Another idea is to have Bumble refresh its narrative to support women's desires and to help diverse dating roles be more readily accepted by men.
The app could add a forum where users can share their various Bumble experiences in ways that encourage safe, engaged dating-related communication.
When love, lust and all things in between come calling, dating apps appear to be the only way to meet new people and experience romance in 2019.
They're not of course, but social media and popular culture inundate us with messages about the importance of these seemingly easy and effective approaches to digital dating.
Like the female worker bee, women do all the work on Bumble. Putting myself out there repeatedly made me feel vulnerable, not empowered.
Courtesy of Bumble In my five months on Bumble, I created 113 unique opening lines, each of which involved not just work but also a leap of faith. Sure, there was some short-lived excitement, but much of my time was spent wondering if they would respond.
It ignores men's feelings about adopting a more passive dating role. I learned the hard way that despite our feminist advances, many men are still not comfortable waiting to be asked out.
This was confirmed by several of my matches, who discussed women's acquisition of socio-economic and sexual power as a problem.
Or, the guy who talked obsessively about being 5'6" (167cm) but really, really wasn't.
However, when other options were exhausted, I found myself selecting photos and summarising myself in a user profile.
I chose Bumble because it was rumoured to have more professional men than other apps and I was intrigued by its signature design where women ask men out.
Self described as "100 per cent feminist", Bumble's unique approach has generated significant social buzz and it has more than 50 million users.
As a medical anthropologist, I explore sexuality, gender and health experiences among people in sex work, Indigenous communities and those affected by HIV/AIDS.