It made me feel that I was more likely to find someone with whom I actually connected—not just another pretty face.I uploaded pictures and filled out my profile with basic demographic information—height, body type, religion, and education.My filter settings are pretty generous—if you have a compatibility rating of higher than 70 percent, are of at least “average” attractiveness, and send more than a three-word message—“Hey” and “Yo girl” are not acceptable—your message will make it to me.(Filters are common—especially for women, who often receive a high number of lewd or casual messages from spam profiles, and generic messages from men who send the same note to a swath of profiles.) Of the 708 messages I received over the next fourteen months, 530 ended up in the filtered inbox, which left me with about one message of decent-or-above quality a day.I liked the concept of Ok Cupid’s “match percentages.” The site projects the compatibility of its users, assessing it on a scale from 1 to 100.I was a high match with a seemingly large number of men—quite a few of them were in the 99 percent range.I mentioned my penchant for ’60s soul, ’90s hip hop, indie rock, and the writing of Kurt Vonnegut—and alluded to my fondness for the board game Settlers of Catan to attract hot nerds.That first night, after crafting what I thought was a suitably witty, cool, and interesting profile, I let the site’s algorithms work their magic.
I signed up for Tinder and Bumble—two apps with simple interfaces that invite users to swipe on pictures of people they find attractive—as well as Ok Cupid.I’m also a musician (some of my work is available on i Tunes); a dancer; and a volunteer with various sports organizations.At first glance, my resumé and accomplishments may loom large, but I had thought that my well-roundedness would be an asset, or at least of interest, to the sort of man I was seeking. I posted a link to my profile on Bunz Dating Zone, a Toronto Facebook group, asking for honest feedback.I was searching for a committed relationship with a supportive partner, someone I could love deeply and who shared my values and goals.Like many singles, I had created an online dating profile. Now I decided to take it more seriously—these days, I seem to hear fewer and fewer stories of real life meet-cutes.Over the following months, I would play with this slightly: I variously described myself as a dreamer, book lover, learner, educator, and writer, someone who views the world with a glass half-full of optimism and a dash of sarcasm.I noted that my friends describe me as “sincere and hilarious,” “fun to do things with,” and “a great trivia partner.” I peppered my profile with jokes and references to climbing, yoga, learning, eating all of the things, and drinking all of the drinks.Among my single friends, and even in the conversations I overheard between strangers in coffee shops, women using dating sites described being “overwhelmed” and “flooded” with communication.On the day I completed my profile, I received one message; four more appeared over the next two days.Some of my friends pegged my situation to an intimidation factor.I’m a lawyer working toward a Ph D in management, and I am a serious athlete, competing internationally for Canada in Ultimate Frisbee.