There was a period in the 2010s when personality quizzes were inescapable. Like One Direction’s boppy tunes, their presence was widespread. Myers-Briggs Type Indicator’s 16 personalities, Buzzfeed’s endless Disney character quizzes, and the re-emergence of love languages allowed us to neatly label our dispositions with catchy names.

As a casual fan of astrology, I’m part of the target demographic for these hyper-specific and self-reflective types of categorizations. ENFJ, Beauty and the Beast’s Belle, and quality time became shorthand for my personality traits.

It’s why I instantly jumped on the personality test that captured the attention of over 200,000 people in its first month. Loveprint is a love personality test that assigns recipients one of 16 four-letter scores and color hues that encompass their communication style, partnership style, intimacy style, and vulnerability style.

“Assessments can help us get a better understanding of ourselves and how we show up in relationships,” Marisa T. Cohen, a relationship scientist who partnered with Jubilee to create Loveprint, tells Refinery29. “Loveprint is built to mirror back information about our personality, perceptions [and] behaviors… which we may or may not be cognizant of.”

Research suggests that millennials and Gen Z are the loneliest generations, with Jubilee CEO Jason Y. Lee telling Refinery29 that it’s one of the biggest problems facing young people today. “That’s why we decided to build Loveprint — to create an entry point for people to go deeper and uncover parts of themselves that they may not even be aware of, as well as to open up conversations within existing relationships that could help make them stronger and more empathetic,” he says.

Curiosity about our internal workings and that of our potential (or existing) romantic partner is natural. Whether someone is trying to seek out their preferred match before they hit the apps or wants to deepen their current partnership, using a third-party adjudicator can be a helpful tool.

Loveprint is under Nectar, Jubilee’s love and relationship-centered brand. The content arm is heavily Gen Z-inspired — lowercase text, internet lingo, goofy memes, a we’re not really strangers-type aesthetic. The test itself asks viewers to rate how much they agree with the statements shown on screen. Scenarios like, “It is important for partners to be comfortable with one another before sharing topics that may be difficult to talk about” and “Engaging in activities is more fun if shared with a partner” are appraised on a scale ranging from strongly disagree to strongly agree.

It’s a straightforward test — one that those with a history of taking personality quizzes will be very familiar with. Afterward, users are given a slick and sharable card (that’s coincidentally the same dimensions as an Instagram Story) breaking down their Loveprint score, motto, and colorway.

My Loveprint turned out to be RIEO, meaning I have a reflective communication style (as opposed to active), I’m an “I” person in a partnership (not a “we” person), I’m more emotional than physical when it comes to intimacy communication, and that my vulnerability style is more open, as opposed to guarded.

The findings weren’t revolutionary but did still surprise me. I got my partner of seven years to fill out the same test and he came out with an AWPO score. Frantically comparing our letters, I was worried about the fact that we had different relationship styles for 75% of Loveprint’s assessments.

“If you and your partner have different Loveprints, that’s not a bad sign. In fact, it’s a great opportunity to open up a conversation about what that means and how the label you are assigned for each category shows up within your relationship,” Cohen says. “[This] may even pave the way for getting a better understanding of what each of you needs from your partner to feel the most cared for and fulfilled.”

“You don’t want to fall into the trap of using a score to determine who you should be with or allow it to define you. Reducing us to a static number would not adequately represent us or our relationships.”

To date, Loveprint shares that the most common scores are RIEG (11.5%), RWEG (10.7%), AWPO (10.4%), and RIPG (10.3%).

Cohen states that Loveprint scores can change over time and that it’s healthy and likely. “You don’t want to fall into the trap of using a score to determine who you should be with or allow it to define you. Reducing us to a static number would not adequately represent us or our relationships.”

Over on Nectar’s Instagram, commenters are proudly proclaiming, “RIPG really hits,” “I’m RIEO!!!!” and “Did mine and I was like, DAMNN,” finding solace in their given labels. Feeling seen and receiving validation from algorithmic formulas can be soothing and empowering for individuals. They can be a way of feeling affirmed, offering physical proof of why you are the way you are.

But in the hubbub of enneagrams and zodiac charts, is there a point where this tips over? Where our obsession with diagnosing ourselves with man-made labels turns into a disservice?

In an episode of her podcast High Low With EmRata, Emily Ratajkowski dives into this conundrum. “What I don’t love about astrology, attachment styles, and love languages, and anything that breaks people down into categories and says there are three types of people or there are 12 types of people or whatever, is that it’s oversimplifying things,” she says. “Can we trust things that categorize and oversimplify human beings so much? I think we need to be a little bit more skeptical about that.”

I know I won’t stop being interested in personality tests any time soon. If they’re treated for what they are — a flawed, data-driven means of untangling the intangible rather than perfect and complete measures of ourselves — they’re fun, insightful, and can be helpful. I’ll continue to hold onto the fact that AI and digital processes won’t ever be able to comprehend the messiness and magic of what makes us, us.