He had already spent two hours on the app and passed dozens of faces without messaging anyone. He put his phone down, closed his eyes, then picked it up again seconds later.
“Some nights I keep swiping past 1 a.m. without even thinking about it,” he says. “My eyes are exhausted, but my fingers just keep moving.”
Nam installed Tinder after a breakup three years ago, initially hoping to find someone to talk to. He chose an obscured profile picture, jotted down a brief bio, and kicked off an endless search. What began as an innocent desire for companionship gradually gave way to a string of fleeting flings. At one point, he was chatting with 10 women at the same time every evening, sending them all the same canned, copy-and-paste greetings.
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understand each other in real life. Illustration photo from Pixabay Healthy relationships are built on genuine understanding in real life, not the number of likes received online. Illustration photo from Pixabay |
“I used to think I had so many choices, but after each rushed encounter, waking up alone in my room left me completely hollow. All my emotions slowly went numb, until I no longer had any desire to listen to or get to know anyone,” he says.
Across town in Binh Thanh District, 24-year-old Thuy Linh found herself in a different crisis whenever she stepped away from the digital world. Online, Linh cultivated the persona of an articulate, quick-witted conversationalist who racked up dozens of matches every week. She could easily stay awake until 2:00 a.m. texting a promising match every single day for an entire month.
Her trouble began with the first date at a coffee shop in District 1. Stripped of the text box that allowed her to deliberate over phrasing and hide behind emojis, she froze under the man’s direct gaze. For two hours, she kept her head down, clutching the phone resting on the table, and murmuring one-word replies.
“I felt completely suffocated and terrified having to face a real person. Ever since that day, I’ve made a habit of blocking people or vanishing entirely the moment they suggest meeting up in real life,” she says.
The experiences of Nam and Linh mirror a broader reality among urban youth after more than a decade of dating-app proliferation.
Many turn to digital platforms as their go-to venue for meeting people, drawn by speed, convenience, and the comfort of staying home.
Yet, beneath that convenience, lies a silent, corrosive toll on mental well-being. A 2025 survey by Forbes Health found that 78% of U.S. users suffered from dating app fatigue, with the figure climbing to 79% among Gen Z.
Data from the Pew Research Center similarly indicates that users increasingly view online connections through a negative lens due to a persistent lack of emotional depth. A report published by the Hindustan Times in early 2026 said 79% of Indian Gen Z users are grappling with “dating-app burnout”.
Vietnam has yet to compile such statistics and there is only anecdotal evidence. Like the one provided by Vuong Nguyen Toan Thien, clinical director of the Lumos Psychological Counseling and Therapy Center, who says his facility in Ho Chi Minh City regularly treats young people who feel completely directionless because of online dating app dependence.
“When the search for a relationship is reduced to an endless cycle of screening, evaluating, and rejecting, users can easily begin questioning their self-worth.
“[Besides]the uncertainty behind every swipe triggers the brain’s dopamine release much like a game of chance, conditioning users to compulsively chase digital validation.”
Several international studies substantiate this.
Research published in the journal BMC Psychology found that dating app users report markedly higher levels of depression and psychological stress than non-users, while the unpredictability of each swipe operates like an intermittent reward system, hooking users and turning the pursuit of validation into a compulsive habit.
And, a choice overload complicates things. A study published in Computers in Human Behavior says exposure to an overwhelming volume of profiles intensifies the fear of being single, erodes self-esteem, and encourages people to treat potential partners like consumer commodities.
To compound this, the common practice of abruptly cutting off contact leaves lingering emotional scars due to the absence of clear closure.
Even so, experts caution against laying all the blame on technology for the emotional exhaustion seen among young people.
“Dating apps are merely a conduit, reflecting the demand for fast connections amid the hurried pace of urban life; the real issue is not the swipe mechanic itself, but the consumerist mindset applied to relationships,” Thien explains.
He points out that many young users enter the virtual space chasing instant gratification or treating people like a product catalog to be endlessly compared.
Without healthy emotional filters and interpersonal communication skills, users can easily turn a tool meant for expanding their social circle into a self-imposed trap of isolation.
To stave off emotional exhaustion, Thien advises young adults to set firm boundaries: limit app use to 15–20 minutes per session and no more than one or two sessions a day, stay off screens before bedtime, focus deeply on two or three matches rather than spreading themselves thin, and resist the urge to open the app as a knee-jerk reaction to boredom or loneliness.
“A healthy relationship does not begin with how many likes you receive on a screen, but with whether two people can truly see and understand each other in real life.”
Users should watch for early warning signs, such as opening an app purely out of habit, feeling hollow after browsing, or tying their self-esteem to their match count, he adds.
When digital burnout sets in, taking a one- to two-week hiatus can help restore healthy sleep habits and daily routines.
Nam has since deleted every dating app on his phone and joined a weekend running club, while Linh enrolled in a pottery class to practice interacting with people in person. Both admit that walking away was far from easy, and that the urge to re-download the apps still strikes from time to time.
One recent weekend evening, Nam picked up his phone out of habit, paused for several seconds on the home screen, and set it back on the table. “It’s been a long time since I fell asleep without swiping.”