"Evolution of online dating" (36 questions)/ "Why we need to rekindle the art of flirting"

Feb. 19, 2022: This is from my old physical news articles:

Feb. 11, 2015 "Evolution of online dating": Today I found this article by Brent Wittmeier in the Edmonton Journal.  I had a couple of blog posts that mention Arthur Aron's 36 questions:

"What's love got to do with it?"/ Jenna Birch

Tracy's blog: "What's love got to do with it?"/ Jenna Birch (badcb.blogspot.com)

"Accelerated intimacy: Can 36 questions make people fall in love?"

Tracy's blog: "Accelerated intimacy: Can 36 questions make people fall in love?" (badcb.blogspot.com)

In the mid-1990s, American psychologist Arthur Aron conducted an experiment.

A man and a woman would enter a room as complete strangers, then lob 36 probing questions back and forth, before gazing into each others’ eyes for four minutes. 

In less than an hour, participants reported feeling deep connections, and as a recent New York Times story notes, at least one pair ended up marrying.

The method for creating closeness began with a few conversation starters — Question 5: “When did you last sing to yourself?” — before progressing to the deeply revealing, like 

Question 35: “Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?”

After Nikki Wiart flagged the viral Times article on Facebook, her friends joked about duplicating Aron’s experiment on Tinder. The ultra-popular matchmaking app, which allows viewers to anonymously swipe (like) or tap (reject) photos of potential mates, isn’t exactly known for excruciatingly personal disclosure. The 22-year-old MacEwan University journalism student had used the app for a couple of unsuccessful dates, and decided love and science demanded she and her gal pals try again.

Wiart wasn’t particularly choosy in searching for lab rats in the Edmonton area. She and her friends swiped hundreds of profiles. The men who swiped back were given a single question; no hellos, no attempts to get through the entire list, no attempts to induce love. 

Answering that question, respondents spoke about their mother-son relationships, embarrassing moments and hunches about death. At least one subject had also read about Aron’s experiment. Goofy or dirty replies came back, but so did sweet and serious moments. Some seemed genuinely intrigued, trying to reciprocate and go deeper.

“I was expecting a lot more dirty responses, sexist responses,” says Wiart, who posted answers and retorts on a blog. “It seemed like they were genuinely interested in why we wanted to know these intimate details.”

Apps and matchmaking sites have wrought a Copernican Revolution upon the art of dating. No longer the domain of the lonely nerd, digital love seekers can find someone with virtually any conceivable sexual preference, religion or ethnicity. Opposites need no longer attract, at least if you don’t want them to. Just swipe or tap away at your leisure.

Julie Curley isn’t surprised at the responses Wiart received, even on something like Tinder, where users might be seeking solely physical purposes. 

The registered psychologist at Shift Psychological on 124th Street says that most of her clients use matchmaking software, but also express a desire to be truly known.

 Humans are innately social. Some people just can’t help but let down their guard.

“That personal connection, that emotional intimacy is what people are craving, it’s what people are looking for in romantic relationships and in friendships,” Curley says.

 “It’s that feeling of not having to pretend or hide if someone is willing to take the time and put in the effort to know you.”

Dating apps may be criticized for their superficiality, but Curley says what comes after swiping or texting matters more. 

You can keep things casual and physical, or if you’re truly brave, open yourself up to the fast-paced vulnerability created by Arthur Aron. 

Successful, lasting relationships are marked by emotional intimacy. As her practice has shown her, an app might be a time saver to get there, a casual way of filtering possibilities when work and other commitments limit opportunities for connections.

“There’s always caution with those sorts of things, but it’s a primary way for people to connect these days,” Curley says. “Social media is not going away.”

APPS TO TRY

Thousands of websites and apps exist to help users make personal connections, whether the need is platonic or strictly physical. While older matching services required the creation of profiles, newer ones use information from existing social networking profiles. Like many other apps, the freemium business model reigns supreme, with software developers betting you’ll pay a premium for improved odds of love.

As the possibilities have exploded, several apps target particular niche needs, like LGBT users (Grindr or Dattch), those seeking platonic relationships (Cuddlr, Peoplehunt) or religious interest (jDate, ChristianMingle).

Here are some of the apps:

— Tinder: Instead of involved profiles, Tinder uses Facebook profiles to find matches through mutual friends, via common interests and by close proximity. Launched in 2012, the app is owned by the tech giant IAC, the same company behind several matchmaking websites, including Match.com and OkCupid, both of which have their own popular apps.

— eHarmony: An extension of the matchmaking website, eHarmony relies on a standard questionnaire to find matches likely to create long-term relationships. The app includes a feature allowing users to record dates and experiences.

— Zoosk: This matchmaking app, one of the oldest and with the largest user groups, uses clicks, messages and online behaviour to find potential matches.

— SinglesAroundMe: This app touts its geo-location benefits, allowing GPS to help find singles with similar interests, allowing users to serendipitously “bump into” potential matches.

— Plenty of Fish: Allows singles to filter based on educational background, religious affiliation or body type.

WHAT TO ASK

Sample questions from Aron’s list and answers from Wiart’s experiment:

1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

A: What a weird question, should we just get to the point and grab a drink?

4. What would constitute a perfect day for you?

A: Not getting eaten by a shark! Ha.

15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

A: That’s a pretty heavy ice breaker. When I was 9, my brother and I passed Mario Bros on NES in only five hours. We were pretty stoked.

27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

A: I have zero intention on staying in Edmonton after I’m through with school.

Evolution of online dating | Edmonton Journal

Jul. 22, 2015 "Why we need to rekindle the art of flirting": Today I found this article by Jane Macdougall in the Edmonton Journal:

I am a terrible flirt. Simply terrible.

There: I’ve said it. Although, why the word flirt is so often appended with the word terrible is a mystery to me. I prefer the term sensational flirt.

If I get in an elevator with you, there’s every chance I’m going to comment on the colour of your tie, the set of your jaw, the tune you’re whistling, your interesting socks, the fresh whiff of Barbadian limes you exude — and that accent? Kiwi?

I am also just as likely to remark on the colour of your purse, the line of your coif, the song you’re humming, your interesting scarf, the fresh whiff of Ecuadorian roses you exude — and is that Baudelaire’s Flowers of Evil tucked under your arm?

I am an equal opportunity flirter.

Yes, I am a sensational flirt, indeed. I’m hoping you’re a sensational flirt, too. Heaven knows: we need more flirts.

So, what is flirting? And how did its reputation end up so tarnished?

Here’s what flirting is not: it’s not seduction. In its best practice, seduction has a malign intent. Seduction involves enticing someone into an activity they’re probably going to regret.

Seduction is the verb that pours you that third drink. Seduction dims the lights. Seduction whispers that there’s a hot tub on the patio. At some point in a seduction, someone is going to go, “Whoops! I thought we were dancing.” Seduction can proceed — gently — just as soon as the seducer separates you — gently — from your senses.

Flirting is also decidedly not flattery. Flattery hinges on insincerity. It’s an ends-justifies-the-means application of admiration. Flattery hails from Old French, meaning “to stroke,” and is a noun not to be trusted. 

The flatterer wants something. Buttered up, there’s a chance you’re going to surrender it.

So, that’s what flirting is not. There’s a school of thought that says politeness has become so rare that people mistake simple manners for flirting. I suspect this is true. 

Here’s a story I love: an elderly woman is dining with friends of all ages. After their orders are taken, one of the younger women confides to the elderly woman that the waiter was — tsk, tsk — flirting with her. Granny shoots back that she damn well hopes so: “After all, I’ve gone to some trouble,” she says, sitting up just a little straighter. And there you have it. We all go to some trouble. Wouldn’t it be nice if someone noticed?

Flirting is benign. In its truest practice, it has no self serving agenda. Flirting is philanthropy on the smallest scale. In essence, it acknowledges the attractive qualities within another person but it does so for the general delight of both parties.

My life has been made grand — cinematic, even — as a result of flirting. Flirting lets you connect with people you’d have little reason to connect with otherwise. 

I was just a kid in London when I ran into Yul Brynner a day after seeing him in The King and I. I gasped as I came face to face to him in Sloane Square. He bowed deeply, and pronounced “Etc. Etc. Etc.” The world-class flirter then kissed my hand. Ask me how often I still hum Shall We Dance.

You’d be forgiven, however, for confusing flirting with, say, kleptomania. We saddle flirt with pejoratives like terrible and shameless, words better suited to larceny. I’m accused of flirting shamelessly. Women register this complaint. 

I counter that I flirt with men, women, children and dogs. I don’t amend my practice. I’ve discovered that a flirt will flirt back with aplomb — it’s the best sort of swordplay — but even the deadest of the deadwood welcomes the encounter. There’s a world of people out there who complain that life is a lack lustre series of errands. 

They grumble that nothing good ever happens, that people are callous and uncaring. They advocate for keeping your guard up and your head down — and they’re missing all the fun.

Make these candidates your objective. Flirting is an urban renewal project we can all participate in. At the very soul of flirtation is the conviction that there’s something noteworthy — something amazing — about every one of us.

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