Say you meet a man: single, charming, intelligent, all his own teeth sort of thing. Then jitters kick in, and you find yourself wondering if he is as perfect as he seems.
You go through all the usual channels: Google, LinkedIn, Instagram – possibly even ChatGPT – to see what you can find. His digital footprint is clean, but something still seems… a little off.
Maybe it’s the way he speaks so vaguely about his childhood, or makes subtle, persistent digs at an ex-girlfriend that even your tireless investigative work hasn’t been able to find online.
This is where the Tea dating app comes in. Launched in 2023, the US-based platform allows women to share safety information and “spill the tea” about men they are considering dating.
So, in theory, you could meet a man, look him up on the app, and discover that he’s married, has a criminal record, or is a potential catfish. Marketing itself as “the largest women’s group chat in the US”, Tea lets users “review” single men in the hope of ensuring safe dating for heterosexual women everywhere. It’s popular too, with 1.6 million users to date.
Unfortunately, what seemed like a long-awaited, even vital, tool has been attacked.
Last week, Tea announced that it had been hacked in a suspected misogynistic backlash, exposing around 72,000 images, including the photo identification of its users. Tea later updated users that some of their direct messages (DMs) had also been accessed by hackers. It has since turned off its messaging functionality, and says it will be offering “free identity protection services” to any users it identifies as having been exposed.
I’m not remotely surprised by any of this. Even before the hacking incident, which has sparked discussion around sensitive information being shared online, Tea was seen as controversial and accused of being fundamentally misandrist.
Its intentions were good: founder Sean Cook launched Tea after becoming privy to his mother’s online dating experiences. She was catfished and matched with a man who, unbeknownst to her, had criminal records. Tea was designed to rectify this – and in another world, perhaps it could.
But in this one, I fear that platforms like this may end up causing more problems than they solve.
It’s important to know if someone you’re about to date has a criminal record, isn’t who they say they are, is on a sex offender registry, or has a history of abusive behaviour. But beyond those parameters, do single women really need to know about another woman’s – largely subjective – red flags? How is writing off any man because of what his exes have said about him at all helpful? To me, it seems myopic, insulting, and deeply unfair.
Many of us behave badly in relationships. It’s human nature; we mess up, and that’s true of both men and women. I’m sure my exes could rack up a list of terrible things I’ve said and done, which, taken out of context, could put off any future suitor. But people change. We learn and grow into ourselves, often becoming different versions of who we are in different relationships.
Apps like Tea don’t allow for that nuance. It’s a binary system where bad reviews leave a permanent stain and add to the pessimism characterising the dating landscape, particularly for straight women. Consider the rising popularity of terms like “heterofatalism” – used to describe the increasing despair among women who feel there are no “good men” left.
Equally troubling is that app’s showcasing of green flags. Just because one man was a great boyfriend to one woman does not guarantee good behaviour with every other female partner. Isn’t thinking that it does potentially as risky as going out with someone whose reviews are littered with red flags?
In an ideal world, we would all of us – men and women – go on dates with people who’ve been vetted. There would be no risk of being ghosted, stood up, or manipulated. Sure, it would be lovely. But we don’t live in an ideal world, as Tea has neatly reminded us.
