Dating by Numbers: Finding love with maths

Can a mathematical formula solve the problem of finding the perfect date? As Valentine's Day approaches, one writer finds out...

Feature by Chloë Maughan | 18 Jan 2017

I have had my fair share of excruciating dates. Certainly some nights, after another less than satisfying encounter, it feels like I’ve taken the whole pie. From the guy who objected to recycling, to the man who announced ten minutes into a coffee date that his wife might join us: my experiences have made me laugh, cry and consistently brought me closer to my vibrator. And along the way I’ve definitely walked away from dates that have left me warm, but still achingly unsure. Ultimately, even when you do stumble across something woo-worthy, there’s always that question wavering in the background: is this it?

In a world where dating apps make romance feel ever more accessible, it’s easy for suitors to become just another option in a never-ending aisle of possibilities. And with such a seeming bounty of matches within our reach, how are we to know when to stop swiping and start saying yes?

The theory

Recently my friend told me of a mathematical theorem that boasts the answer to finding this elusive, ‘optimum’ stopping place. Perhaps this doesn’t sound like the sexiest of solutions, but I’ve been told it has the hallmarks of a good drinking challenge. Besides, I’d recently been informed by a BuzzFeed quiz that my Starbucks choice means I’m not destined to meet my match for another eight years. I was willing to try anything to speed up the process.

In a theory dreamed up by mathematician Matt Parker, it’s suggested that an algorithm, designed by statistician Dennis Lindley in response to The Secretary Problem, may hold the key to locating our perfect partners.

And what is this ‘Secretary Problem’, you might ask? Well, much like in the realm of exclusive monogamous dating, Lindley’s formula relies on the idea that you have to decide whether you’re prepared to settle for each candidate as they come along. In choosing both a secretary and a dinner date, there are no takesy-backsies once you’ve rejected them… you could try, but it would be pretty awkward.

Many of us choose not to settle for the first person we date, because we want to know what’s out there. But equally there is that fear that if you keep hunting, you’ll pass by the best, much like in secretary theory. According to Parker, “somewhere in the middle there must be an ideal place to stop interviewing more candidates just to see what they’re like, and hurry up and choose a good one.” The same, he suggests, should be applied to dating.

With this knowledge behind me, I decided to embark upon my own experiment – to find my perfect match, using the power of maths. Sexy, right?

So, down to the nitty gritty. Finding peak date material, the theory tells us, lies in sampling 37% of your possibilities, and then accepting the next best that comes along. If you’re looking for the perfect secretary, reject 37% of your hopefuls and you’ll get yourself the perfect employee. If you’re after a date, work your way through 37% of your local eligible partners and the next person who comes along might be a winner.

On the basis of time constraints I capped my sample at 100 men. But quickly realising I didn’t have the time or patience to go out and date 37 people, I decided to test the theory on those early pre-date interactions instead – those preliminary flirtatious negotiations many of us have experienced via Tinder, OKCupid or whatever takes up the storage space on your phone.

The sample: the men of Bumble

On the dating app Bumble, once there’s a mutual match, only women are able to send the first message. This meant I could ensure each interaction was started in exactly the same way, with a simple: “Hey! How are you?” The rest was up to my companion and chemistry.

A truly random sample would perhaps have relied on swiping right to every man that crossed my dash, and testing the interactions with the first 37 matches. But I wanted to mimic something closer to the human experience. After all, in dating we don’t simply sample any person that asks (thank god), but those that already satisfy our key desires. Are they the right age? Am I attracted to them? Is he a chronic mansplainer with white dreads?

We’re able to determine a surprising amount of this from a small set of pictures; I know I’m a sucker for a man holding a puppy and repelled by pictures of house bros on nights out. So, I resolved only to swipe right on the guys that would usually pique my interest. To the left with men posing with rifles, perpetually obscured by sunglasses (what are you hiding, anyway?). And to the right for those with honest eyes, and a disproportionate population of bearded boys with nose piercings. What can I say, I have a type!

The method

I capped each engagement at ten messages sent each way. Some guys wouldn’t reply to that first message. What did this mean? Well, they weren’t my match, obviously. They got a simple 0.

For the rest I produced a delicate ranking criteria to weight the interactions against each other. These included: humour; equality of engagement (i.e. did they ask and respond to questions, or expect me to lead the conversation), and feminist credentials. Minus points would be applied for dick pics.

The results

Prior to this experience I’d never spent so much time on a dating app. My tolerance is pretty low, and often it takes just one dodgy message for me to hit the uninstall button. And yet here I was, swiping through the thumb cramp to find Mr Right, or at least Mr Probably Better Stop Looking Now. And that's when I ran into a slight problem. If there is one thing that can disillusion you with internet dating altogether, it’s completing Bumble (Bristol edition) in just three days. 30% of the way into the messaging stage and I was running out of suitors.

My optimum (aka Mr Stop Right Now Thank You Very Much) had only one real contender: a guy I matched with just 5% of the way into the experiment. Oh, Mr 5%. He surpassed the criteria – he was funny and sweet, and kept his clothes on in all his pics. He played music for a living, and identified openly as a feminist. I’d half decided that if the experiment didn’t work out, I’d work my way back to him and ask him out.

My other interactions were somewhat disastrous. Let’s just say I learned more than I’d bargained for about the kinks of virtual strangers, and seen guys less than ten messages in (and long before the first round of drinks) inviting themselves round to “warm me up”.

With ever dwindling numbers and a cornucopia of dick pics from overly forward matches, I regret to admit that I gave up on reaching 37%, let alone looking beyond it for my optimum stopping point. What was the point? The lovely Mr 5% had disappeared, and I couldn’t help but feel it was karma’s lesson, teaching me not to sacrifice people to the auto-reject pile in favour of stats. A lesson in embracing what’s in front of you, perhaps. That, or the BuzzFeed quiz was right: bring on 2025.

http://theskinny.co.uk/deviance