Boyfriends are embarrassing and dating apps are dying. What’s the alternative?

Looking for love? Join the queue. New Zealanders are marrying less and later, with many more likely to be single compared to even a decade ago. In 2023, 45% of the population was “non-partnered” compared to 39.4% in 2013. Romantic relationships have declined across all age brackets between 15 and 64. 

Experts think algorithmic dating apps are contributing to the highly publicised “loneliness epidemic” among the young. What’s a singleton to do? Is it time for a return to good old fashioned matchmaking? Before you call for Miss Woodhouse, there are several professional services in New Zealand, each aiming to solve the conundrum of modern dating.

Oh really?

Yep. One of the newest is Shortlist, a “curated” service aimed at 25-45 year olds and billed as a “human alternative to dating apps”. Rather than ongoing fees, clients pay for a package of three blind dates. The dates only start  after an initial screening, which includes a detailed form – outlining their background, values and intentions – and a video call with Shortlist. “It’s not a subscription service,” says founder Sophia Christina Berry-Smith.” When she thinks she’s found a match, it will check both parties are interested and pass on phone numbers (no photos though, those are withheld to minimise preconceptions). “Then it’s literally over to them.”

Berry-Smith experienced years of frustration on dating apps. Before meeting her current partner (on Bumble) she’d enlisted a matchmaker and realised the old practice might solve contemporary problems. “I just genuinely feel like the way we interact on these apps is not human anymore.” Coupled with what she says is a decline in real-life opportunities to meet people and a reluctance to approach each other, dating in New Zealand can prove challenging. “A lot of people have lost hope.” 

Clients of all genders have expressed frustration with online dating. “Dating app mentality makes everyone disposable,” one says. “People always think there’s someone better waiting so they never stay.” Another described them as a “conveyor belt of disappointment”.

Yeah that tracks. Still, a matchmaker revival wasn’t on my bingo card.

But then, something had to give. Ally Gibson, a senior lecturer in health psychology at Victoria University of Wellington, researches relationships and has seen people reporting heightened feelings of disconnection, fatigue, boredom, hopelessness and dissatisfaction.

“Mobile dating apps have always involved a cycle of emotional and behavioural responses – the promise of newness, the excitement of getting matched, and the seemingly endless supply of possible dates.” These cycles were exacerbated and accelerated during the pandemic, when people had a surplus of time (much of which was spent much online) and felt socially and physically isolated. “With that in mind, tailored matchmaking services like Shortlist and Compatico appear to be well timed in their offerings.” She notes that matchmaking businesses usually cater to an “affluent demographic” which, given our population size and the cost-of-living-crisis, could prove a constraint to the industry.

So, it’s kind of like pay to play?

That’s one way to put it. Compatico’s clients skew older, with a median age of 61. They’re largely successful business people and entrepreneurs who have “amassed assets” like property, the company’s CEO Elise Dalrymple-Keast says. Even clients still in their 30s have wealth. Millennials are a growing demographic for them. Many are “struggling to meet someone”. They’re high-achievers, or have spent years focusing on their careers, but now can’t find someone at the same level or speed. Older clients feel similarly out of step. “The number one sentence I hear is ‘I’m young for my age’,” says Dalrymple-Keast. “The hard thing is they all want to date younger… that can be a real barrier.”

Given its target market, Compatico (which was founded by business heavyweight Dame Theresa Gattung, who sold it in June) is designed with checks and balances. The price point acts as a filter, so does registration. “It’s a bit of a process to join us.” After applying you choose a membership tier; Platinum is “matchmaking in its most traditional sense”. 

Clients want for privacy and discretion. “They’re often CEOs, directors, judges – we get that a lot – and high-profile lawyers,” says Dalrymple-Keast. “So they have to be really, really careful with the people that they meet up with.” Clients can even provide black lists of names (good for small towns, sensitive professions or avoiding ex-partners).

What people are looking for varies. Some seek commitment and co-habitation, while others want a companion but also space. “The older you get, people are looking more for just someone to do activities with and to travel with,” explains  Elise Dalrymple-Keast. Younger clients are more likely to seek a potential spouse. “Some people – especially in their 30s and 40s – are looking for someone to have children with, whereas that’s certainly not the case at the older end of the spectrum.”

But it’s 2025, surely we’ve solved dating by now?

Lol. You wish! While matchmaking services are nothing new (and the practice may take place more informally in other communities) many of the problems they’re aiming to solve are.

Dating in 2025 is notoriously fraught. Every week another survey or article outlines crises of loneliness, isolation and romantic disillusionment; even boyfriends themselves have been declared embarrassing. Meeting people is becoming more challenging and less fun as the novelty of algorithmic dating apps wears off.

Globally, dating apps are in decline. Multibillion-dollar conglomerate Match Group, which counts Tinder, Hinge and OKCupid among the dozen dating platforms it owns, has seen its share price and paying users fall. Bumble is cutting a third of its staff. Its shares have slumped too. Like that person you hooked up with a few times and never heard from again, users are ghosting apps, turned off by increasing gamification, lack of success and concerns about safety measures both on and offline.

Dating scams are on the rise. The 2025 Online Dating Norton Cyber Safety Insights Report showed 31% of New Zealanders on dating apps have been targeted, with 38% falling for it and 63% of victims losing money. Over half of those grifts were romance scams (essentially, the scammer develops a fraudulent romantic relationship in search of financial or material gain) while 38% involve catfishing.

That’s nuts! Is anyone doing anything?

Some countries have started legislating to protect the lonely hearts, with Australia leading the charge by implementing an industry code and oversight body for online dating apps.

For matchmaking agencies like Shortlist, a video-call step helps establish authenticity and all applicants have to upload ID. Berry-Smith also weeds out applicants looking for casual hook-ups rather than a relationship. “I’ve declined a lot of people based on their responses.”

Compatico takes things a step further. “We do a police check on every single member, so that means there are no fake profiles. People can’t lie about their age or about their dodgy past,” explains Dalrymple-Keast. “We find out [if] there’s fraud or any kind of violent charges.” Many clients have first-hand experience of online subterfuge; men come to them exhausted and disheartened by dating apps after seeing “so many fake profiles and scams” as well as bots.

What about matchmaking, have there been any challenges there?

Certainly. Some even made headlines. Six months after its February 2024 launch, when Gattung still owned the company, frustrated clients told media they hadn’t had enough dates or events and there was a shortage of men. By the time Dalrymple-Keast bought the company, she says it had “about equal numbers of men and women joining.” Since then, it has increased the number of events and community gatherings, improved processes and expanded marketing, among other measures. “Like any young company, Compatico had a learning curve.” 

Dating is hard, even with the professionals involved. “Finding a meaningful partner in life is not an instant experience or a quick transaction,” says Dalrymple-Keast. It’s getting harder. 

Psychology lecturer Ally Gibson has, during her research, heard from people who were frustrated with mobile dating apps and how difficult it is to meet people in person, which explains why matchmaking services are “well timed” and alluring. “On a positive note, Compatico is run by trained professionals in sexology and psychology, meaning any matchmaking service would presumably be informed by psychological evidence and professional experience.”

The in-person events offered by these companies target common frustrations, but she says there is still room for improvement. “I would argue that more thought needs to be put into how these events could be more affordable and accessible to a wider population. But I guess that’s not the point of a business model.”

With subscription or fee-based services, the problem-solving offered by modern matchmaking companies is a cost not everyone can afford, particularly in a cost-of-living crisis. “How many people could access or benefit from these services?” Gibson says. “Given the small size of the population and then the number of people who can afford these services, how successful are they in finding suitable dates for people?” 

Damn. That’s all a bit bleak.

Yeah. Amidst the distrust of digital platforms and paradox of choice, it might be easier to just look offline. “The pandemic has really deepened feelings of isolation and social disconnection, making normal, everyday things like dating, going to uni, meeting new people, feel more daunting than they used to,” says Gibson.

Anecdotally, among younger, single people there seems to be a return to the informal “know-any-hotties?” kind of matchmaking happening in extended friend groups – though others say “no mutual friends” is the real holy grail. 

There’s been arguments for the return of the “set up”, while others predict meeting romantic partners at offline events is due a renaissance.

The search to find someone could take you far and wide. As with many current challenges, like landing a job and affording groceries, dating frustrations are reportedly causing New Zealanders to seek opportunities abroad, with women declaring they’re leaving the country because of its “lazy” men.