It’s unsurprising that this rush is addictive; psychologist and addiction expert Dr Ree Langham explains these apps capitalise on the dopamine neurotransmitter: effectively, the reward regulation in our brain.

“The reward system is designed to encourage behaviours critical for survival by providing feelings of pleasure, which can be exploited by dating apps,” Dr Langham explains. “This can lead from dopamine surges of excitement at new matches or interactions.

“Over time, the brain associates these surges with the app, creating an increased usage and tolerance where more frequent or intense use is needed to achieve the same levels of satisfaction.” 

Dr Langham adds that in this respect, dating apps “can be as addictive as gambling”.

“The unpredictability of matches and messages creates excitement and paired with the endless swiping and infinite possibilities of finding a match, exploits the user’s curiosity and hope for potential connections.”

It’s little wonder, then, that Tinder, Hinge and other Match dating apps are facing a class-action lawsuit in California by six users, for designing its dating platforms with game-like features that “lock users into a perpetual pay-to-play loop”.

“Match’s business model depends on generating returns through the monopolisation of users’ attention, and Match has guaranteed its market success by fomenting dating app addiction that drives expensive subscriptions and perpetual use,” the lawsuit says. (A Match spokesperson, meanwhile, claims that “Our business model is not based on advertising or engagement metrics. We actively strive to get people on dates every day and off our apps.”)

But Andy certainly treats the apps like a game, describing Tinder and others like ‘an online multiplayer’ – constantly testing which pictures and prompt responses elicit the most matches.

“My friends and I used to have contests about who could get the most dates – I’d line up three women over the weekend, sometimes dating one girl in the afternoon and one at night,” he explains.

After scoring so many dates, Andy kept track of the women he was speaking to and seeing in an extensive spreadsheet, from the S tier (women he considers the best looking) to D tier (the least attractive). Andy sheepishly revealed if a woman’s name is in bold, it means they had sex (the spreadsheet has plenty of bold).

“I grew up in a generation where we all had Gameboys in our pocket,” he explains. “We could play Pokémon wherever we wanted. I view Tinder the same way – when I’m bored, I’d swipe through matches.”

It wasn’t just his spare time being eaten away. Andy found his wallet thoroughly pumped too, after spending around £30 a month on subscriptions such as Tinder and Hinge, which gives perks such as unlimited likes and for the algorithm to give your profile more prominence compared to free users. He even shelled out on a £200 lifetime subscription to Bumble.

“The apps give the impression you’re in control,” he says. “Almost as if the more effort and money you put in, the more success you’ll have.”

It’s something writer Genevieve Wheeler, 29, agrees with. She joined dating apps when she was 21, having moved from the United States to London to study. At one point, she found herself scrolling through various apps for five hours a day, checking in on her matches first thing in the morning, last thing at night and numerous times throughout the day.

While Genevieve matched with ‘hundreds’ of men, she only really had a few dates, and only had one successful relationship in response (they broke up after a year together).

“It felt like men were collecting matches like it was Super Mario,” she explains. “It was addictive as different people had different end goals – but you keep hoping you would meet someone aligned to you.”