Trying to use dating apps when you're a lesbian is pretty grim - here's why (2024)

It’s no real shocker that browsing dating apps in 2024 makes for a grim activity. Creating a profile on the likes of Hinge or Tinder can feel a fruitless endeavour at the best of times but as a lesbian, it’s really hard not to let it wear you down.

If it isn’t a couple begging for a threesome, it’s a cisgender man changing his settings so he only appears to queer women.The latter happens every time I log in – I can swipe 20 times and 15 of the possible matches who appear will be men seeking just one thing. Ugh.

It’s exhausting, to say the least, with LGBTQ+ women being perceived as only seeking a hook-up or in desperate need of validation from a man to ‘fix’ us.

And it’s not just me feeling this way.

Jasmine from London has used Tinder, HER (a lesbian, queer, bisexual, and sapphic community dating app), and Bumble in the past, both on the hunt for something casual and for a long-term relationship.

As a fellow lesbian, she finds it infuriating to have cis men appear on her feed – because, as she states emphatically, she is ‘not interested’.

‘They will list themselves as a “woman” so they appear to me,’ Jasmine, 26, tells Metro. ‘It makes me so angry that their accounts aren’t banned for this. Why do they feel the need to invade what should be a safe lesbian space?’

So, why do masses of queer women choose digital dating if it’s that dire? The sad reality is, we can’t meet in bars the way we used to. The LGBTQ+ club scene is in crisis, with six in 10 in London alone closing their doors between 2006 and 2022. Only 50 LGBTQ+ venues remain in the capital.

Thus, we venture onto apps. As a small-town girl from Lancashire, they allow me to expand my search and show me a vibrant, diverse world beyond my nook in the countryside, where sexuality often remains taboo and suppression is key to survival.

However, while such breaches of dating app guidelines may seem harmless, for the queer women on the receiving end, it’s another reminder that our sexuality isn’t deemed legitimate by all.

There’s a reason why ‘lesbian’ is one of the top categories on p*rn websites year in, year out. In 2022, p*rnhub revealed that the term was the most commonly searched word across all 50 American states. Yes, this includes women who want their p*rn to focus on female pleasure – but it also includes straight men seeking gratification from a community they believe exists solely to stimulate their arousal.

As someone who often reports rogue accounts, Jasmine implores the brains behind these dating apps to do more to protect us, as they still keep ‘slipping through the net’.

‘Catfish are a serious issue too. I’ve had people using other people’s photos and creating fake accounts, and I’ve had male-female couples appear wanting threesomes, which is totally unwanted,’ she says.

‘Apps should come with a feature that allows you to block couples because I’m sick of seeing them when I am not interested in men.

‘The influx of couples wanting a third perpetuates the narrative that women only want to have sex with women to impress men, as well as seeing lesbians and bisexual women as “unicorns” who will always want a three-way.

‘It’s dehumanising to receive angry messages from frustrated men who have been rejected. They try to gaslight me, insisting they are real women but making me question why it would matter if they were a man. Tinder should create a separate option for couples wanting threesomes so people can filter those profiles out.’

Like myself, Jasmine is ‘mentally exhausted’ from feeling unsafe on dating apps. It’s one of the reasons why she’s giving up hope of finding someone compatible.

Of course, no one expects these sites to be perfect. With 530million downloads since its launch in 2012, Tinder has created a whopping 75billion matches, which makes it inevitable that, somewhere along the line, two users won’t be soulmates.

Basic safeguarding, however, shouldn’t be an issue.

Hannah, a 30-year-old bisexual woman from Hertfordshire, has a complex relationship with dating apps. Despite being attracted to both men and women, she has previously used apps to solely search for females.

‘I had one instance where I was talking to a female in her late twenties for four days, after which we agreed to video call. Much to my surprise, a male in his late thirties answered,’ she recalls.

‘He explained that he was having trouble finding women so he wanted to pose as a girl because, firstly, girl-on-girl conversations “turn him on”. He also believed that because I’d stated on my profile I was bisexual, if I had fallen for his personality, it wouldn’t matter that he was male.’

Hannah didn’t respond to the man and reported him to the app as ‘a fake’. She has since decided to take a break from dating apps.

‘I’m unsure what happened to him after that, but it makes me feel scared about dipping my toe back into the dating pool because it involves putting your faith in someone actually being who they claim to be.’

What makes things more complicated, Hannah adds, is that after years of trying to accept her sexuality, she feels the need to censor herself when digital dating.

‘As a bisexual woman, men only ever want to discuss how many women I’d been with, or whether I’d be interested in threesomes. It got to a point where I began setting my sexuality to “straight” when I was looking for male dates,’ she explains.

‘I never had this with women. It makes me feel like I have to hide my sexuality when cross-dating.’

Francesca Johnson, a behavioural science and dating expert, believes that toxic behaviour is not all down to the individual on dating apps. ‘Product design is also to blame,’ she insists.

She should know, as Francesca is also the founder of Mattr – a dating app that prides itself on being inclusive and neurodivergent-friendly. ‘People of queer backgrounds need to be involved in product design to remove biases and include learnings from individual experiences that others may face.

‘Your standard apps don’t necessarily have community at their core, so not everyone feels able to unmask and be their true selves for either fear of rejection or something more sinister.’

She adds that ‘a one size fits all dating experience doesn’t work for marginalised groups like the queer community,’ hence why ‘values and community-first spaces are needed with enhanced safety features to make people feel comfortable.’

Meanwhile, Hannah suggests stronger verification systems as a means of combating this tiresome problem.

‘Dating apps used by WLW (women loving women) ought to have more thorough verification processes and ask in-depth questions during sign-up so users prove they are a woman. This should also filter out catfish.’

However, there is a concern that such verification processes might place obstacles in the paths of transgender users who merely wish to flirt on dating apps like the rest of us, particularly those who aren’t physically ‘female passing.’

Jasmine agrees that apps simply aren’t rigorous enough when it comes to allowing any Tom, Dick, and Harry to sign up. While she praises the likes of HER for taking reports of catfishing and abuse seriously, she believes Tinder needs to step up more.

‘There should be a “three strikes and you’re out” rule to prevent the same individuals from harassing and stalking women,’ she suggests.

As a femme lesbian, heteronormativity is my worst enemy. I am assumed to be straight daily because I do not ‘look’ gay. To then have men challenge me via dating apps and push even more unwanted attention my way, it’s hard not to view the dating landscape as bleak. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that seeds of doubt are planted in my mind – would life be easier if I changed how I present?

But should I do that, I am not being me. I would be doing a disservice to the little girl who spent years crying herself to sleep because she felt so restless in her own skin, and fearful of being ostracised.

I shouldn’t be the one to change.What has to change is the mechanics of such platforms spearheaded by, predominantly, straight, cis men.

We need queer people in the room to stress the importance of our safe spaces. After all, anti-LGBTQ+ hate crimes are up by 112% in the last five years. What’s more, research from the BBC in 2022 found that 63% of dating app users have felt uncomfortable on a date initiated via an app, and 33% have experienced harassment or abuse on such dates.

So until apps designed solely for queer women are given the same backing, insight and marketing as the app titans of the industry, our needs will sadly never be fully met.

MORE : US city with ‘enduring charm’ dubbed most sexually liberated in the world

MORE : My sister-in-law had my baby — I’m an uncle to my biological son

MORE : My married lover is staying with her husband because he makes more money

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.