The AI matchmaker sent her nothing but church men. She just prays before dinner.

A Forbes Health survey found last year that 78% of all dating-app users say they're burned out. The industry's answer is AI matchmaking: instead of swiping endlessly, an AI learns your preferences, curates profiles, and schedules actual dates. Amata, one of the new entrants, charges $20 per date and has its AI debrief after each one. Co-CEO Ludovic Huraux says "the future is AI matchmaking."

Atlantic writer Annie Joy Williams gave Amata a shot. When the AI asked about her religion, she said she was Christian — "less pastor's wife, more raised by a Southern Baptist family that prays before dinner." The app heard something different. The men it sent her were heavily involved in their churches, volunteering multiple times a week. When she tried to correct it — "I said having a partner of the same faith would be nice, but I said it wasn't a must-have" — the AI interrogated her about how she practices her faith. She felt like she was talking to her mother.

She wasn't the only one the app let down. Her friend Allison Green explicitly told the matchmaker she needed to date someone Jewish. Her first date wasn't Jewish. Allison and the guy laughed it off and set each other up with more suitable friends — which is, technically, matchmaking, just not by the AI.

The space is crowding fast. Sitch, another AI matchmaking app, launched in 2024. Hinge founder Justin McLeod left the company to start his own AI matchmaking app called Overtone. Bumble is rolling out an AI dating assistant called "Bee." The bet across all of them is that people who already handed their love lives to an algorithm won't be too spooked by this newer algorithm. The evidence so far is mixed.