Commodified complacency

Earlier this week, one Google Alert email, among the bazillion of others that bombard my work inbox daily, caught my attention: “The state of dating on Wall Street,” it read. The link led me to a Fortune Magazine article called “Wall Street’s $25,000 matchmaker.” Compared to the other bland (but sometimes exciting in a geeky sort of way) items I read in my morning hours, this one seemed much more entertaining.

As it turned out – entertaining it was, but at the same time, unreal. A matchmaker that costs that much money, to me, seems to undermine the whole idea of a matchmaker, not least because it’s simply idiotic to hash out $25,000 (that’s one year’s worth of university education in some places!) to find someone to date. Doesn’t the fact that you would pay $25K for a dating service say something quite significant about yourself, beyond how much discretionary spending money you have? Or has certain parts of society reached a stage where spending thousands of dollars to find a good match is totally justifiable by reasons such as lack of time available, lack of opportunities to meet people – and what does that say about society itself?

Of all the industries to be considered as consumer discretionary, one would think that third-party dating services would be one of them. But apparently, such is not the case and south Manhattan is by no means the exception to the rule. Because when times get tough, purse strings get tighter but the heart gets looser. Or, at least more amenable to romantic possibilities. Internet dating – Match.com, OKCupid, DatingDirect, eHarmony, and the like – has seen more subscribers, for reasons ranging from more time available to devote to one’s private life, a perceived need for a supportive companion, and a means to split costs.

That’s all well and fine, but a matchmaking service that costs $25,000 seems rather crazy, especially considering the insight Samantha Daniels is giving. To the question, “Now that "I'm a hedge-funder" no longer does the trick, how would you advise bankers to market themselves romantically?” Daniels gave the following answer:

When you meet a woman, you should go back to the basics of who you are as a person – how you live your life, your interests. But it's also good to let someone know that you're doing well and have a stable job in this environment. The number one thing women are attracted to is confidence.

Right. In my humble opinion, that there are people out there who need to be reminded that on your first date, you don’t firstly talk about your income level (“I have an annual salary of $100,000 plus a $50,000 bonus”) and your job title (“I’m vice president of ___”) and the company you work for (“I work for JP Morgan, which is one of the few first-tier investment banks left in the world”), seems simply bizarre. Obviously, if that’s your starting point, then you’ve effectively narrowed yourself down to a pool of people who are looking for exactly those qualities, not the ones who look beyond that. So follows the question, “How do you convey financial stability without handing over tax statements?” and the answer, “My clients have a lot of toys and own a lot of homes. But if you tell someone that you own your own plane on a first date, it sounds like you're overcompensating for something.” Hammer that last nail in the coffin, why don’t you.

Of course, if that’s what you’re looking for, then good for you. By choosing a service such as Samantha’s Table, one does filter out those who allegedly wouldn’t be described as “ultra-successful, ultra-busy, ultra-cultured, and the ultra-educated.” But clearly, Daniels’ clients are not all looking to dig gold (or are they?), as the fact that her clients would pay $25K shows that people are doing whatever they can to find a good match, and one of such criteria – not the only – happens to hinge on income level (see “Money – or ambition? – and the City”).

What ultimately really bothers me about the proliferation of ‘exclusive’ dating services is that, it’s another way by which social categorization is effectuated. It’s subversive because it plays on our tendency towards the familiar, our fear of the unfamiliar, and our preference for convenience. It produces, encourages, and glorifies a social structure that is really based on purchasing power but is masked with labels like ‘success’, ‘culture’, and ‘intelligence’.

Surely, there is nothing wrong with someone seeking another of similar social standing, income, education, background, along with interests, lifestyles, hobbies, and the like. Just as our nature to greed, to hunger, and to reason can never be fully satisfied, nor will our tendency to stick with what we know, seek stability, and choose the easier way out. And to be sure, the subject of these actions can vary: we can greed for wealth or for justice, we can hunger for food or knowledge, we can reason with someone or out of a situation. But to put in place purchasable services that banks on people being lazy about human relationships can’t do very much good.

After all, relationships are supposed to require effort, pull you out of your comfort zones, make you think – often both about the other person as well of yourself – and push you to strike a balance for pretty much everything between you and your partner. They are full of prolonged sessions of diplomacy that for some eventuates in years of peace and hopefully, brief moments of turmoil. A service that tries to get you out of doing that will only make one complacent and naïve about what it takes to build human relationships, break them, and find ways to rebuild them.