This February The Huffington Post UK is running Making Modern Love, a fortnight-long focus on what love means to Britons in the 21st Century. Built on the three themes of finding love, building love and losing love, HuffPost will feature human stories that explore exactly what it is to be in love in modern times
Dating can be draining, and in an age where so much of it starts with a swipe, the intrigue and intensity of lust-at-first-sight and courting often end up dead in the water.
For many lesbian, gay, bi and trans people, the introduction of these apps has been literally life-saving. Or at least perhaps love-life-saving.
Whether you've moved somewhere new, aren't out to friends, families and colleagues or simply can't find other LGBT people in your area, apps can lend a hand to finding your Mr. Right.
Or even your Mr. Right Now - if that's what you're looking for.
But what's worrying is the way that the likes of Tinder and Happn have drained the depth out of the art of conversation. Creating a trivialised space where we can play 'shop', but with actual people. I still find it odd that Tinder tells me to 'keep playing', as though my love life is some sort of gay Temple Run.
I don't think my mind, nor my thumbs, can take much more of it.
Reading things like 'masculine only', 'no browns' or 'swipe left if you're not in shape' don't do much to reinstall my faith in young gay men of today. We're an oppressed, minority community - and so I can't fathom how some of us continue to bleat such bigotry.
Am I right?
For those reasons, I've decided that digital age dating isn't for me.
When I first came out, I hoped fora bit of a Prince Charming. Who would look, act, and treat me the part and, if possible, look a little bit like James Dean or Sean Patrick Thomas. Or Aladdin.
Later on, I realised that in actual fact all I really wanted was kindness, confidence and a decent sense of humour. And someone who can deal with my Peter Pan mentality.
Judging by the last few months' performance, I don't know if I can find that via an iPhone. And, for now, I don't think I want to.
In fact, I'm not sure I want to find it at all.
Despite so many of my friends starting to settle, make engagement plans and think about the future, I haven't got the foggiest idea of what I'm looking for.
While some of them spend their Saturday morning designing wedding invites, I'll be on the other side of London falling through my front door clutching a bag of McDonalds.
And as others enjoy a swanky Shoreditch Valentine's Day dinner, I'll be on the couch with my housemates fighting over the last slice of pizza. Which is the only Mighty Meaty I'll be getting a week on Sunday. And the only kind I want.
Love is fabulous - and I couldn't be happier for my friends and family that have found it.
But can't we also use 14 February to celebrate single life and what it stands for?
Being able to wear that horrible shirt your ex was never a fan of, kissing someone in a club whose name you'll never learn, having a meal-for-two (for one) and being able to choose what to watch on Netflix.
I think we should. And until someone tells me otherwise, I'll continue being that twenty seven year old singleton that falls asleep on the night bus and never manages to finish his Chicken Selects.
And I'll have absolutely no regrets.
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