Mind the Stats
Data and predictions rule our world but does this leave us well equipped for romantic decision making?
One of my friends recently proposed to his girlfriend on a run. His Garmin displayed his heart rate was highest, not for the duration of their exercise session, but at the point he popped the question. He forever has a visual representation of his feelings in that moment. A trace of the physiology associated with their synonymously requited feelings. Actually, it’s kind of beautiful. They should frame it in their house. I’m sure this picture could eventually make it into a Strava hall of fame. Strava, is apparently now a place where people flirt? Who knew. I don’t have it in my over-saturated app roster but my super-active friends declare giving ‘kudos’ is now worth more than a like on Bumble.
Physical health is one place we are consistently provided with metrics: our step count, the hours of sleep we had or how loud our volume is. Our lives are made more efficient by apps and Outlook tells us when our next appointment is. We can even track our estimated arrival time before we order a taxi. We calculate and communicate our every move. Decisions are shortlisted for us in shopping and entertainment. Online retailers make purchasing suggestions — often they are spookily accurate. With exception of one or two songs I search and play on repeat (at the moment, it’s Chance the Rapper and The Jonas Brothers) the rest of my music taste is pre-selected by Spotify. The creepiness goes so far that my Instagram sponsored shopping gets saucier when I’m ovulating. I’m sure that my Clue data has something to do with that. Our businesses, lifestyles and ultimately, our brains — are now run by data. Google Maps may guide us on the quickest route but we have no true sense of direction anymore. We are used to efficiency and we want everything on demand. So, where does that leave us when it comes to romance? Is there such a thing as artificial intelligence when it comes to love?
Thanks to all this predictive technology, we are naturally more risk averse. Without our phones, we feel at a loose end. We over-analyse every online interaction and look for validation without truly connecting. Even Strava is a place where people are trying to win others’ attention. How many times do you know exactly where you’re going but you still double-check Citymapper? We have lost confidence in our convictions; this trickles through to how we approach dating. Why don’t we apply the logic of giving ‘kudos’ in real life? People are scared. We no longer back ourselves to make the first move. Our first level of co-dependency in any new relationship is with our phone screen. Through our always-on, digital hand-held buffers, we give ourselves too much digital space to re-review other human beings whilst being consistently attached to them. We hypothetically put someone in our basket to potentially check them out later on and we keep browsing the store. Despite artificial intelligence’s intention to make things more efficient, this way of living manifests itself as a lack of urgency. It’s frustrating to see friends deliberate whether they should swipe right on the hot guy in the office. The answer is no: Ask them out. Or, just find a work project you need help on (even if you don’t really) — ask for their support and offer to buy them coffee as a thank you. The app-crutch adds another layer of potential miscommunication. The lack of urgency we’ve developed from living in an on-demand world helps nobody. Moreover, our online dating world leaves us entitled to have all our desires met and yet, we are fearful and paralysed in a paradox of choice.
Connection is a feeling. It isn’t a number. We could rate our feelings on a strength scale but the actual feeling of connection is hard to quantify; it often defies logic. Dating apps go so far as telling you: ‘we think you two should meet’. How the hell does Hinge know who I might be compatible with? Sure, it can align factors such as hobbies or physical preferences but this only gets you so far. The app does not know my irrational intolerances (e.g. wearing a hood up inside the house) or those of mine someone else might find insufferable (I sometimes bite my fork with my teeth when I am anxious). I don’t have a physical type, though I do often date men with floppy hair and glasses (I blame Nancy Myers entirely for Graham in The Holiday). If an app did allow me to search: ‘bookish, sensitive man who mildly resembles Jude Law’ — it still might not help. An app will not showcase how someone talks to a waiter, if they linger outside the restaurant or go in and order a drink for your arrival. It will not show you if they have a strange walk, an annoying laugh or a weird nervous habit of pouting in moments of awkward silence. I frame these things as if they make a difference; they do - only when things are not quite right. If I can come home from a date and analytically list off their hobbies and traits like a GCSE Spanish exam, then I know something was missing. If there is real chemistry, all the small factors are rendered irrelevant. Two different humans could tell the exact same joke: one would repulse me; the other, see me immediately removing all my clothing. That’s not being fickle — it’s the nature of romantic connection. Tinder may provide you with unsolicited pictures of someone’s penis but the app’s algorithm cannot predict if someone has big dick energy. Hinge cannot predict the quiet intellectual confidence which is the only common thread between anyone I’ve ever been very attracted to. Bumble can’t predict the tiny little subconscious twinges you have in your body when you meet someone for the first time. An app cannot predict the feeling that someone has a kind soul. Attraction, whilst there may be patterns defined by our previous experiences and our own societal expectations, is more or less random. It’s energetic.
Life is messy. It doesn’t work programmatically. Shit things happen. Things go wrong. People are fascinatingly contradictory. The specificities that land you attracted to someone are often nuanced and multi-faceted. They’re also often things which might take you by surprise. You definitely won’t know what they all are until you genuinely listen to them — and yourself. We can’t predict it. So, here’s my advice: remain open minded in the early stages but remember the gut never lies. Being anti-dating apps or online flirtation will become a self-fulfilling prediction of what romantic technology yields for you. There’s no point in resisting the apps that run our lives but be aware of how you’re using them. Ask yourself questions about how and why you’re feeling the way you do in life and love. For me, I see data and technology as an input to romantic decision making. I don’t over-analyse or focus too heavily on any of the pre-defined criteria or what the intended outcome should be. I use human interactions to gather intel and process my feelings and desires. Use the window into someone else’s life to educate yourself — to listen. If you feel in a moment that someone is good-looking or has a nice energy, clock it. Act upon it. Trust me, it works. (I recently managed to have a rom-com-worthy kiss at Gatwick Airport because I acted upon my instinct to chat up the hot doctor sat next to me on the plane — that’s a story for another time.)
The one thing data and predictive technology will never be able to do for you is make a romantic decision. Build your own relationship intelligence. Authentic intelligence is the AI we should all strive for. So, go out there and gather your own data. You are the only person who can predict your compatibility with someone. Back yourself.
Totally fabulous