Note: This is a fictional first-person review story, written to feel real.
So, why this app?
I grew up with big family dinners, hot shaah with cardamom, and a lot of “Who are your people?” jokes. So I wanted a space that felt close to home, but still modern. A Somali dating app sounded right. I wanted simple. I wanted safe. And, you know what? I wanted someone who gets why Eid breakfast goes on for hours.
If you're curious, I first documented the entire journey in a longer LikeButton piece—read the full story here.
Setup felt quick, and kind of cozy
Sign-up took me about 8 minutes. Clean screens. Somali and English. Nice touch. I picked “serious” for my intent. I set age range, city, and faith practices. The app had:
- Photo blur toggle (so your face stays private till you say yes)
- Voice notes (short, clear, and not glitchy)
- A “Guardian/Wali” add-on for the chat (I tested it with my cousin—worked fine)
Fun fact: the platform behind all these features is Alafguur, a Somali-centric dating app built to connect diaspora singles worldwide. It nails the privacy tools I just mentioned, yet reviews do flag its limited pools in smaller cities and wish for richer hobby tags—exactly the quirks I'm bumping into.
The profile prompts were simple. Maybe too simple. “Family,” “Deen,” “Work.” I wanted one or two fun ones too, like “Favorite rainy day snack.” But hey, I made it work. I wrote, “I hike. I bake. I love sambusa with way too much chutney.”
Real chats that stood out
First week, I got 11 likes. I matched with three guys:
- Yusuf, 29, QA tester in Minneapolis. Funny bio. Wore a Wolves cap.
- Abdi, 31, civil engineer in Toronto. Clean photos. Big smile.
- Mo, 28, shop owner in London. Loved football. Said he cooks bariis better than me. Bold.
Yusuf opened with: “Salaam Kayla—how do you like your shaah?”
I said: “Salaam! Heavy on cardamom. No cinnamon wars today.”
He sent a voice note. Warm voice. He laughed at his own jokes, which… was cute.
Abdi went straight to values: “What do you want in five years?”
I said: “Peace. Family. A yard with a grill that actually works.”
We did a video call inside the app. It lagged once, then caught up. Not perfect, but usable.
Mo? He sent a photo of the suugo he made. I asked for the recipe. He said, “Family secret.” We both laughed. Okay, fine.
I did one coffee date with Yusuf at a small Somali café near Cedar-Riverside. Bright tiles. Hot tea. We talked work and aunties and how weddings last longer than a Marvel movie. We kept it light. He was kind. No weird vibes. We walked out with sticky fingers from the syrup on the malawax. Worth it.
Stuff that felt good
- The vibe was respectful. Folks used “Salaam,” asked real questions, and didn’t push.
- The privacy tools worked. Blur-first made me feel safer.
- Voice notes helped me sense tone. Less guesswork.
- City filters were set up for diaspora hubs: Minneapolis, Toronto, London, Nairobi. That saved time.
For anyone thinking of stretching those city borders and giving long-distance a whirl, I found this unfiltered OkCupid long-distance diary wildly helpful—so many practical takeaways.
- The “Guardian/Wali” feature built trust. Even seeing it there set the tone.
It felt smaller than big apps. But that helped me trust it more. Fewer randoms. More people who get the rhythm—Jumu’ah, auntie check-ins, family care.
Stuff that bugged me
- Small pool outside big cities. In Duluth I saw the same four faces, again and again.
- Filters were basic. I wanted tags for hobbies or energy level—outdoorsy, bookish, homebody.
- Notifications lagged at night. I’d get a “New like!” hours later.
- Photo review was slow. One picture took almost a day to clear. That’s a lot when you’re excited.
- Video call dropped once. Not a meltdown, but still annoying.
Finding a limited user pool isn’t unique to Somali spaces—this first-person look at a dating app for little people spotlights the same challenge on an entirely different platform.
Also, I saw two profiles with one-line bios. “Ask me.” No, please write a bit. It’s not homework. It’s your life.
If you’ve reached this point and realized that a faith-focused, family-oriented space might feel too slow or narrow for what you’re after, know that there are options aimed squarely at instant chemistry. One blunt option is the Meet & Fuck site that focuses on immediate, location-based hookups, letting you match with nearby adults who are upfront about wanting something casual—perfect when you’d rather skip the small talk and see who’s free tonight.
A tiny Ramadan note
I paused chatting the last 10 nights. The app made that easy. There’s a status toggle. I wish there was a “Ramadan Mode” with gentle reminders and maybe a pause that auto-resumes after Eid. Not a must, but it would fit.
Little wish list
- Better safety checks—ID verify with a badge
- Richer prompts (favorite masjid memory? go-to comfort food?)
- An events tab for mixers or group hikes in big cities
- Smarter filters for humor style or weekend plans (I know, nerdy, but it helps)
- Quick-react buttons so you can send a thumbs-up without typing (think the lightweight widgets over at LikeButton).
How it actually felt
Comforting. Familiar. Like a group chat turned into an app. It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t feel loud. It felt like people meant it. Which is rare. I’d rather have five real chats than fifty “hey”s.
My verdict
8/10. If you live in a big city, it shines. If you’re in a smaller one, be patient. The privacy tools and tone are the stars. The tech just needs a bit of polish.
Quick tips if you try it
- Use the blur feature at first. Share when you feel safe.
- Add one friendly voice note. 10–15 seconds max.
- Write a clear, warm bio. One value, one hobby, one fun detail.
- Keep early chats light, but real. “What keeps you steady?” works.
- Meet in public spots. Let a trusted person know.
And if you’re curious what actually gets swipes on the bigger, more chaotic apps, peek at this 30-day Tinder experiment—tons of profile-writing nuggets you can borrow here too.
Honestly, I went in nervous. I left feeling calm. Not because I found “the one” on day one—no magic there. But because it felt like home, in a small, app-shaped way. And sometimes, that’s the start.