How to stop swiping and find your person on dating apps

I first tried online dating
my freshman year of college,

which was in 2001,
in case you can't see my wrinkle.

Now, as you may have noticed,
I'm six-feet tall,

and when I arrived at my chosen university

and realized our men's Division III
basketball team averaged five-foot-eight,

I abandoned the on-campus
scene and went online.

Now, back then, online dating
was pretty close to the plot

of "You've Got Mail."

You'd write long emails
back and forth for weeks,

before you finally met up in real life.

Except, in my case,
you'd realize you have no chemistry

and so now, you're back to square one.

So, while online dating
has changed a lot in the last 17 years,

many of the frustrations remain the same.

Because here's what it does well.

It broadens your pool of potential dates

beyond your existing social
and professional circles.

And here's what it doesn't do well.

Literally everything else.

(Laughter)

A few things you should know about me:

I'm an action-oriented overachieving
math and theater nerd,

who ended up with an MBA.

So, when things aren't working out,
I tend to take a step back,

apply my business toolkit
to figure out why, and to fix it.

My love life was no exception.

The summer before I turned 30,
I took myself on a relationship off-site.

Which means I went camping solo
in Maine for a week,

to do a retro on my track record
of mediocre relationships.

Because the thing was,
I knew what I wanted in a partner.

Kindness, curiosity, empathy,
a sense of purpose.

And yet, here's what I chose for online:

Ivy League degree, six feet or taller,

lives within 12 subway stops of me.

It's not that I intentionally
prioritized those things,

it's just the easiest to vet for online.

It kind of is like a résumé review,

which is why these guys
looked great on paper

and never quite fit me.

So when I went back online
in the spring of 2016,

I decided to reengineer the process
through some classic business tools.

First, I went to OkCupid,

because I wanted to avoid
the gamification of swipe-based apps.

And also, because I wanted
a writing sample.

Next, I set up a sales funnel,

throwing out any sense of my type,

and instead defining the criteria
that would qualify a lead.

An inbound message had to do three things:

had to be written in complete sentences
and with good grammar;

it had to reference
something in my profile,

so I know it's not
a copy-and-paste situation;

and it had to avoid all sexual content.

I figured this was a pretty low bar,

but it turns out,
of my 210 inbound messages,

only 14 percent cleared that hurdle.

(Laughter)

Next, I wanted to meet in real life
as quickly as possible,

because the things I cared about,
I couldn't see online.

But the research, and my experience,

shows you only need about 30 seconds
with someone to tell if you click.

So I invented the zero date.

The zero date is one drink, one hour.

With the goal of answering one question:

Would I like to have
dinner with this person?

Not "are they the one"?

Literally, "Would I like to spend
three hours across the table

from this person?"

You tell them you have a hard stop --

drinks with girlfriends,
a conference call with China --

it doesn't matter, they don't know you.

The point is one hour.

If it's awesome,
you schedule a first date.

And if it's not awesome,
you downshift into entertainer mode

and you workshop a few new stories
for your next networking event.

Plus, because it's just an hour,
you can squeeze up to three in one evening

and then you only have to do your hair
and pick out one great outfit a week.

The zero date also gave me a chance
to see how they responded

to me asking them out.

I figured not everyone
would dig my moxie, and I was right.

Of my 29 qualified leads,
only 15 replied to my message,

and of those, six scheduled a zero date.

My first zero date
was with a set designer.

And we were both into yoga

and preferred our bagels
with peanut butter,

so it looked pretty promising.

But two minutes in, I could tell
it wasn't going to be a thing

and I was relieved not to be
spending dinner with him.

After that, I was a little nervous
about going to my next zero date.

But we had agreed to meet
on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade

with a flask of whiskey
to watch the sunset,

and honestly, it was two blocks
from my apartment.

Plus, this guy had a podcast,
I have a podcast,

worst case scenario,
we can talk about our podcasts.

Then, Chaz set down next to me.

And this kind and empathetic man

told great jokes
and asked even better questions.

He was a lawyer and a writer,
and his eyes twinkled when he laughed

and they squeezed tight when I kissed him

and at some point in the evening,
our zero date became a first date.

And two years later, we have a washer,
dryer and two house plants together.

Now, I can't promise
you're going to end up with house plants.

But the point of this story

is that online dating
doesn't have to suck.

Don't treat it like a game,
and don't treat it like a resume review.

Instead, use it to source
and qualify leads

and then get offline as quickly
as possible with the zero date.

Because the point of this isn't swiping.

It's finding your person.

Good luck.

(Applause)