A collage of a block of flats, with a phone in front of a dating app profile of a gr
Collage: Cath Virginia
Life

Flat Hunting Is Like Dating Now – But Even More Brutal

From ghosting to being actively rejected, the rental process right now will make you want to cry into a tub of ice cream, break-up stylie.

On a Sunday afternoon in April I had one of those encounters that just felt right – meant to be, even. I left with butterflies in my stomach, thinking, ‘This is how it’s supposed to feel!’ and even called my mum to tell her about it. As I lay in bed that night, my Sunday Scaries were eased by thoughts of the private jokes we’d surely share, the shows we’d binge watch together and all the little quirks I’d soon get to know and love. My mind had imagined a whole new future, and I liked it. 

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It all came crashing down the following evening, though, when I received a text saying, “It turns out the other girl was a better fit for us. So sorry that it didn't work out in the end. I hope it's not too annoying!!” It’s a unique kind of sting mourning the loss of a future that never was – a somewhat shameful heartache that feels invalid. I couldn’t bring myself to reply until the next day.

The interaction in question was with a group of potential flatmates whose four-bed house share I’d viewed. The location was good, there was an actual living room, the people seemed to genuinely like each other and the walls were only the tiniest bit damp. I may not have lost love, but I had lost a spare room, which arguably is worse in this economy. 

We often hear about the nightmares dating app users experience, like swipe fatigue, emotional burnout and catfishing, but the strikingly similar experiences of stress and rejection that’s become intrinsic with house hunting seems to be less recognised. From the painful vulnerability of having to relentlessly sell yourself to strangers, to being repeatedly and savagely ghosted, flat hunting might just be even more brutal than online dating. 

Private renters are twice as likely as homeowners to feel depressed, under strain and worthless, according to a study on rising anxiety in 2020s Britain, from the Joseph Rowntree Foundation.

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The road to finding a flat in the UK has become increasingly characterised by difficulties like limited choice, extortionate rents and fierce competition. According to data from Zoopla, the demand for properties is more than 50 percent above average, while the total supply has fallen by 38 percent over the past 18 months. This has led to the 20 percent increase in rent we’ve seen across the UK over the last year, and the 10 percent rise in average room rents in the first quarter of 2023. 

Naturally, this has put a tonne of pressure on flat hunters who’re left physically and emotionally exhausted from the constant let downs.

Frances, a 25-year-old NHS project manager, has been looking for a room in east London for nearly two months. She messages around ten people a day, mostly on SpareRoom or Facebook housing groups, and has found the process “overwhelming” and “intense”. (Like the other flat hunters in this article, she asked for her name to be changed for privacy reasons.) “I put feelers out there every day and only hear back from one or maybe none,” says Frances.

So far, she’s been the unfortunate victim of ghosting not once, but three times, after attending viewings she thought were successful. “Obviously, you can’t help but take it personally,” Frances continues. “It makes you realise you clearly weren’t what they were looking for, or maybe you weren’t good enough for them.” The outright lack of response can be a big blow to self-esteem, and is a breeding ground for self-doubt. “You replay the interaction and second guess everything that you’ve done,” she says. “What was I missing? Did I not do enough of this or that? Should I have been more, I don't know, enthusiastic?”

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According to data from Spare Room, there were 133,098 more users looking for rooms than there were rooms advertised, last month alone. Global Communications Director Matt Huchinson believes the impact goes far beyond the figures, too.

“We know from our surveys that people are turning down job offers, not applying to jobs and just putting plans on pause because they don't want to have to deal with the rental market as it is now,” Hutchinson tells VICE. “So there are already some hidden consequences.” He even expects housing to be one of the top issues for the next election: “At the moment, it's hard to see who the market’s working for.”

The application process (or should I say, hardcore vetting) has become next level extreme, as room advertisers are inundated with messages from wannabe tenants. It’s now common for applicants to be asked to write essays about themselves and why they want the room, to prove themselves in short interviews before even being allowed to see the place, or to meet the current flatmates at the pub for a vibe-check.

When Ines, 25, and her flatmate advertised their spare north London room on a women-only Facebook group, they got more than 30 considered responses within a few days.

“Girls often send two screenshots worth of a message on Facebook messenger and will try to cover all the bases to appear as likeable as possible,” says Ines. “It's really tricky because everyone’s answers are generally super bland – they don't want to say anything controversial. So many people say, ‘Oh I really love going out, but I love a night in as well.’”

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After an “initial culling” of applicants, 20 lucky ladies were selected to move onto the next stage. From there, things got more pragmatic. “We popped all the names of these girls, their ages, their jobs and their current situation into an Excel spreadsheet,” Ines tells VICE. “The main thing you want to know is why they need the room – you can gage quite a lot from someone’s response to that.” 

Next, they selected eight people for an interview via WhatsApp call. As for how they narrowed them down: “It sounds really brutal, but it's just like looking at their Facebook page and thinking, ‘Are they the right fit? Are they the right aesthetic?’ I hate to say it but that does come into account.” 

Ines admits the dynamic during the calls was “super weird”, she could sense the power imbalance and tell some of the girls were quite nervous. And is it any wonder? Even a romantic date seems more forgiving – at least you can at least settle in over a drink or two, instead of the 15 minutes you’re allocated to wow the judges in a housemate interview. 

As for the profile you need to secure an interview at all – you remember how long it took to perfect your Hinge one, right? How many iterations there were and how many friends ended up consulting on them? Well, the Spare Room app looks exactly the same, but it requires a whole new headspace. You’re asked about your interests, preferences, and forced to rethink your whole photo strategy (no thirst traps here). Then there’s the silly little captions that you hope make you seem relatable but not basic, fun but chilled, pretty but not threatening – oh, and somehow tidy. 

Unlike on a dating app, though, you don’t get the privilege of choosing who you match with, which inevitably means strange men will be in touch. Frances has received many flirty messages from people trying to ask her on a date. Then there was the time a “creepy looking 50-year-old” man offered her a room at a discounted price “just for her”, which felt just a little seedy.

But all is not lost. There are some stories of success amid the chaos – albeit unexpected ones. Frances is going for a friend meet-up next week with a fellow flat hunter who messaged her on the app, and she’s not the only one. “I know so many other friends who’ve found friends through Spare Room, weirdly,” she adds. It might not solve your housing crisis, but at least you can weather the storm together – after all, misery loves company.