But for most people, the desire to meet another vegan ran far deeper than wanting to avoid squabbles in the grocery aisle. Many felt more understood and respected by their partners, more ease around making big decisions (such as how to raise children), and a greater sense of play and satisfaction in the kitchen.
Veganism seems to deepen the connection between two partners—just like backing the same baseball team might. Joey Malicki, a 25-year-old radiation therapist, and Angela Yu, a 24-year-old research lab technician, met on the Vegan Dating Lounge Discord in the fall last year. Before they’d even met in person, the pair spent evenings falling asleep after long FaceTime calls—they’d talk about veganism, stories they’d read in the news, personal drama, and dreams for the future—only to wake up and keep chatting the next day. Malicki has since moved from Illinois to Seattle, Washington, to live with Yu. “Everything just flows and I feel fully seen, understood, and loved,” says Yu.
While some push back on the way veganism is likened to a religion, others say that there are notable parallels. Veganism as a worldview provides a moral framework, gives adherents a life purpose (sometimes through activism), and presents a pretty black-and-white view of right and wrong (you’re a compassionate person if you don’t eat animals, and you’re exploitative if you do). For Renuka Varigonda, a 34-year-old research scientist in Brooklyn who now uses Vegpal to find like-minded friends, dating her plant-based partner has been inspired a passionate set of values. “He’s helped me recognize the intersectionality of animal justice, environmental justice, human rights, and racial justice,” she tells me.
So many of the vegan couples I spoke to also mentioned how liberating it’s been to cook together—there’s no ideological battles going on in the kitchen when you broadly eat and grocery shop the same way. About a month ago, Pratt was grocery shopping with Stevenson. “I remember being like, ‘This is so cool. We have a trunk full of happy vegan food.’”
Yu loves cooking, but dating omnivores in the past made it harder for her to feel joy in the kitchen—especially with someone who may see vegan food options as “not tasty.” Making meals with Malicki, like chickpea pasta with vodka sauce, tofu scrambles, and “anything with potatoes,” has been “such a powerful experience.” For Varigonda, seeing meat reminds her of the animal that died for the meal. “It’s heavy enough for me to see friends eating animals at restaurants,” she says, “that I couldn’t imagine sitting on a day-to-day basis with a partner who does the same.”
Both Pratt and Stevenson had previously dated omnivores, and having to compromise on everything from fridge space to whether or not to raise their individual children vegan created tension in the relationships. “My ex could see that veganism was so meaningful to me and then they were on the other side contributing to the problem I was fighting against,” says Pratt. “It felt really icky inside.”
Logistically, veg-only dating apps make a lot of sense too. Because the vegan population is so tiny, finding a plant-based partner when you don’t live in a major city is near impossible. Luke Kirk, a 31-year-old insurance analyst from Omaha, Nebraska, is the only vegan he knows in his area. He’d resigned himself to being single or dating an omnivore until he met Keira Janzen, a 29-year-old kindergarten teacher from Regina, Canada, on the Vegan Dating Lounge Discord in October last year. They’re currently dating long distance and plan to live together soon.