\n<\/p>\n
I am, admittedly,<\/span> a big flirt. I love everything about the exchange of getting to know another person. The playful banter. The rush of dopamine. The sexual subtlety and subtext of everything not said. Flirting, to me, remains one of the last human endeavors where people are intentionally trying to find common ground. It\u2019s pure possibility, absolute magnetism. It\u2019s also an art that can\u2019t be faked, or\u2014despite Silicon Valley\u2019s best attempts\u2014perfected by AI<\/a>.<\/p>\n That, of course, didn\u2019t stop Big Dating from going all in on virtual intimacy<\/a> this year, during which the focus shifted from endless swipes to AI-powered matchmaking. As the narrative around dating fatigue reached new heights, the trend toward sincere connection was an overdue correction by an industry that, across the last decade, built itself on ruthless scale, maniacal ambition, and profit incentives<\/a>, only to realize that the answer was right in front of them all along: You win by investing in people.<\/p>\n The integration of AI tools wasn\u2019t simply about keeping up with the Joneses or leaning into new innovations (though it was<\/em> some of that). For once it was more than just talk: Big Dating was seeking absolution for its sins.<\/p>\n Where dating apps once conspired to retain users by any means, AI presented an opportunity to connect people faster and, perhaps, forever. It led many companies to reconsider their user experience. According to a Pew Research Center study<\/a> a few years ago, in the US, almost 60 percent of single adults<\/a> said they were not currently looking for a relationship or casual dates. And while we aren\u2019t exactly in a romantic recession\u2014active users remain high; not to mention that Facebook Dating<\/a> is a secret hit among Gen Z\u2014overall user engagement among several apps, according to analytics firm Apptopia, has decreased by 7 percent<\/a> year-over-year. (Yes, even in spite of one Belgian artist\u2019s bizarre attempt to match people based on their browser history<\/a>.)<\/p>\n It\u2019s not a crisis or anything of the sort\u2014hundreds of millions of people still swipe, scroll, and like on a daily basis\u2014Big Dating just desperately needed to repair its reputation. AI looked like an answer.<\/p>\n In October, Three Day Rule<\/a>, the veteran matchmaking service, launched a matchmaker-trained AI app called Tai that offers real-time coaching. Grindr, which is on a quest to become the ultimate global gayborhood by going \u201cAI native,\u201d is using tools from Anthropic and Amazon<\/a> on its wingman feature<\/a> and chat summaries (though some users weren\u2019t happy<\/a> about the app\u2019s broad embrace of machine tech). Iris<\/a>, Rizz<\/a>, and Elate<\/a> also rolled out AI features to help users navigate the early talking stages.<\/p>\n In a year where everyone had Love Island USA<\/em><\/a> on the brain, yearners<\/a> made a comeback, right-wing influencers campaigned for a larger stake in the dating zeitgeist<\/a>, and virtual relationships saw record growth\u2014as anecdotally did divorces caused by AI affairs<\/a>. (According to a report by TechCrunch<\/a>, the AI companion market has grown more than 96 percent since 2024.) Tinder, meanwhile, underwent a brand refresh<\/a> and tried to attract more Gen Z users. \u201cThe biggest issue that we\u2019re concerned with \u2026 is the bulk creation of new accounts,\u201d Yoel Roth, head of trust and safety for Match Group, told WIRED<\/a> in October following the launch of Tinder\u2019s mandatory face verification update.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n