There's a new alternative to Tinder and its premise is dividing the Mamamia office.

If you’re single, you’ve probably ventured into the tumultuous world of online dating. It’s all fun and games when you sign up, filled with lofty dreams of finding love (or late night company if that’s what you’re looking for.)

You get that first match, your confidence soars and adrenaline fills your finger as you swipe back and forth at hyper speed.

But then come the barrage of dick pics and an inevitable bout of RSI in your thumb.

And you start to think that maybe, just maybe, there is a world where you can’t fall for a guy’s crooked smile before you discover he’s into negging girls for sport.

And that’s the premise of Appetence, a new app that promises ‘slow dating’ with a focus on ‘the art of seduction.’ This new app covers users’ photos with a patchwork and you have to *gasp* talk to them to slowly reveal more of their face.

Listen: On Mamamia Out Loud, Mia Monz and Jessie discuss Appetence.

Although to me the phrase ‘art of seduction’ sounds more like a sleazy guy swirling his wine glass and making ‘come-hither’ eyes, than a typed conversation filled with witty banter.

Nonetheless. It raises an important question – are you more than your looks?

Apps like Tinder, Happn and Bumble want you to find your hotness counterpart – they don’t give a damn about whether you actually get along in person.

Meanwhile the folks at Appetence say they want you to feel special again. Awww. But how special would you feel if you spent days getting to know someone and slowly revealing layers of your personality and in turn your gorgeous face to them, only to have them ghost you when your picture is finally uncovered?


So are slow dating apps just inviting disappointment? Are we just wasting everyone’s time?

In my opinion, it’s not much worse than regular dating apps which work on the premise of first impressions. After all, how often does someone you meet online turn out to match their cyber persona?

He might be hilarious when he has time to draft his responses, but that counts for nothing at the dinner table. Plus, there’s that little thing called pheromones, people.

I get it, though. You know what’s sexy? Good conversation. Brains. A wry sense of humour.

But what if you finally chat enough to bring down the patchwork veil and it turns out to actually be a photo of a patchwork quilt? Or as Jessie suggested on the podcast, he’s holding a bag of cocaine and a gun?

That’s just not a risk I’m willing to take.

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