The digitization of the dinner date

OK, so craigslist may not be the place to find a classy date. In tech-sessed San Francisco, more traditional (in relative terms) alternatives not only exist, but enjoy a kind of popularity. OK Cupid, in particular, is fast becoming this date-averse city’s accepted mode of introduction. These algorithm matchmakers are becoming so widespread that even the New Yorker, which recently devoted an entire 3 pages to the Royal Danish Ballet, loosened up it’s tux to sniff at OK Cupid:

OK Cupid, in its profile, comes across as the witty, literate geek-hipster, the math major with the Daft Punk vinyl collection and the mumblecore screenplay in development. Get to know it a little better and you’ll find that it contains multitudes—old folks, squares, more Jews than JDate, the polyamorous crowd. Dating sites have for the most part always had either a squalid or a chain-store ambience. OK Cupid, with a breezy, facetious tone, an intuitive approach, and proprietary matching stratagems, comes close to feeling like a contemporary Internet product, and a pastime for the young. By reputation, it’s where you go if you want to hook up, although perhaps not if you are, as the vulgate has it, “looking for someone”—the phrase that connotes a desire for commitment but a countervailing aversion to compromise. Owing to high traffic and a sprightly character, OK Cupid was also perhaps the most desirable eligible bachelor out there, until February, when it was bought, for fifty million dollars, by Match.

Continue reading to uncover the author’s cough shocking verdict: