The digital world offers countless solutions to life’s endless problems, but can it also help cure a shabby social life, one of the very problems it stands accused of creating?
Finding your algorithmically-assigned group at a PLY (People Like You) meetup can feel more awkward than finding a canteen table on the first day of school. At a film night to watch The Devil Wears Prada 2, which cost £10 for a cinema ticket on top of the £20 monthly PLY subscription, conversations bounced between “my mum suggested I come to try and make friends”, “I celebrated my 40th birthday with PLY” and “oh, I’m just here for uni”. After the movie, the chat turned somewhat more natural as people discussed the use of cerulean blue in the first film versus the second and the suspicious lack of wrinkles on some actors’ foreheads. Still, an air of discomfort hung heavy. While some attendees seemed to get along swimmingly, others may have left wondering: What did the algorithm think I have in common with the people I was sat with?
According to the World Health Organization, one in six people worldwide are affected by the loneliness epidemic. In light of this, apps like Bumble BFF, Timeleft and PLY are using algorithms and strategies once reserved for dating to help people find friendship. Bumble BFF offers a free tier that matches individuals one-on-one, but the model is otherwise similar across most platforms: you take an online quiz, pay a fee and are matched with an activity group . While apps like PLY are relatively local, operating across 12 cities in the UK, others like Timeleft operate across 275 cities in 60 countries, with over three million users.
“It’s very difficult to meet people and make friends in London”
PLY founder Karen Harris says they “look at personality, life stage and energy so the group genuinely clicks, rather than just filling seats. We have an initial algorithm that sorts people into draft groups based on their personality quiz results, and then we manually adjust if need be”.
It’s worked for some. Arron Smith, who is from Lancashire and has worked in London for ten years, credits PLY with improving his social life over the past few months. “It’s very difficult to meet people and make friends in London; this has really helped me to meet people and start building connections, because it’s really not easy in this city.” Though he initially felt odd about being matched by an algorithm, he gets along with his groups and finds PLY’s approach “very human”, as the staff checks in on attendees and actively encourages people to keep coming back.
University student Ara Kim, 21, came to these apps for the same reasons but found herself disappointed by her experience and the price tag attached. After trying out Timeleft in 2025, she didn’t form any lasting friendships. At the time, entry for an algorithmically-curated group dinner costs £8.62, and the meal wasn’t included. On one occasion, despite indicating on a quiz that she dislikes bad political jokes, she found herself seated with people whose views were far removed from her own. “Cool concept,” she says, “but it was really bad.”
She ditched the apps and turned towards hobby-based groups and spaces, such as Art Assassins, South London Gallery’s free collective for those aged 16-21. In her experience, apps like Timeleft are “very shallow” in comparison. “The options available are not as nuanced as meeting someone through the spaces and activities you choose,” she says. For her, community spaces, shared interests and collective action do that more effectively, and without the high price tag. “There’s only so much technology can do. Maybe it can facilitate third spaces, but it cannot replace them.”
Those same concerns have been playing out in the dating market. James Ormerod is head of London events at Thursday, a dating events brand operating in nearly 200 cities worldwide. Two years ago, the company scrapped its app entirely. “We could see the shift in public attitudes towards dating apps, people wanting to go back to basics and meet in person and make real connections,” Ormerod explains.
The new structure is simple: hosting events where everyone is single and open to dating, removing the awkwardness of approaching others without imposing a rigid structure or assigning pairs – no algorithm necessary. “It’s an open environment,” he says. “You speak to whoever you want, and you make of the night what you make of it.”
Thursday does offer one AI matchmaking event, where attendees complete a questionnaire upon arrival and are algorithmically paired with someone in the room by the end of the night. Ormerod explains this is an activity to break the ice, not the main event. “If the match works, great. If not, there are still 200 other people in the room.”
Dr Fred Cooper, who researches the evolution of loneliness at the University of Bristol, explains that while technology may not be able to solve loneliness for everyone, it can be “good when used to augment their physicalised social lives”. Echoing Ormerod’s observation about ice breakers, Dr Cooper points out that “even if the algorithm gets everything wrong, you’re still in a place with people[…] It’s about breaking that initial reluctance to socialise”.
Back at the PLY film night, people drift towards the exit as popcorn is swept up. A few exchange details. Most do not, but they had shown up, which is perhaps the point. If you’re bold enough to approach people at the cinema, in a gallery or on the underground, maybe sitting with an assigned group will not feel as exciting. But for those who find those first steps harder, an algorithm might at least open the door to human connection.
