We are in the middle, so we're told, of "Tinder and the dawn of the dating apocalypse!" We don't date anymore, we app. From a standing start, the Tinder app has now been downloaded over 100 million times, and there are, at any one time, over ten million people swiping with horny thumbs. And it's not even the most popular app anymore. A host of slightly tweaked others have joined it, all helping you, the sexless singleton, have sex.
Don't worry - GQ isn't about to bemoan this. We couldn't be more for it. Your humble GQ correspondent, for instance, has been awed by the wonder of hook-up technology ever since we heard the story of a former colleague's flatmate. Said individual was an avid watcher of two long-running dramas which aired on a Monday, but lamented the hour gap between them. And so, he would regularly plug the gap, so to speak, with sex, via the gay hook-up app Grindr. One hour, in-out (again, apologies), and back in time for the second show. Yes, it's fair to say, that was when we really realised what a wonder technology could be.
Add in Uber's rise to Tinder's popularity, and we now have the perfect storm. Never mind not having to leave the house for a sexual partner, we don't even have to leave our iPhone home screen.
GQ even has its very own Tinder baby. A colleague, who shall remain nameless, had a tried and tested method of asking every girl he matched with if they wanted to know a fun fact, said fact revolving around a titan of industry, wealth investment and a well-known art gallery, and apparently guaranteed an encounter every single time. "And that's how I met my wife! Along with many other less eligible women..." What a world we live in.
And yet. There are still problems that GQ would like to solve. And the biggest is that they try to be for everyone. This has led, for instance, to those individuals who get "Tinder thumb", acting like dating trawler fishermen by swiping right on everyone, nearly wearing a groove into the glass as they do so, and aren't at all bothered if they catch a few dolphins in the nets while they're at it ("Wey-hey! Any shoal's a goal!").
Read more: People pay me to write their Tinder profiles
Put another way: Tinder started out as a cool club. Now it's that euro trash club in Leicester Square where nerdy guys practice their negging pick-up artist lines with factory-line efficiency on unsuspecting Latvian exchange students.
Which is why apps have started getting specific and catering for different tastes.
Bored of Tinder? Try Hinge, which will only connect you with people with whom you already have friends in common. (In reality, this quickly reduces London to that awkward wedding where three of your exes have turned up). Or Happn, which matches you based on who you cross paths with (much loved by two opposing types of people - those who believe in rom-coms, destiny, fate, and true love; and those who are stalkers, who possibly also believe in all those things, but are distinctly more proactive about it).
The most popular app at the moment - at least anecdotally from GQ's straw-poll - is Bumble, which admits the key problem with most dating apps is us men. And so, on Bumble, only the women can contact you after you match: trawler fishermen not welcome.
Yet we can't help feel as though they are all the same app. They even all sound alike. Say them in a row, and it's like listening to a mechanic informing you of the work you need done on your car ("Your Tinder's gone mate, the Hinge too; I need to get a Grindr in there. It'll cost a Bumble at least..."). They all cater to everyone, and therefore to no one.
Take a look at "traditional" forms of internet dating. Granted, signing up to the likes of match.com is now so perversely laborious and uncool it's probably on the verge of getting hip again: like making your own artisanal cheese or brewing your own fruit wine.
But they thrived by specialising. It's long tail economics, essentially, only with way more sex.
These range from the predictable (elitesingles.co.uk) to the frankly disturbing. There's dead-meet.com for people who work in the funeral trade; clownpassions.com, for people really into clowns; and glutenfreesingles.com, for assholes.
Read more: 'Elite dating' is a bit daggy
You can tell there's a need, because we're even now using non-hook-up apps for hook-ups. How sex-360 of us! Ever since Uber added their UberPool option - allowing you to share your journey with others along the way for a greatly reduced cost - the Uber backseat has suddenly become a hook-up hotspot. GQ has a friend (yes, really) who once met a girl in the back of an LA car, and got her number in a cab ride that barely lasted 10 minutes. Efficient. As our US cousins recently put it on their website: "People are using Lyft to get laid now!" Yes, yes they are.
Dating apps, clearly, need to catch up. They need to go niche. They need to cater for the dating world we live in. They need to go long tail. Here, then, GQ humbly suggests the dating apps that don't currently exist, but should do. You're welcome, universe.
Would like to meet: dating apps that really work
Six dream downloads that (if they actually existed) would seriously enhance your love life...
Pre-Googld
We all do it - some light Google stalking before every date. Nothing weird, just an interested 15 minutes or so checking out any particular burly ex-boyfriends on Instagram, or all-caps comments about Taylor Swift (either pro or anti is a worry). So let Pre-Googld do that legwork for you: everyone on Pre-Googld comes with a fact-sheet compiled by Pre-Googld's staff with the highlights.
Go Emoji!
Because there is nothing more annoying than going on the perfect first date, exchanging phone numbers and dreaming of a future together, only then to find she sends texts like a Japanese schoolgirl. People who like this sort of thing should stick to their own, and will therefore use Go Emoji! - the first dating app where people can only communicate via pileated ideograms.
Picchkha!
An app specifically for people who have had professional photography with photoshopping done for their profile picture. By rounding all these people up into one app, it will mean the particular brand of disappointment you feel on meeting these people in the flesh - which is basically fraud - will at least be felt by both parties at the same time. This way, neither will feel hard done by.
Settl
Only available to men and women aged 35 and over. To register for Settl you must first tick a box that states, "I have given up on love - which is fine - I just don't want to die alone surrounded by ready-meals and sadness." The icon on your phone screen is a live counter of days left until you're 40. For motivation.
AllAbroad
What we really mean by, "If it's not the same time zone, it's not cheating" is: "There's much less chance of getting caught." Apps have made this easier, but also increased the chance of popping up on your other half's friend's dating app ("Isn't that..?"). The solution? AllAbroad, the dating app that will only work outside your home timezone. Tagline: "Delete this app on the return flight, you dolt".
Spotify And Chill
Why just rely on the solitary “anthem” of the Tinder-Spotify hook-up? Even someone whose entire Spotify history consists of nothing but Mumford & Sons, Coldplay, and the best of Sting can pick one Kanye track for cool camouflage. No, far better to have an app that looks at the last 20 songs played on Spotify and matches those with people of similar taste. It will also automatically contact the authorities if it includes any Manic Street Preachers.
