’ concern with wasting time while looking for a relationship on dating apps. As Julia describes, dating apps are populated by a variety of people; many of whom are not serious about finding love and might disappear without a warning (also known as ‘ghosting’). The large pool of users, therefore, leaves individuals with a fear of missing out. Given this, users feel like they must manage their time properly to avoid investing in the wrong connections so they would not miss potentially better matches. In this manner, dating app users took part in what Southerton (2020) referred to as a ‘time squeeze’: trying to make the most of dating apps while investing as little time as possible in them. Interviewees’ emphasis on time management and the importance of time demonstrates how time becomes an invaluable resource on dating apps. From a neoliberal perspective, time is a currency that is not only exchangeable for money (Nowotny, 1994; West-Pavlov, 2012; Zerubavel, 1981), but also, we suggest, for emotional resources. When users hesitate to invest time in someone who might ghost them, it can reflect a reluctance to commit emotionally. This can be partly due to fears of rejection or hurt, and partly because of what we term neoliberal temporal norms, where the risks of wasting time are seen as greater than the potential rewards of intimacy.

Interviewees’ fear of missing out was often intertwined with a narrative that falling in love should be swift and effortless. Ellie (heterosexual woman, 43), for instance, had a strict policy of meeting up with a ‘match’ within two weeks because, ‘when you meet someone, within five minutes, you know if you like them or not’. According to Ellie, users should meet as soon as possible, ‘because when you meet them, if you don’t like them, you’ve wasted all this time’. With this dating scheme in mind, which included specific pacing and scheduling, Ellie was eager to save time and find love quickly. Her approach to dating was echoed by other interviewees, who discussed searching for an instant ‘spark’ or ‘click’:

I can tell quite early on if there’s a spark, and for me, I look for that [. . .] I will know straight away within, I think, in the first kind of 10, 15 minutes if there’s a spark there with someone. (Lily, heterosexual woman, 38)

I think whenever you meet up with a person you could know very quickly, I think within the first few minutes, maybe an hour if you have that connection. I think you’ll know within a few minutes. (Liam, heterosexual man, 37)

Hefner and Wilson (2013) note that people’s internalisation of the ‘love at first sight’ narrative is linked to its frequency as a trope in popular culture. This notion seemed so embedded in many dating app users’ intimate imaginaries and ideals that it shaped their dating tempo and time regime. The ways in which dating app users perceive time, rhythm and schedule seemed to be indicative of internalised socio-cultural scripts about how love should develop: easily and swiftly.

Nevertheless, there were interviewees, especially cis-heterosexual women, who rejected rapid-paced interactions, and strived for what we term ‘slow intimacy’. Based on interviewees’ accounts, we define slow intimacy as interactions aimed to establish a connection by prioritising in-depth and long trust-building interactions. These attitudes were expressed by Emma and Sharon:

I am one of these, probably annoying users for some, in that I like to chat for a fair bit of time before I’d be willing to meet someone, and I know that’s not for everyone. You get people on these apps that say, ‘I’m not here for a pen pal’, neither am I, but I do like to just, rather than waste someone’s time by physically going to meet them, the longer you speak and chat you can, I can usually either rule someone out or say, ‘yeah, I think I would like to meet you’. (Emma, heterosexual woman, 39)

I still need that time for me, and I know maybe that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. But that’s, for me, what I’d want. And then, they don’t want to wait around, or they think, you know, they get bored or whatever. And then, for me, that just proves that they’re clearly not the kind of person for me. If they haven’t, they can’t show me the respect of time, and you know, my own pace, then I kind of know they’re not going to be right for me to start off with. (Sharon, heterosexual woman, 52)

Both interviewees undertake ‘time work’ (Flaherty, 2011, 2012; Nielsen et al., 2021), by trying to resist time conventions on dating apps where most users seek rapid interactions. In his work on time and agency, Flaherty (2012: 251) argued that temporal norms require compliance, but ‘this motivated compliance, is, and must be, ongoingly realised through self-guided decisions and practices’. Thus, when dating app users try to keep up with the rapid exchange of messages and encounters on dating apps, they do so in a way that does not challenge what has been theorised as the neoliberal status quo. Interviewees such as Emma and Sharon, however, attempted to resist such rhythms by demanding deacceleration. They perceived the alignment of other users with their slower rhythm and pacing as signs of respect and patience, qualities they highly appreciated. Nevertheless, despite a desire for slow intimacy, dating app use could still reflect an ideology of efficiency, as seen in the quotation from Emma above, and arguably in her own practice, by meeting in person quickly after brief communication.

Although the desire for slow intimacy was more common among cis-het women, Alex (gay man, 52), also echoed a similar sentiment:

I like to speak to people, and by speak, I mean, I like to have a conversation over a period of time over the app, and then, if I’m happy, and then I will want to meet someone. And I think a lot of people aren’t like that, and a lot of people on the apps, if you want to speak for more than a day or 10 minutes, it tends to be instant on gay apps, that they want to meet kind of straight away. And if you want to have any form of conversation, that doesn’t really fit in.

In line with Zerubavel’s (1981) concept of breaching time conventions, the dating rhythms of individuals like Alex, Emma and Sharon were not always respected by other dating app users. Instead, they were sometimes met with mockery (‘I’m not looking for a pen pal’) or they felt like they did not ‘fit in’. Thus, we stress that temporal agency is not solely within the individual’s control. Dating, we argue, can be seen as a ‘choreography’ that requires time and rhythm synchronisation between both parties. Given the expectation of rapid and ‘productive’ engagement on dating apps, users who proceed at a slower pace could feel pressured to catch up to match the expectations of others, even if they resisted.

In summary, when narrating their dating rhythms before the pandemic, interviewees expressed feelings of urgency and immediacy that were in line with what we conceptualised as a neoliberal ethos. The desire to meet the ‘right’ person and to not miss opportunities and waste time led many to accelerate the courtship. Those who sought out slow intimacy and transgressed the temporal normativities of dating apps experienced difficulty in finding individuals who matched their pace and rhythm. However, during the pandemic, dating app rhythms changed due to social restrictions and lockdown, as is evident in the following section.

‘Slow Burn’: Cultivating Slow Intimacy during COVID-19 Social Restrictions

The COVID-19 pandemic stands out as one of the most significant global viral outbreaks in recent memory. The inability to engage in face-to-face interactions during lockdown and restrictions prompted individuals to adopt alternative communication and socialising practices, leading to a notable surge in dating app use. Tinder, for instance, reported a record-breaking 3 billion swipes worldwide on Sunday, 29 March 2020, marking the highest activity ever recorded on the platform within a single day. In the UK, there was a 12% increase in daily conversations on dating apps between mid-February and the end of March 2020 (Shaw, 2020). In their research on dating apps use during the pandemic, Portolan and McAlister (2022) explained that one of the reasons for the surge in downloads and swipes has to do with loneliness and fear of missing out. Single people, in particular, worried that the pandemic had left them isolated and turned to dating apps for comfort.

Among our interviewees, dating app use did increase during the pandemic. Roy (gay man, 44) believed that ‘app usage increased, because obviously, people are at home doing nothing, and were bored, and so they have spent a lot of time on them’. Thus, the increase in dating apps use was not solely driven by feelings of loneliness or the desire for companionship, as suggested by Portolan and McAlister (2022). It was also attributed to the surplus of available time:

I did notice there were more people messaging me [. . .] because everyone has the time. (Clara, heterosexual woman, 47)

I definitely went online more to talk to people, but not necessarily because I felt lonely, just because I guess I had the time. (Hannah, heterosexual woman, 40)

In her work, Adam (1990) described time as an ‘invisible other’, a force that is beyond our senses and reach; one that is always at play in our social existence. Our research highlighted the part that time plays in the choreography of dating rhythms when comparing interviewees’ experiences before and during COVID-19. Before the pandemic, dating apps were mostly considered a shortcut and a time saver in finding love or hookups, but during lockdown and social distancing they were often used as a way to pass the time. In this respect the social and economic impact of COVID-19 appeared to offer the opportunity for new futures, including post-neoliberal ones.

According to interviewees, the pandemic was not just defined by increased messaging on the apps but also more in-depth conversations. Before the pandemic, interviewees could feel the pressure of acceleration and urgency, swiftly hopping from one conversation to another, one person to another. During the pandemic, because people had more time on their hands, interviewees recounted engaging in more meaningful conversations. Lily (heterosexual woman, 38) recounted:

We were talking and getting past like, stage one of just the basic ‘How are you, what do you like, where you from?’, you know. Getting to the point of ‘How is your day? What you’ve been up to?’ kind of building on what I would say, you know, closer to a friendship.

The conversations Lily engaged in on dating apps during COVID-19 enabled the formation of slow intimacy. As Lily’s quotation indicates, she and other users shared insights into each other’s daily lives, beyond merely gathering personal information to evaluate their compatibility. The experiences of cultivating slow intimacy were not only described by women, but also by men, such as Yadid (heterosexual man, 39), who detailed:

The conversations were never ‘cv’, we didn’t talk about how you look like. It was like, ‘how are you getting on? Are you working? Do you have to queue as well?’ Talking about social distancing, government rules. And it was, I’m just talking one person, another person and it was, it started to become, everyday start messaging ‘how you getting on today? How you doing?’

Yadid recounted that the conversations that he engaged in during COVID-19 restrictions no longer focused on obtaining descriptive information on one another, but on supporting each other: interactions ceased to serve as a means to an end in the form of romantic, casual or sexual encounters.

Slow intimacy could give way to friendships and community building, but also to long-term romantic relationships. Yelena (heterosexual woman, 36), for instance, met her long-term partner during the pandemic. She recounted that recently, her boyfriend acknowledged that it was the pandemic that brought them together, and quoted him saying: ‘Because I didn’t have any distractions, I could actually stop and really invest in this relationship more than what I previously did. Just because there’s always someone. There’s always something better next door.’ Yelena believed that the pandemic allowed her partner to ‘stop and actually, maybe work on quality, for lack of a better phrase’. The focus on quality over quantity echoes the ‘Slow Living Movement’ as described by Southerton (2020). In general, the movement strives to counter the overwhelming pace of modern life, by intentionally embracing leisurely pursuits in the belief that the outcomes of ‘slow’ activities are of better quality than hurried ones. According to Yelena, the budding romance with her partner was made possible by the ‘extra’ time he had, ultimately leading to a lasting relationship that, it is implied, would not have developed under normal circumstances

Care needs to be taken not to romanticise the social connectedness that people recall during crises, but the frequent mentions of changed dating app practices during COVID-19 lockdowns attest to the widespread sense that these indeed occurred. The pandemic disrupted common perceptions of time. While scholars often view such disruption as confusing (Nielsen et al., 2021; Zerubavel, 1981), we argue it could also create new opportunities. Our findings show that with time seemingly slowing down or standing still, many users appeared to be less influenced by what we view as neoliberal normative temporal conventions, allowing conversations to flow without setting a timer on them, and fostering slow intimacy. Despite this, our participants’ narratives suggest that this free-form of engagement generally did not continue after lockdowns and restrictions were lifted as is evident in the next section.

‘Okay, Thanks, Bye’: The Return to Rapid Dating after COVID-19 Social Restrictions

Despite the promise of new futures that COVID-19 appeared to offer in an array of life sectors, Briggs et al. (2020) found their survey participants were highly attached to the ‘old normal’. While Briggs et al., like most other social scientists who have studied COVID-19 and neoliberalism, focus their analyses on economic neoliberalism, the findings of our own study echo their findings in terms of the attachment to the ‘old normal’ of dating app use, where participants reported a quick return to the kind of high-speed and outcome-orientated dating associated with pre-COVID neoliberal dating app use.

When asked about the atmosphere on dating apps after lockdown and restrictions were lifted, interviewees described the collective desire on the part of others to return to a sense of ‘normalcy’, which was translated into a resumption of hurried tempo. According to Hassard (1990: 14), ‘we learn that our attitudes to time are dynamic, and that specific moments of time come to acquire particular meanings’. Indeed, it appeared to many participants that the modifications dating app users adapted towards slower dating and interaction during COVID-19 restrictions were short-lived. Users appeared to return to their pre-pandemic dating patterns, as commented on by Nick (gay man, 23): ‘Everyone’s back to like, their own lives and stuff now and it’s, you don’t have all this free time to chat [. . .] it’s back to what it was like, pre-2019-ish.’

Some interviewees, who enjoyed sharing slow intimacy with fellow users during the pandemic, lamented its transience post-pandemic:

At the moment, you know, it just literally feels like, it’s just a hookup culture: ‘Who are you? I am just looking for this. Okay, thanks, bye.’ And it’s over within seconds [. . .] I think time has changed. Everyone’s in a hurry [. . .] Everyone’s in such a rush to get something or get somewhere. (Lily, heterosexual woman, 38)

It became really hard for some people to respond. Some people that we had a good conversation [. . .] we talked for a while, and they became less communicative. (Simon, heterosexual man, 28)

Lily and Simon expressed a sense of loss of the bonds and connections they had made not too long ago. Their narratives suggested that the intimacy and rhythm of their relationships during the pandemic were traded for more conventional dating patterns that were commonplace before the pandemic. As Zerubavel (1981) explains, the strict scheduling and rhythms of our social lives offer protection against chaos and uncertainty. Thus, it could be argued that for subjective and social order, dating app users paid the price of letting go of the spontaneity and less goal-orientated tempos that many experienced during the pandemic.

Other interviewees were keen to partake in rapid dating again due to socially shaped motivations and constraints. For instance, Jake (gay man, 31) adhered to conventional speedy dating rhythms due to lack of time and money:

All of us are living in like, a very. . . time-poor. . . We’re all trying to find ways to do things more efficiently and I think the app is trying to keep up with that. But it doesn’t allow for, like, nuance.

Despite believing that rapid intimacy on the apps does not offer place for nuance and depth, Jake found it more suitable for his current lifestyle. He continued to discuss the current cost-of-living crisis and the ways in which apps allow users to not only overcome time constraints, but also monetary ones:

Especially in the cost-of-living crisis like, if I were dating like my friends were dating when we were living in London, and they were straight, and they were going on like, dates with like, a guy a week, like, it would cost a fortune, right? But you can, you can, like, filter people out on a dating app in quite an easy way, right?

Thus, from Jake’s point of view, in the post-pandemic United Kingdom, which was also one of financial constraint, dating app users could move quickly from one conversation to the next to maximise their time and ensure that when they eventually go on a date and spend money, it is with someone they deem ‘worth’ the emotional and financial investment. This approach, Jake felt, was preferable to investing significant time in one person only to later discover, after meeting and spending money, that they were not a good match. According to Jake, fast interactions are more efficient in saving both time and money compared with slower, more intimate connections, thus demonstrating the connection between time and money in late capitalist contexts.

Regardless of their motivations, many interviewees’ experience of the return to rapid dating was narrated as ‘natural’ and was rarely presented as the subject of reflexive decision making. As scholars of time argued before, time conventions are powerful, internalised mechanisms. Dating app users often returned to the speeded-up dating patterns that were promoted by what can be viewed as neoliberal conditions, rather than self-created rhythms. Many of our participants had let go of the slow intimacy they had cultivated in dating apps during the pandemic, despite recounting the pleasures of the experience, and returned to patterns of dating that they had elsewhere explicitly depicted as lacking depth and fulfilment.

Conclusion

In this article we examined how moments of crisis and change bring temporal rhythms to the fore in the context of dating apps and offer alternative ways of relating. Our research illuminated how before the pandemic, there was a sense of urgency and immediacy in dating app interactions, driven by people’s socially shaped desire to find the right match quickly and efficiently. During the pandemic, the pace of online dating slowed down, with users retrospectively extolling the virtues of slow intimacy. This shift was facilitated by the inability to meet in person, the surplus of available time and a desire for sense of connection to others amid lockdown restrictions. The pandemic provided an opportunity for users to experience alternative dating patterns and rhythms, with many interviewees recounting a preference for slow intimacy instead of the rapid dating practices they had previously associated with dating apps. However, as restrictions eased and life returned to a semblance of ‘normalcy’, many interviewees believed there was a return to rapid dating patterns characterised by haste and more ‘superficial’ interactions. Despite many of the interviewees’ enjoyment of slow intimacy during the pandemic, the social privileging of efficiency promoted a reversion to conventional dating practices.

This article illuminates the interplay between internalisation of social norms, external constraints and individual agency in shaping online dating rhythms. It demonstrates how alternative ways of living (such as those necessitated during COVID-19), connecting with others and evaluating time can occur during a time of radial social disruption or change. The various contexts that give rise to alternative intimate temporalities have yet to be fully examined in the sociology of personal life as well as the sociology of time. In addition to the idea of neoliberal temporal normativities, this article has brought to the fore the concept of slow intimacy, which, together with the notion of rapid dating, can be used as analytical tools to analyse intimate and relational practices. Without supporting a particular kind of intimacy, our analysis has shown that agency with respect to dating rhythms on dating apps is a question of negotiating and living with such tensions, and of acknowledging the complex choreography between users, dating app cultures and neoliberal social norms. In this sense, dating app users do not simply dictate their own rhythms: they need to be in-sync with other users as well as the culture of the app, and this can lead to following the dominant social conventions of a given moment. Nevertheless, we have seen some of our participants resisting conventions by pursuing slow intimacy within a culture of rapid intimacy.

Overall, this article argues that in contrast to academic and common perceptions that digital technological developments like dating apps have revolutionised intimacy, apps are a third actor that can encapsulate and perpetuate ingrained social norms about time and rhythm. The analysis we have provided has emphasised how neoliberal norms that have developed under late capitalism permeate not only dating app relational cultures, but also ‘personal life’ more generally. Despite the transformative potential often attributed to them, dating apps, along with the pandemic, did fundamentally alter the deeply embedded tendencies to seek love, sex and intimate connection rapidly, often driven by the ideal of love, compatibility and connection ‘at first sight’. The task for sociology, we argue, is to bring together the sociologies of time and intimacy to examine the limits and possibilities of intimate transformation in the digital era. In doing so, we can explore and better understand how digital media neither enables people’s unfettered agency nor makes them victims of structures in the field of intimacy. Rather, people must negotiate the tensions between the promise of what can be viewed as new (digital) intimate freedoms, and what we suggest is the internalisation of neoliberal (temporal) constraints.