Dating apps' promises exceed reality – and yet we wait for the next swipe right Letters

Like Gatsby's endless examination of Daisy's green light across the bay, the singleton's incessant search for "ideal" remains always out of reach (I'm a dating app evangelist – but even I'm not on Tinder any more, 15 August; Dating apps have made our love lives hell. Why do we keep using them?, 16 August). The promise exceeds what reality will deliver: the facade of beauty, wit and chemistry conjured through our screens belies doctored images, unrepentant creeps and bores. The collective romantic subconscious, carefully curated by Disney and Richard Curtis, cannot survive its collision with reality. And this is to say nothing of those we leave in our wake: the flattened Myrtle Wilsons and proverbial pulped fruits at Gatsby's door waiting for the next swipe-right to pick through.