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Why Are People Still Asking for Snapchats?

Updated: a few seconds ago

POV: You’re out at the bar with your best friends, chatting with a potential suitor. The conversation is going well—until they ask for your Snapchat, and suddenly, your demeanor shifts.


Getty Images ©
Getty Images ©

Founded in 2011 and breaking out in 2013, Snapchat quickly became the centerpiece of digital connection and a cultural force, even among celebrities with its now-infamous “stories.” What set the app apart was its innovation: the ability to send fleeting photos and videos back and forth between friends. For Gen Z, many of whom were in middle school during its rise—this feature became an integral part of how relationships were built and maintained.


But how is Snapchat holding up in 2025? According to Data Portal and Podbase, the platform still boasts over 106 million users, with 35.9% of the eligible U.S. audience (ages 13 and up) active on Snapchat as of early 2025. Walk into any college bar, and chances are you’ll overhear someone asking, “What’s your Snap?” Yet, the cultural weight isn’t what it once was. In 2014, Snapchat was seen as the holy grail of building relationships; today, it’s often regarded as blatantly unserious.


To better understand this cultural shift, I collected data by asking my peers: would you rather be asked for your Snapchat or your phone number? A striking 92% of respondents said they’d prefer being asked for their phone number, while only 8% chose Snapchat. The overwhelming reason: Snapchat feels unserious. One person explained, “Snapchat feels very juvenile, like you’re not taking me seriously.”


Another added, “Giving your phone number is very adult, it signals intentional conversation.” This sentiment reflects Snapchat’s foundation as an app built around sending quick, fleeting photos, a format that thrived when Gen Z was in middle school (dog filters and all). But now, as this generation grows up, many are looking for something deeper in relationships. Phone numbers feel tied to real conversations, while Snapchat interactions often fizzle out, leading nowhere.


Another overwhelming response was that Snapchat feels sneaky and tied to hookup culture. For many, the app’s design echoes casual, non-committal interactions: it’s notorious for scandals involving sexting, the 2 a.m. “you up?” messages, and its built-in secrecy features, like auto-deleting chats after viewing or within 24 hours. These qualities make it the perfect tool for keeping things hidden — but also the perfect red flag for someone seeking a genuine connection. One response summed it up: “Snapchat feels immature and like hookup vibes.” Another echoed, “It shows they’re not serious about getting to know you. And if they are, they’re just too young in general. Snap is more designed for hookup culture anyway..."  


However, despite the criticism of Snapchat as lacking genuine connection, 8% of respondents said they preferred Snap or other social platforms because of the comfort of safety. As one person explained, “Snapchat just feels safer originally — once we grow closer, then phone number.” And that perspective makes sense: you can’t give everyone your number right away. For women in particular, safety is a real concern — the CDC reports that 1 in 3 women in the U.S. have experienced stalking in their lifetime. In this context, Snapchat becomes a buffer: while it may conflict with genuine intentions, at its core it allows people to protect themselves while still exploring new connections.


At the core of this research, one truth stands out: Gen Z is seeking more intentional relationships. They want connections that feel sustainable and worthwhile—conversations that spark new beginnings, not fleeting interactions that feel like wasted time. Effort matters, and no matter the platform, they’re also intentional about protecting themselves. But above all, Gen Z is growing up. The foundations that once defined their social lives are now in the rearview mirror, fading like countless cultural phases before them. Which leaves the pressing question: when Gen Z finally moves on, what becomes of the platforms that once defined an era?


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