Beyond the Swipe: Are We Engineering the Humanity Out of Human Connection?

The All-You-Can-Eat Buffet of Connection

There’s a strange paradox in our hyper-connected world. We hold in our hands a device with near-infinite access to other human beings. Friendships, business partnerships, casual dates, and lifelong partners are, theoretically, just a few taps and a swipe away. The logic is seductive, mirroring the efficiency we’ve come to expect from every other corner of our lives. We order a taxi, it arrives. We order a takeaway, it’s at our door. We order a person… and there they are, a curated profile waiting for our approval.

This is the swipe-left/right culture. A landscape architected by algorithms, where human connection is presented as a transactional process. We’ve been conditioned to summarise ourselves into a fixed character limit, to select our most flattering photos, and to present a polished, optimised version of our being. But as we get more efficient at sorting, filtering, and matching, a crucial question emerges: are we engineering the humanity out of human connection?

This isn’t a critique of technology, nor is it a romanticised look at how things used to be. It’s a philosophical exploration. A moment to hold a mirror up to our modern methods of seeking relationships and ask whether the logic we’ve installed has improved our emotional lives or inadvertently hindered them. It’s an invitation to look beyond the algorithm and rediscover the unquantifiable magic of a genuine connection.

Ordering a Partner Like a Pizza 🍕

The language we use reveals so much. “What’s your type?” we ask, as if we’re selecting from a predetermined list of features. “They’re great on paper,” we say, acknowledging a dissonance between the logical checklist and the emotional reality. Dating apps and professional networking sites have gamified this process. We build a profile, which is essentially a spec sheet: job title, education, hobbies, height. Then we apply our filters, narrowing the vast pool of humanity down to a manageable, curated list of candidates who meet our predefined criteria.

In a study by the Pew Research Center, three-in-ten U.S. adults say they have used a dating site or app, and for adults under 30, that number rises to about half. The platforms are undeniably effective at one thing: introductions. They have dissolved geographical barriers and created possibilities for connection that would have been unimaginable a few decades ago. That’s the exciting part. But it is this very efficiency—this focus on speed and volume—that introduces a subtle, yet profound, emotional cost.

The scary part, however, is the subtle conditioning that comes with it. When you treat the search for a partner like ordering your favourite food, you risk seeing people as products. If one doesn’t meet your expectations, you can simply send it back and order another. This fosters a culture of disposability. The "paradox of choice" suggests that when faced with too many options, we often become less satisfied with our final decision, always wondering if a better ‘match’ was just one more swipe away. This can lead to a constant, low-level dissatisfaction and an inability to commit to the perfectly imperfect human right in front of us.

The Character Limit of the Soul

I get invited to social events often, and I must confess, I rarely attend. I find myself shrinking away from the inevitable, scripted dance of introductions. “So, what do you do for a living?” “Where are you from?” These questions, while well-intentioned, often feel like attempts to quickly categorise me, to place me in a neat little box so the other person can decide if I’m worth their time. It’s the real-world equivalent of scanning a bio.

Our digital profiles are the ultimate expression of this. We are forced to distil the vast, messy, beautiful complexity of our lives into a few witty sentences and a handful of carefully selected images. We become a brand, a walking CV. We highlight our successes, our adventures, our most socially acceptable interests. There is little room for vulnerability, for the quirks, for the quiet, un-photogenic moments that truly define us.

This creates a pressure to perform, to constantly be ‘on’. The person you meet online is often the highlight reel. The real person, with their doubts, their off-days, and their beautifully human flaws, comes later. And in a culture that prioritises instant gratification, we sometimes lack the patience to get past the polished exterior and discover the soul within. We’ve forgotten that the most interesting parts of a person are rarely listed on their profile.

From Courage to Clicks

I remember a time before smartphones became the social intermediaries they are today. If you saw someone across a room and felt a spark of attraction, your options were simple, yet terrifying. You had to summon the courage to walk over, risk rejection, and actually speak to them. The interaction was immediate, unfiltered, and intensely human. Your ‘profile’ was your presence, your energy, the look in your eyes.

Social media and instant messaging have, in many ways, removed the need for that raw courage. We can connect with anyone, anywhere, often masked behind an identity of our own creation. This digital buffer can be a gift for the shy or anxious, but it has also given rise to a new, sterile form of interaction where difficult conversations are avoided with the click of a ‘block’ or ‘unmatch’ button. Phenomena like ‘ghosting’—ending a relationship by simply disappearing—are a direct consequence of a system that de-emphasises mutual respect and accountability.

The journey to find authentic connection can feel like a struggle. If you’re navigating this landscape, feeling exhausted by the endless swiping and the superficial conversations, know this: you are not alone. This is a shared modern experience. The frustration you feel is a valid response to a system that often prioritises quantity over quality. In these moments of digital fatigue, finding a way to return to your centre is crucial (you might find a grounding moment helpful here). It’s about remembering that you are more than a profile, and you are seeking something that cannot be quantified by an algorithm.

The Unforgettable Feeling of Connection

Here’s the truth that I hold onto. I’ve been in rooms with all sorts of people. I’ve met individuals who, on paper, are incredibly impressive. And yet, the encounters that have left the deepest mark on me are rarely the ones that ticked a logical box.

I’ve met someone at an event, and we’ve just clicked. We’ve talked, we’ve laughed, we’ve vibed on the same energetic frequency. An hour later, I’ve probably forgotten their name (I’m terrible with names), but I have not, for one second, forgotten how they made me feel. In that moment, I was truly with them. They weren’t their job title or their follower count. They were just them, and I was just me, and the space between us was filled with a genuine, unforced energy. How we met, that becomes the story. Not what we were looking for, but what we found unexpectedly.

The algorithm sorts the data; the heart feels the energy.

This, I believe, is the North Star. This is what we must not lose sight of. The real connection, the one that nourishes the soul, is a feeling. It’s an energetic resonance. It’s the experience of being truly seen, heard and understood by another person, beyond the labels and the bios.

For those of you in loving, committed relationships—whether personal or strategic—take a moment to recognise what you have. Feel grateful for the connection that exists beyond a checklist. It is a rare and beautiful thing in this modern world.

And for those of you still searching, here is a perspective to consider: shift your focus. Instead of searching for a type, search for a feeling. Instead of optimising your profile, optimise your presence. Show up in the world—both online and off—as your most authentic self. Approach interactions not as interviews, but as opportunities for a shared human experience.

The tools have changed, but the fundamental human need for deep, meaningful connection has not. It is not found in the swipe, but in the shared laughter. It is not written in a bio, but in the feeling of being understood. It is, and always will be, beautifully, stubbornly, and wonderfully human.