Any Hinge user can relate to that god-awful question family and friends — whose relationships began in the pre-digital dating era — love to ask: "Where did you meet them?"

I don't object to the question itself, but it feels a bit irrelevant now. The better question seems to be, "How did you meet them?" Because today, there are really only two answers: in person or online. And that's a much simpler and more honest reflection of modern dating.

So yes, I meet potential suitors on Hinge. I go on dates. Some are successful and turn into loving "situationships"; others are more of a one-and-done. None have turned into my prince charming yet, but statistically speaking, I'm probably more likely to meet him on Hinge than by chance in real life these days.

Of course, there's pushback from older generations (and even some old souls in my own) who argue that "kids" today don't know how to approach strangers anymore, or that working from home has eliminated a major breeding ground for relationships. But that feels like a negative way to frame progress.

It's similar to saying AI is making us dumber. Sure — if we let it. But we can also choose to take the best of what technology offers while being mindful of its downsides. Dating apps are no different. With enough self-awareness, discipline, and intention, they don't replace connection — they expand the ways we find it.

We can't deny the repercussions of letting the digital world participate in our real lives, especially in spaces meant to be intimate and authentic. One consequence is that the very privacy that once kept relationships sacred is now often broadcast for the world to see. Another is that we risk disconnecting from the actual process of getting to know someone for who they are inside.

Subconsciously, every potential suitor on Hinge is limited by how they present themselves externally. Our only reference points are curated photos, superficial characteristics, and prompts that people may or may not take seriously. But what about the way someone's presence can be disarming? Or how their not-so-serious way of seeing the world makes even dull moments feel intoxicating?

There's an art to getting to know someone. But that art can't be fully processed through a digital middleman. That's my one caveat in defending digital dating.

Hinge can give you access to the biggest museum you've ever had at your fingertips. But it can't make you see the art. You still have to step inside, walk around, and spend time with what's in front of you. Notice what lifts your spirit. What moves you.

And I think that kind of art is more important than ever. I think humanity is craving it— something manmade, imperfect, and real. Something you can only experience by being present. I feel that way about dating, learning, and consuming music or performances. With technology creeping into every corner of our lives, we're instinctively pulled back toward our own devices to balance it out. And that's how it should be.

Because two things can be true at the same time.

Hinge is doing us a service by giving us access to incredible pools of people we may never have crossed paths with otherwise. But it's also making us less discerning about what truly counts by subtly training us to focus on the least important aspects of connection — height, physique, hair color.

So is there a way to capture someone's energy through a screen?

While the only foolproof answer is meeting in person, here are a few clues I've picked up on over the years that tend to lead to better matches:

How do they message you? Do they reference your prompts and try to engage with you, or does it feel like a message that could've been sent to ten people at once, just waiting to see who replies?

Where do they want to take you on a first date? Is it flashy and performative, or somewhere convenient enough to squeeze in before the next obligation? Or better yet, do they care about what would make you feel comfortable?

What kinds of photos do they include? Gym pics. Pets. Friends. Or not a single candid in sight. These choices reveal what someone values and prioritizes. Don't ignore them.

And lastly — what are their prompts? You can sense a lot from how someone responds to them: how much effort they put in, whether they're sarcastic or sincere, cheesy and romantic or entitled and cocky. Do they write one-word liners or recite a whole poem? You can usually gauge compatibility by sticking with people whose prompts actually resonate with you, especially if it's something you could see your future partner writing.

These are just a few navigational tools I've accumulated over the past few years of being a Hinge user. Modern dating apps aren't going anywhere — they're only going to evolve and become ever more present in our lives. So let's be open to them, and open to the ways they can shape our lives for the better.

And if you want a hopeful story to end on: My best friend's dad and stepmom met on a dating app. They're in love and married now. Whenever people ask, "Where did you meet?" they say they met at the Muses parade during Mardi Gras, where her dad caught her a shoe from the float. It's technically not a lie. That was their first date— when they met in person.