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A fair princess atop a high tower guarded by a dragon, our hero — a knight driven by eternal love — must overcome
perilous obstacles in order to save her. Traditional conversations about love tend to focus on courtly love, chivalry,
or philosophical terms like agape, eros, or philia. But, in the world of online dating apps like Tinder, Hinge, and Happn,
are these visions of love even possible? With one billion swipes a day and over twelve billion matches in the Tinder-verse,
you'd think people wouldn't still be asking the question — where's the love? According to Philosophy Professor Richard Kearney,
we may be living in “an age of excarnation” — where digital media creates an atmosphere where we
“obsess about the body in increasingly disembodied ways." Essentially, the problem with dating sites like
Match.com and eharmony is that they are centered on digital avatars — representations of reality that are removed
from the actual corporal body. Gone are the awkward interactions like pick-up lines, catcalls, and terrible mini golf dates.
Instead, dates are pre-arranged, based on an algorithm. Kearney argues that in the extreme, what we have is
a love absent an actual person — where we become attracted to the simulation of a person, kind of like the movie "Her."
"You're dating your computer?"
The idea behind apps like Tinder aren’t radically new — they don’t differ that much from a letter passed around in grade school.
The difference is that instead of sending out one note on dating sites, people send out thousands of them, and on Tinder,
you can't see them scoff and then crumple up said note. Instead, people swipe and wait for a match.
There is no need to be physically present for rejection. It's zero-risk matchmaking. Not having to wait for a person
to call you back isn't just a convenience — it also removes the element of vulnerability from the dating equation.
In his book, "In Praise of Love," French theorist Alain Badiou argues that the problem with online dating apps
is that they represent a risk-free love — a love that is removed from any possible rejection. Not only are people extracted
from the physical presence of rejection, but there's also the belief that people can precondition love. One can
filter out any unwanted traits. People are free, in advance, to only interact with people of a certain age,
political affiliation, that have a certain food preference, hair color, prefer a particular video game console,
or have the correct favorite television show.
It’s sort of the weird science approach to love, where you construct your ideal mate before you ever meet.
It screens out chance and randomness — there is no possibility of lovers who come from different worlds,
or people that work through their respective differences. In the Tinder-verse, John Hughes, Freddie Prince Junior,
or Patrick Dempsey movies don’t have a point of reference. There is no jock that falls in love with the
socially conscious art-school girl with hidden beauty. That all gets weeded out in advance.
"Is that good or bad?"
It means that people tend to interact narcissistically — they swipe based on their own preconceived idea about
which type of person they want to be with. Instead of being impacted by another person, narcissistic interactions
are more fixated on the love of the self — on finding yourself in the other. What is erased is difference. There isn't
an acceptance of the ways that people are different from you — there isn’t love between two — it is a love with the self and
a fictitiously-constructed other that erases any unwanted messiness or baggage. For Badiou, love is "like two musical
instruments that are completely different in tone and volume, but which mysteriously converge when unified
by a great musician in the same work.” Love isn't about being sure of what you want in another person — it's about
the radical possibility that you don’t know what you want — and being open to the possibility of being changed by
another person. But is that so bad? To be fair, the idea that everyone should be waiting for the Shakespearean
star-crossed lover out there is idealistic and romantic at best. As with any technology, dating apps are as good as
the people that use them. They are only obstacles to love if people treat them like tools to exclude anything that challenges
their notion of self. And, it would be unwise to reduce love to the way you meet a person. Love is curated, percolated,
and it persists in moments of contradiction, hardship, and torment. It is arduous work that endures regardless
of differences and ever-present obstacles. So, dear viewer, what do you think? Have you been looking for love
in all the wrong places? Or are you one perfectly-angled selfie away from finding your one, true sweetheart?