ST. PETERSBURG — They arrived in tight dresses and halter tops, cowboy boots and dark wash jeans.
With friends in tow for emotional support, they sipped red wine from glasses, kombucha from cans. They scanned the patio for other green wristbands, a declaration of singledom — the reason they were here.
It was a Thursday in 2024, and this was a bar, so Chappell Roan’s “HOT TO GO!” was blaring through the soundsystem. Some attendees nodded along, others tried to shake off their nerves.
The slideshow presentations began just before 8 p.m.
“Listen up,” said a woman in a blazer, addressing the crowd, which filled the outdoor area of Hawthorne Bottle Shoppe. “Standing up in the front is one of the most beautiful human beings you’ll ever meet. She’s literally like bottled sunshine.”
At the edge of the patio, a woman in an orange dress waved. The projector screen to her right read: “Have ya met my friend Allison?”
Welcome to Pitch-A-Friend Tampa Bay.
Ten years after the launch of Tinder, singles around the country are experiencing dating app fatigue. In a Forbes survey, 79% of Gen Zers and 80% of Millennials reported feeling burnt out by online dating. TikTok trends bear subject lines like “why I deleted the dating apps” and “dating app horror stories.” Though apps remain one of the most common ways to meet, more than half of women reported having a negative experience, a Pew Research Survey found.
In a world of endless swiping, ghosting and the feeling of meaninglessness that swaddles too many matches, Pitch-A-Friend invites singles to partake in an antidote: come meet in person, in the company of community, for a night that — if nothing else — will get you away from your screen.
Debuted in Philadelphia earlier this year, Pitch-A-Friend offers people looking for connection a new way to see and be seen. The events, typically hosted in bars, ask attendees to pitch their single friends in 3 to 5 minute slideshows. At the end of the night, contact information is shared and connections are hopefully made.
Ryan Wells, a 30-year-old St. Petersburg resident, was struggling to date in the region when he saw posts from the Philadelphia event on social media and reached out to founders about organizing Pitch-A-Friend locally.
“Everyone has an online dating horror story, but at the same time, it’s so hard to walk up to a stranger in a bar and do a cold open,” said Wells. “Pitch-A-Friend takes the pressure off of the single person. Now people know you’re available. Now you have something to talk about.”
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Since its debut, Pitch-A-Friend events have popped up in more than 30 cities around the U.S. Wells has organized four in bars and breweries around Tampa Bay. More than 80 people showed up to the first one, he said.
At the most recent event at Hawthorne in St. Petersburg, nine singles and one dog (for adoption, not dating) were pitched.
There was Madi, a 22-year-old vet tech with a truck and a Zach Bryan tattoo looking for a tall, adventurous man, preferably with a federal pension — a joke… sort of. There was Rachel, a photographer, seeking a partner to line dance with. Danny, a 25-year-old engineer under contract for a home in Largo, hoped to find a match who’d be willing to wakeboard on weekends.
Between each presentation, attendees exchanged war stories of the fruitless efforts that had landed them here.
“I’ve been on and off of the apps for the last decade, and you know what’s funny? You see the same people over and over again,” said Maria Rivero, who came to Hawthorne to pitch her friend Allison Aucar. “So four years later, it’s like ‘Oh, fancy meeting you again.’ You start to wonder if maybe you’re the problem.”
Rivero said she’s tried meeting people while out on the town, flashing eyes at strangers like a ’90s rom-com and making introductions. It’s been dead end after dead end.
“People don’t talk to one another anymore,” Rivero said. “You have to be brave and open, and that’s what I’m trying to do. But I guess I haven’t figured it out yet.”
Kathryn Coduto, an assistant professor of media science at Boston University, said that while dating apps have increased the possibility of connection, research has also found that they’ve exacerbated some social anxieties.
“Dating apps can help overcome some of that awkwardness that may come with approaching somebody in real life,” Coduto said. “But the tradeoff is that a lot of people aren’t finding what they want.”
And that, said Coduto, can increase feelings of loneliness and isolation, “like you’re not good enough.”
So much of our lives is conducted through screens, Coduto said. There’s an app, or several, for banking, for ordering food, for tracking exercise and doing work remotely.
“There’s dating app fatigue, but there’s also just general technology fatigue,” Coduto said. “So there’s this feeling of wanting to have more experiences beyond the 5-inch screen.”
Across the bar from Rivero, Austin Consigny waited to be pitched by his friend Robert Galiardo.
Consigny, 28, said he’s been on and off the apps since 2018.
“I’ve tried just about all of them,” Consigny said. “As a guy, it feels like speaking to an empty room.”
Consigny said he’s ready for something serious. He has a house, a stable job, a solid group of friends and community. But finding a partner has been difficult here, in part because of Tampa Bay’s transient population and the warped expectations that come from constant swiping.
“There’s this illusion that you have so many options,” said Consigny. “When really, out of 100 people, there’s maybe one that will go anywhere.”
Still, Consigny said he finds himself returning to the apps.
“There are times where I’ve deleted the apps and downloaded them again because I was bored,” Consigny said. “It’s almost compulsive, like doom scrolling on Instagram.”
Morgan Anderson, a clinical psychologist whose research focuses on love and attachment theory, said there’s a chemical reason why the apps have a grip on so many.
“A lot of us are lacking dopamine,” Anderson said. “Dating apps are a quick way to get a hit. It’s intermittent, unpredictable reinforcement, and that can be addicting.”
The disillusionment, she said, comes because of feelings of limited return on investment. When, after looking through hundreds of profiles, you still haven’t found something.
Jess Carbino, a relationship expert who used to work as a sociologist for Tinder and Bumble, said much of the frustration that people experience — at its core — is less about app fatigue and more about the exhaustion of dating, generally.
“Finding a romantic partner is inherently onerous and demoralizing,” Carbino said. “It is really hard to find somebody.”
But online dating, said Liz Price, a 28-year-old St. Petersburg resident who attended the Hawthorne Pitch-A-Friend, has exacerbated those feelings.
“The apps are a dark place. It’s rough out here if you’re single,” said Price, waiting with a gaggle of friends for her try at love.
Pitch-A-Friend was appealing because it was different, she said, and even if nothing came out of it, it was better than sitting at home swiping, she said.
Was she hopeful she’d find love, tonight?
She shrugged.
“I’m hopeful I’ll have a good time.”
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To pitch or be pitched:
Get notified about future events by visiting the Pitch-A-Friend Tampa Bay Website or following Pitch-A-Friend Tampa Bay on Instagram.
