The dating app knows me better than I do, but these reams of intimate information are just the tip of the iceberg. What if my data is hacked — or sold? I recall a few of them very well: the ones who either became lovers, friends or terrible first dates. But Tinder has not. The dating app has pages of information on me, and probably on you too if you are also one of its 50 million users. In March I asked Tinder to grant me access to my personal data. Every European citizen is allowed to do so under EU data protection law, yet very few actually do, according to Tinder.
With the help of privacy activist Paul-Olivier Dehaye from and human rights lawyer Ravi Naik, I emailed Tinder requesting my personal data and got back way more than I bargained for.
Facebook has thousands of pages about you! As I flicked through page after page of my data I felt guilty. I was amazed by how much information I was voluntarily disclosing: from locations, interests and jobs, to pictures, music tastes and what I liked to eat. A study revealed Tinder users are excessively willing to disclose information without realising it. This is why seeing everything printed strikes you. We are physical creatures.
We need materiality. Tinder knows me so well. It knows how often you connect and at which times; the percentage of white men, black men, Asian men you have matched; which kinds of people are interested in you; which words you use the most; how much time people spend on your picture before swiping you, and so on.
Personal data is the fuel of the economy. What will happen if this treasure trove of data gets hacked, is made public or simply bought by another company? I can almost feel the shame I would experience.
