The Great Offline Dating Experiment: The Beginning
Welcome to the lab.
Hypothesis:
Dating is one big social experiment
Background:
I’m not cut out for this. The dating apps, I mean, not Substack, although that remains to be seen. I know it’s popular to be a naysayer of dating app culture these days, but I’ve been an unwilling participant since day one. Even before the apps were invented, I struggled with the direct messages and loose definitions of twenty-first century dating. I’m not sure I would have fared well in the twentieth century dating pool, either – I’m too verbose to fit into a classified ad and waiting by the phone has never been my forte. I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that I would have thrived in the Victorian era: good, old-fashioned courtship with calling cards and chaperones.
I didn’t like myself on the dating apps. I didn’t like the judgements I was making as I swiped: did he go to an ivy? Is his hometown like mine? Is he making money yet? I didn’t like the way I tempered my banter in the chat, too scared to risk a joke that wouldn’t land. And I didn’t like the cookie-cutter conversations I had on dates. Do you have siblings? How many? Where’d you grow up? (I already know that one, but for the sake of conversation). I felt like I’d been infected by the algorithm, programmed to search for homogeneity. How was I ever going to find someone to like me when all I was capable of giving them was this flattened version of myself?
So, I decided to give up the apps, which also meant giving up the ease and instant gratification that I’d taken for granted in my dating life. I was in my senior year of college when Tinder came to my campus. I was twenty-two when I downloaded Hinge. And I was thirty when Bumble released their ad – “a vow of celibacy is not the answer” – after which I immediately deleted my accounts with the companies that own Hinge, Bumble, and Tinder. I figured if a female-founded dating app didn’t have my back, then the others didn’t either. And I know I’m not the only one who’s favoring offline dating over online.
The term “dating app fatigue” is increasingly used in mainstream media today. Forbes published a survey this summer that reported that 80% of women feel dating app fatigue, as do 74% of men. The top three reasons for the fatigue were: failure to connect, being disappointed, and being rejected. The subreddit r/onlinedating is an endless stream of tales that fit these three themes to a T. And then, of course, there’s my personal favorite: the Valentine’s Day lawsuit filed against Match Group, the parent company of Tinder, Hinge, Match.com, and The League (does anyone still use The League, out of curiosity?). The case claimed that the apps preyed on users by creating an addictive system that delivered diminishing returns in exchange for increased fees.
But interestingly, the subscriber numbers aren’t reflecting the same disaster story. True, there are reports of a 9% user decline on Tinder over the last year, and Bumble reduced their growth expectations for the year from 8-11% to 1-2%. But while these declines have had significant business implications – Bumble laid off 350 employees, or 37% of their workforce, earlier this year – to me they don’t feel reflective of a significant majority of your user base reporting they’re tired of your product. Hinge even reported a 31% increase in users year-over-year amidst all of this turmoil. It seems that while we may not like the dating apps, we're not sure what to do without them anymore. In the end, the apps have only exacerbated the problem that they set out to solve.
Method:
My parents tell me that my generation has it easier, that we’re lucky to have the assistance of dating apps. My mom, in particular, used to speak about the apps like this little utopia in the palm of your hand. Finally, one night over dinner I opened Hinge and handed her my phone. She made quick work of swiping left on every single man who appeared on the screen, proclaiming “oh, no!” over and over again…and this was a few years ago, back when the matches were still decent. I think now that The New York Times is writing about how awful the apps are, my parents are starting to believe me.
I’ve been trying to relearn how to meet people in the real world for three years now. I often feel like I’m reinventing a wheel that our parents were already familiar with, and the smallest goals that I set myself (give a guy your number) feel herculean. Anytime I meet someone a generation or two above me, I love to ask them how they met their significant other. “A friend gave him my number” / “we met at a party” / “we rode the elevator together at work.” They say it so nonchalantly, not realizing how enchanting it sounds to someone taught to talk to boys on Tinder.
Most days, dating offline feels like you’re conducting a lengthy sociological experiment which has yet to be approved by an ethics review board. The good news is that we are all in this experiment together, playing the role of scientist and subject interchangeably. I’ve been using the trial-and-error method, personally, putting myself in the strangest scenarios in the hopes of meeting someone I can connect with. These include but are not limited to: attending a fish party (that’s fish with an ‘f', not a ‘ph’) and signing up for an AirBnB experience…more on those later.
But, like my adorably dorky coworker told me, back when I used to work in the gaming industry: “do or do not, there is no try.” Apparently, this is a Yoda quote. Which makes me Luke Skywalker, which makes the dating apps the Empire, and makes my certain je ne sais quoi the Force. If I got that wrong, I don’t want to hear it. The main point is, I am going full send. I am publishing my dating life in the hopes that the experiments that have worked for me in the past might work for you, as well, and that any trials I conduct in the future will encourage you to do the same. Some of the lessons are practical and easily implemented, some are completely impractical because dating isn’t fun without a touch of insanity, and some are longer-term mind-set shifts, which I have found to be equally as important as learning to give someone your number.
Results:
TBD. Although, since announcing my newsletter I have already had an Italian man let me know he’s going to book tickets to come and see me in London and a friend of mine has set me up with her coworker, so maybe there’s something to this whole public vulnerability thing.
Knowing myself, I will make missteps and I will embarrass myself and I will chicken out at least 50% of the time. But I have a note at the top of my computer that says, “don’t forget to be vulnerable,” and I think that’s all I need to keep in mind as I barrel boldly ahead.
Welcome to the post-app dating world!
Happy hunting,
Alison
I love everything about this!! Happy hunting gurl!