I tried speed dating to cure my Hinge fatigue
image via @crushclub.co/instagram
words by holly villagra
“I thought I might feel cringe, but there’s a strange self-love in backing yourself and taking a chance.”
It’s hardly groundbreaking to say the state of online dating is in the toilet. In hindsight, swiping ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with the flick of a finger was never going to create an all-encompassing romance. But a few years ago, there was at least a twinkle of optimism.
Every now and then, you’d hear the occasional unicorn story of a chance encounter, or meet a sweet couple at a party and ask how they met, only to be told, “surprisingly, Hinge.”
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Now it feels different. More often than not, the stories are: I never even made it to a date. I got ghosted. They forgot to mention they were in an open relationship. Or, in my case, I did make it to the date, only to spend five uninterrupted hours being told how a four-day, coke-fuelled bender in Ibiza can reveal that everyone’s true purpose in life is music and dance.
After a run of truly terrible first dates, capped off by a hope-crushing midweek exchange, I found myself questioning the whole enterprise. It was a Wednesday night and a Hinge match had been messaging me for all of fifteen minutes when he decided to throw respect out the window and ask, point blank, “Should we send some cheeky nudes to each other tonight?”
No preamble, no curiosity, no attempt at charm. Just a speed run to the worst possible version of modern courtship. By that point, I’d already grown tired of the cycle: download, match, lukewarm small talk, bad date, delete, swear off it entirely, then inevitably download it again.
Each round seems to shave a little more off your belief in romance, or at the very least, in the possibility of a semi-decent evening with someone who can hold a conversation without suggesting a digital strip-show before you’ve exchanged surnames.
I’d more or less shelved the idea of dating for the foreseeable future until a friend said something that cut through the noise. She had just fallen in love after a long run of failed situationships and catastrophic first dates, and she swore it had nothing to do with the usual platitudes handed to single people like consolation prizes. It wasn’t a cosmic realignment. It wasn’t manifestation. It wasn’t that old chestnut of ‘when you stop looking, it will find you.’
“It was just luck,” she said. “That’s all.”
There was something oddly liberating about that. Luck is neutral. Luck doesn’t blame you for wanting too much or not wanting enough. It doesn’t suggest that you’re energetically misaligned or spiritually impatient. It simply exists. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised my luck was unlikely to be hiding somewhere between a curated six-photo grid and a prompt about pineapple on pizza.
Staying on the apps in the hope of connection really began to feel like throwing a deck chair off the already sinking Titanic. So I deleted the app and promised myself I’d find other ways to date, ultimately realising I couldn’t let it steal my time and, more importantly, my hope, any longer.
The circuit breaker came almost immediately. An email landed in my inbox from Izzy Burns, the founder of Crush Club, inviting me to try one of her speed dating events in Melbourne.
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At first, I wasn’t sure. In my mind, speed dating involved sitting in some sterile community hall under fluorescent lights, opposite a finance bro rattling on about his latest half marathon. But when I scrolled through Crush Club’s Instagram, my curiosity piqued.
“One of the biggest misconceptions about speed dating is that it’s inherently uncool,” Izzy told me. “The people who come to our events aren’t desperate, they’re open-minded, confident, genuine, and fun, looking to change things up and try a new experience. Nothing hotter than that!”
I decided (both for the plot and to celebrate my recent farewell to the apps), to give it a go. After all, what better way to boost my luck than by speaking to twelve different men in a single night?
It goes without saying that even if you’re a confident, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of girl, events like this can still be nerve-wracking. I opted to bring a friend, which made the experience feel far less daunting. But even if that’s not an option, once you’re there, you quickly realise everyone’s in the same boat.
As Izzy says, “It’s no more daunting than a first Hinge date. If anything, it’s lower stakes… The whole thing is planned and structured, so from the moment you arrive you’re told where to sit and when to move.”
Arriving at the venue, you’re greeted by a host who provides your match card and name tag. You then have the option to grab a drink from the bar before settling into your seat. Over the course of the night, you’ll chat with each person for seven minutes. There are even conversation prompts on the tables to help you get chatting. At the hetero speed-dating events, the men rotate between seats, which I was grateful for.
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You’re given a card where you can write down each person’s name and, after your seven-minute conversation, indicate a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. The cards are collected by Crush Club, who confirm matches and send the details to you via email a few days later.
One thing to prepare yourself for is the speed. You have to be ready to switch between topics quickly and ride the wave of each chat. There’s almost a ‘yes and’ improv vibe to it, thanks to the heightened energy and excitement in the room.
With the different men I spoke to, I found myself ping-ponging between a bunch of topics throughout the night. As someone who’s naturally more extroverted, I thrive in this style of conversation and love the funny moments that happen when people blurt things out with zero inhibition.
That in itself gave me a boost of confidence. Knowing and practising the skill of meeting new people who exist outside your usual social orbit is inherently exciting. There’s nothing more thrilling than newness, especially after post-dating-app fatigue, when everything feels bland and soul-destroying.
It was refreshing to meet people I’d otherwise never likely encounter. I spoke to school teachers, IT professionals, and one of those people in courtrooms who says, “Now rise”. I discovered more about my ‘type’ in one night than I had in months of being on the apps.
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In speed dating, you also have to realise that, ultimately, it’s out of your control. I went from meeting one guy who quite literally said, “I don’t think Egypt is real”, to another who felt so magnetic, we found ourselves leaning in close during our seven minutes, leaving me wishing for more time with him. You’re not guaranteed anything and there’s a freedom in that. No algorithm, no swipes, no pay-to-play, just pure luck.
In speaking to many of the guys, I did what any good writer would and asked them why they were here. The answers varied but the majority had a genuine desire to meet people in real life, and to move away from the contactless nature of online dating. It was interesting to hear that – I often felt like it was mostly women feeling the fatigue of dating apps. Another common reason was a recommendation from a female friend. So, a note to all of you with a nice single guy friend: consider it your civic duty to convince him to attend one of these events.
Going in, I worried I’d leave without a single connection. Interestingly, once I had a chance to mingle with the other woman after the event, I discovered several had tried speed dating before. They hadn’t found a match the first time but came back anyway, drawn by the sheer enjoyment of talking to new people. In that moment, it became clear that the magic isn’t in the matches, it’s the experience itself. After all, we’re not on Love Island, panicking about eliminations if we didn’t lock someone down immediately.
Halfway through the night, I felt a genuinely happy just for showing up, taking a leap into the unknown. The lighting was moody, the music was playing and everyone was letting go of formality in favour of fun. I thought I might feel cringe, but there’s a strange self-love in backing yourself and taking a chance.
“At every event, I’m reminded just how many beautiful, genuine humans are out there, both to date and befriend. It’s made me really believe that opportunities for connection are everywhere; we just have to put ourselves in spaces that are conducive to meeting people.” Izzy says.
As for the matches I made, only time will tell if anything develops beyond seven-minute chats. But even if nothing comes of it, the experience left me feeling hopeful and reminded me how satisfying it is to just say, ‘fuck it’, and lean into the unknown, one conversation at a time.
For more on speed dating, try this.
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