When Erick Hall heard that Goose, a new “anti-algorithm” dating app, was less focused on hookups, he was drawn to its mission.
The New York City–based OnlyFans creator, who has over 800,000 followers on X, explains he has to hook up “all the time” for work. Because Goose was marketing itself as an alternative to that, he was curious what it had to offer.
During the sign-up process he chose a few selfies where he was fully clothed; in one, wearing a black shirt, a baseball cap, and blue jeans, he pulled his shirt upward showing off his abs. While his X bio says “I Have a 9 Inch Dick and a Bubble Butt,” he didn’t mention anything about being an adult performer on his Goose page. But when he logged back in to see if he’d been approved he was greeted with a message instructing him to upload new photos and check out the community guidelines. His account had been flagged as inappropriate.
“Nudity, pornography, and sexually suggestive vulgar content are not allowed on Goose. Never engage in commercial transactions involving sexual activity or services,” the message read.
In July, WIRED exposed a large-scale network of what appeared to be AI Instagram accounts that Goose cofounder David Aliagas seemingly commissioned to attract new users to the platform. But beyond the veil of shady marketing, questions lingered: Are people actually flocking to Goose, and how is its more friendship-oriented marketing spin playing out?
The users WIRED spoke to describe the platform as seemingly focused on establishing genuine relationships outside of sex while still making it easy to have casual sex. But they also say the app suffers from flawed moderation and doesn’t always feel welcoming to people of color.
As with Raya, Goose operates as a kind of invite-only members club. Users can access the app with an invite code or apply to join. (My approval took less than two hours.) Nearly all of Goose’s features are available on other platforms. Users can send waves and up to seven direct messages per day. Its live map, which tells you where other users are located, is reminiscent of Sniffies and, similar to Facebook, it lets users “check in” to different neighborhoods. Disappearing chats echo Snapchat. User profiles, where photos flicker by on a timed loop, function like Instagram Stories. There’s also screenshot protection, akin to Raya’s rule that prevents people from saving your pictures.
As some people in the LGBTQIA+ community have pointed out online, many of these features appear to be hookup-oriented. “Why do you need those two things if you are not sending a certain type of photo?” one user asked on TikTok about vanish mode and screenshot protection. Added another on X: “So are we sucking dick on the Goose app or are we not???”
Hunter Lawrence, who was exhausted from the churn of transactional interactions on other dating apps, was also wooed by Goose’s focus on friendship over hookups. But not long after he joined, things got a little X-rated. He says he asked one guy, “‘How are you?’ And he was like, ‘Being totally honest, playing with my morning wood,’” Lawrence says, breaking into laughter over the phone. “Guys will be gay guys.” The chat ended after that exchange, but the 31-year-old Austin, Texas, hairstylist, who has been a frequent user since Goose launched last month, says most of his conversations have remained PG.
Lawrence sees Goose as angling to be an all-use social media app. “No one’s reinventing the wheel here,” he says.