I’m lying in a tiny twin bed in a shared apartment with seven strangers – all of us single and looking for love.
One has the flu, another a kidney infection. One of the other girls has thrown up following a big night out, while one of the men has creepily just told me, while in the sauna, he’s ‘into Asian girls’.
It’s already obvious I’m not going to meet the love of my life here.
I’m in the Tignes resort in the French Alps for a week-long, singles-only ski trip run by dating company Thursday.
It’s £859 for one of the cheapest packages, including shared accommodation, après-ski, and organised dating events – alongside 1,000 other singletons.
As dating app fatigue grows amongst Gen Z and millennials, companies have expanded into ‘offline dating’ experiences, including travel.
I’d felt it too – after a two-year break, I returned to the dating apps only to find conversations exhausting to maintain or overtly sexual.
I suspected this holiday might feel like university all over again: a week-long dating environment where I could binge-meet other singles – but also get some après-ski in, and a vacation in the Alps. So, potentially highly efficient.
Kacie headed to the French Alps on a singles trip, hoping to find love
Located in Tignes, the aim of this Thursdays event was simple: ski, enjoy après and mingle with others looking for love
The official programming follows a similar daily schedule: morning ‘Meet and Mingles’, skiing, après, and the occasional dating mixer at night.
You pay extra for add-on events – I book three, including a group dinner, snowtubing and a sober spa party. Once you pay for the trip, you join a series of WhatsApp groups where attendees arrange their own side plans.
Official events are spread across a few walkable villages in Tignes, linked by free shuttles.
I’m staying in Val Claret – one of the livelier areas, home to outdoor après bar Cocorico and the site of the first night’s welcome party.
I arrive in Tignes to a traditional-style shared apartment in L’Ecrin Des Neiges, which has six girls sharing one bathroom, with one in an en-suite.
My new roommate, *Tessa has the flu and assures me she’ll sleep facing away from me. Not ideal, but we get along well.
Even at the Welcome Party, where I first meet some of the eligible bachelors on offer, the trip isn’t off to a promising start – over-capacity, men forcibly hugging me, someone petting my hair, men decades my senior hitting on me…
But that’s par for the course for dating events I’ve been to in London.
After the chaos of the first night, a welcome reset comes from partying alongside Queer Ski Week attendees at Cocorico, albeit a very temporary one.
The second night’s mixer is packed to the point of immobility – so dense that, stuck sitting on a high chair, you can feel men walking past you. It’s a ‘Matchbox Party’, where you’re paired with someone in the room using AI.
Official events include an array of parties where singles can meet each other
Kacie made lots of friends on the trip, and enjoyed activities such as snowtubing
The event feels like a step up from the night before, but overcrowding makes mingling difficult and forces many to be turned away. My match: no spark, though he is perfectly nice.
The add-on dinners put on by Thursday aren’t faring better. After the first night reportedly skewed heavily male, many of the men stop showing up from then on – the dinner I attend has around eight women to just two men. One of them introduces himself, then stays silent for the rest of the meal.
It doesn’t take long to realise that the official programming isn’t where the best romantic (even platonic) connections are going to happen – apart from a wholesome snowtubing event where I meet some girls and two British guys *Max and *Luke.
There are a few distinct camps on this trip: those who come primarily to ski with a built-in community, open to dating but without high expectations; those looking for something short and casual; those who treat the trip as a major investment – already slipping into WhatsApp drama before the trip has even started; and those who booked it to make their ‘situationships’ back home jealous – one girl shows me the photos she plans to post.
According to two girls I meet at a chalet party, more than 25 per cent of attendees are returning from the previous year.
The crowd is predominantly heterosexual and smaller than advertised, with many noting they keep running into the same faces.
Originally marketed as 1,000 attendees, WhatsApp chatter suggests closer to 500, with the official Thursday account stating around 700.
The sober spa party is another standout event organised by Thursday
The saunas provide more occasions for singles to meet – although Kacie finds unpleasant experiences and interactions there during her visit
Later in the week, the sober spa party day takes place at Le Lagoon, an aquatic centre in Le Lac.
Though I had been warned by locals to avoid the venue, I’m looking forward to an event where drinks aren’t on hand – and I’m right: the men are acting noticeably more ‘normal’.
Max – five years older than me and not my type – joins me in one of the saunas and starts talking about preferences. ‘I don’t want to give the game away,’ he tells me. ‘I’m into Asian girls.’ I’m Asian.
Uncomfortable by his seeming fetish, I turn my attention immediately to a guy who looks my age nearby.
Max takes the cue and peels off, leaving me to continue the circuit – this time with someone new. I later find out, to my horror, that he is seven years younger than me.
I’m very glad when the trip comes to a close. For me, there isn’t much left beyond the après.
Still, I see a handful of short-term ‘vacation flings’ materialise, mostly among the late 30s and 40s crowd, who seem to fare best.
The men I spoke to said they’d had a great time on both the skiing and dating front. The women’s experiences were far more mixed.
While the food is excellent, prices are extremely high in the charming Tignes resort
For our final supper, Tessa and I, along with three guys – including *Oliver, whom I’d met earlier in the trip – head to a barbecue spot.
A man who isn’t part of our table lingers for over 45 minutes, dishevelled and not smelling great, repeatedly trying to engage with our group.
As the conversation drags on, Oliver, sitting across from me, suddenly spits mid-sentence – directly in my eye, so visibly that the table falls silent. ‘That was intimate’ is all I can mutter.
As a holiday destination, Tignes is charming, though the dining prices are staggering – think €23 (£19.85) for iceberg lettuce and tortilla chips.
The après is genuinely fun – especially La Folie Douce, Le Bollin – but I don’t leave with a new romantic interest.
Instead, I come away with a cough, a mild case of hot tub folliculitis from Le Lagoon, and no romantic prospects – just a clearer sense of what I’m not looking for.
*Names have been changed.
