**A Brief History of Internet Dating Among Young People**

The evolution of matchmaking, from traditional one-on-one meetings to an assembly-line style of selection, shows how the internet has transformed not only the dating process but also how young people perceive intimate relationships. In this journey into the unknown, as emotions are enhanced by technology and efficiency, the younger generation grapples with a duality of rationality and emotion—some find themselves mired in frustration and confusion, while others grow through reflection.

Chen Mai logs into three different dating platforms during her daily routine: on the subway to work, during her lunch break at the office, and before she goes to bed. Every day, she checks the “Today’s Recommendations” and quickly scans through potential matches based on age, education, and occupation, making split-second judgments—either “no spark” or “intrigued,” averaging two seconds per assessment.

This is Chen Mai’s third year of “cloud matchmaking,” and she experiences a tidal wave of tiredness and anticipation.

From matchmaking websites focusing on elite universities to social platforms that empower young users with choices to dating apps born out of the romantic needs of tech industry employees, the online matchmaking market continues to expand when compared to traditional methods. Reports indicate that over 6,000 social networking apps now exist in China, with online dating users exceeding 30 million.

In this new model, users create profiles detailing their self-introductions and partner preferences, while platforms use big data for personalized matching. If there’s mutual interest, chatting begins, leading to in-person meetings. According to the “2024-2025 China Marriage and Dating Service Market Research Report” from iiMedia Consulting, over half of consumers have a positive attitude toward matchmaking, with 42.1% preferring to meet potential partners online. In this process, traditional dating standards are dismantled, personal appeal becomes quantifiable, and algorithms take on the role of matchmakers, making encounters easier and interactions more efficient.

However, with unprecedented choices available, many young adults discover that falling in love isn’t as simple as it seems.

**Meeting Societal Expectations**

Five years ago, Chen Mai graduated from a university in Tianjin and moved to Beijing to work as an editor at a social sciences publishing house. In the first two years, she decorated her rental apartment to be cozy and warm, reveling in the joys of living alone. After work, she learned guitar, watched films, and spent weekends exploring Beijing. Recently graduated, she embraced her new life without urgency about dating or marriage.

Initially, the pressure came from her parents. Having excelled academically, they were concerned that while her cousins were marrying off one by one, their daughter was still single. After a family gathering during the Spring Festival, her parents had a serious talk with her about marriage, insisting she needed to feel a sense of urgency. These conversations became frequent after that.

Feeling the pressure, Chen Mai realized she was being pushed along by the “social clock.” After competing to excel academically, she now found herself racing toward marriage. Although she resisted her parents’ urgings at first, she ultimately compromised, thinking, “I have to meet societal expectations before being true to myself.”

However, the reality of dating proved far more challenging than she imagined. Her ideal partner was a sunny, optimistic STEM type, complementary to her. But with her fixed work schedule and daily commute, opportunities to meet new people beyond her familiar circle were limited.

Since the 1970s, perspectives on love have gradually shifted. A recent report by Xinhua recognized the evolution of matchmaking methods in China over the past half-century, tracing changes from the early 2000s’ dating websites and SMS, through 2010s’ online relationships leading to in-person meetings, to the variety of methods available recently. Today’s younger generations look for soulful connections in their matchmaking.

Attracted to platforms aimed at high-achieving individuals, Chen Mai found them more conducive for meeting potential partners. After registering, she pinned the service accounts from three platforms to the top of her WeChat chat list, diligently checking in daily, treating “finding love” with the same seriousness as her studies.

In stark contrast, 33-year-old Zhang Yu has always been enamored with the idea of marriage. Growing up in a happy household, he recalls his parents engaging in endless conversations, with his mother’s cheerful tone and his father’s warm smiles. This image formed his blueprint for love.

After graduating from a university in Beijing with a mathematics degree, he became even more eager for connection and companionship. Due to limited time and energy, he took to the internet to find a partner. On the last Singles’ Day (November 11) two years ago, he opened a matchmaking app and embarked on his quest for love.

**An Assembly-Line Approach to Choice**

Before he could start “cloud matchmaking”, he needed to set up his personal profile. The platform required him to fill out details such as age, height, weight, education, family background, interests, and views on love, allowing potential matches to view and quickly judge his profile. To present the best version of himself, each user had to carefully consider and break down their qualities.

On his profile, Zhang Yu presented himself as a 33-year-old financial professional with a height of 5’7” and a master’s degree, with an annual salary of $50,000. To enhance his competitiveness, he frequently browsed other profiles, continually improving his own introduction. If he saw other men describe themselves as “easygoing and a good listener,” he would add, “Though I’m from Shandong, I’m definitely not a misogynist.” Noting traits that others found undesirable, he would reassure potential matches, adding comments about his engaging personality or assuring them of his good grooming.

At noon each day, the platform would recommend ten curated users to Zhang Yu. Every three hours, he’d receive a match of thirty local single women. Initially, he scrutinized each woman’s profile to assess compatibility based on personality, but over time, he became overwhelmed by the similarity he encountered. “In many profiles, hobbies like reading or traveling are common, and the most frequent criteria for choosing partners are ‘having compatible values’ and ‘responsibility’.”

Finding everyone so similar, he felt as though he were lost in a sea of indistinguishable individuals.

Now, Zhang Yu’s selection process has become more efficient. He first checks the birth year of a potential match; if she is older, he swipes past. He then assesses her height, eliminating any under 5’2”. If both age and height are acceptable, he skimmed the photos and details; if she seemed attractive and had educational qualifications, he wouldn’t hesitate to send a “like.”

To gain more options on the platforms, there are two primary strategies: actively posting updates in the social sections for greater visibility or subscribing to premium memberships, a key revenue source for these platforms.

As a practical person, Chen Mai opted for a premium membership. On the platforms she used, the quarterly fees ranged from about $50 to $80. After some comparison, she decided to start with the least expensive one. As a non-member, her ability to view visitors and prospective matches was quite limited. Now, as a member, she can endlessly check on visitors and who’s expressed interest while refining her search criteria—she humorously likened it to an HR process for filtering resumes or an emperor sifting through suitors.

At 26, Shen Chen, a teacher in Shenzhen from Liaoning, navigates multiple platforms just like Chen Mai. However, this sometimes leads to awkward overlaps, as was the case when a man she had previously matched with on one platform reappeared on another, eager to strike up a conversation. Last time they chatted, he repetitively asked, “Have you eaten? What are you up to?” Initially thinking him dull, she began to see it as an indicator of his limited interest—”casting a wide net.” “How much sincerity can you demand before truly knowing someone?” she reflected, exasperated.

**Dating: Like Opening Blind Boxes**

Once matches are confirmed, the platform’s role ends, and users must take initiative to move forward. In traditional setups, intermediaries provided assurance, so both sides often came prepared. However, on dating platforms, profiles are carefully curated to present an idealized version of oneself, making first meetings feel more like unboxing a surprise.

Chen Mai’s attitudes toward in-person meetings evolved over time. Initially, she felt apprehensive and followed numerous relationship coaches for advice on how to break the ice and avoid awkwardness. Now she’s often the one suggesting meetings—if conversations on WeChat go smoothly for about a week, she thinks it’s worth advancing to a face-to-face encounter, preferring to get it over with quickly.

Before each outing, she would log back into the platform to refresh her memory about her match. Her insights suggest that it’s important to focus not only on what’s explicitly stated but also on what’s omitted. For example, if a profile superficially mentions family background, she tactfully probes about parental retirement or pension situations. She keeps an eye out for small details: a man’s posture, whether he considers her preferences in choosing a meal, and how he treats waitstaff.

In settings like these, men are generally expected to take on a more proactive role, a sentiment Zhang Yu shares. During their first date, he often suggests a coffee shop, then decides whether to move on for a meal based on chemistry. “Each meal adds up, and sometimes the lady offers to split the bill. Even so, I never let her pay; I see it as a test,” he explains. For second dates, he prefers more relaxed settings like hiking, visiting exhibitions, or walking in parks to foster deeper connections.

Li Jianzhong, Zhang Yu’s college roommate who works as a programmer for an internet company in Haidian, might approach dating similarly to coding, with a meticulous attitude.

To track his dating progress, he created an Excel spreadsheet categorizing prospective partners’ basic info, date of connecting on WeChat, and the details of their meetups. Prior to first encounters, he creates a few questions based on shared interests to alleviate any awkward silences. After each date, he logs comments summarizing the outcomes, whether they were successful or what might have gone wrong.

In contrast, Shen Chen has faced many disillusioning moments during her dating adventures. One guy claimed to be 6’0″, but he stood around her height of 5’8″. Another was articulate online yet socially awkward in person, avoiding eye contact while speaking. In yet another instance, after a promising match with a lawyer whose background left her impressed, he made unwelcome advances during a secluded park walk.

Consequently, Shen Chen abandoned her “career filter” and refused to meet for nighttime dates. Such events left people wary of online matchmaking, with a survey indicating that over 40% of respondents expressed concerns about fake profiles, marketing gimmicks, and privacy violations on dating platforms.

“Using dating platforms means monitoring one’s trust closely,” Li Jianzhong has learned. Some leading platforms perform educational and workplace validations to verify profiles. If someone hasn’t completed these checks, he concludes, despite their charming narratives, they’re either hiding something or aren’t serious about finding a partner.

**Right Fit but No Sparks**

Earlier this year, Shen Chen came close to finding “the one” when matched with a highly compatible lawyer. He was tall and lean, with a master’s degree, and came from an admirable family background. Over five months, their interactions developed, filled with his thoughtful gestures. He would remind her to bring an umbrella on rainy days and extended plenty of invitations.

Yet, she couldn’t seem to feel that special connection. During a casual lunch, he hinted at wanting to take things further, but she hesitated, resistant to commit. She pondered that perhaps it was his slender frame or his lack of humor playing a role—after all, she longed for that exhilarating feeling akin to what she experienced during her college romance, that might truly signify love.

Shen Chen understood that at this stage of dating, rationality should triumph over emotion. Nevertheless, after several meetings, she turned him down.

For Su Wei, a researcher, online dating feels akin to conducting experiments—there’s an element of mystique, and effort doesn’t always guarantee results. Standing at 6’0″ and wearing glasses, he embodies the typical perception of a STEM professional. Focused on his studies from undergraduate through to his Ph.D., he had never experienced romantic relationships. By the time he began to search for a partner, he was already well into his thirties.

To enhance his social skills, he eagerly signs up for social events organized by his workplace. He believes these gatherings provide a common ground for connection and learning how to interact better with potential partners.

For these gatherings, he types out a hilariously well-crafted introduction, noting, “Being a physics Ph.D. means I can cook and repair light bulbs—my skills are versatile!”

Li Jianzhong also joined a “Singles Club” organized by his alumni association, participating in various activities, from self-grilled barbecues at local reservoirs to playing board games. A senior he knows found love during a themed game night, where he connected over shared interests with a girl from the pharmacy college.

Late last year, Li Jianzhong finally found his match, significantly reducing the names on his spreadsheet to one. His girlfriend, whom he met on a dating platform, works at a bank and is two years younger than him. Just two months into their meeting, their relationship evolved into a committed romance, and they are now planning their wedding. “Finding love is challenging, and having someone who genuinely reciprocates makes it even rarer. We should cherish it,” he shared.

After three years of “cloud matchmaking,” Chen Mai has felt the ups and downs of her journey. Engaging with multiple prospects at once on the dating platforms, she often found herself weighing her options and grasping at the notion of abundance: “There are so many choices available; perhaps it’s worth waiting a little longer?”

Highly educated and financially stable young adults constitute a significant portion of the online dating demographic. According to a report from the matchmaking platform “Mo Shang Hua Kai,” as of April 2022, 66.51% of its users hold master’s degrees. Furthermore, 45.3% of male users and 24.09% of female users earn over $50,000 annually.

Every time Chen Mai encountered a man who seemed to surpass her in achievements, self-doubt crept in: “If only I were more accomplished.” Yet, she knew no one would wait for her