Why I'm building Vera
Dear reader,
I'm a scientist, not a matchmaker, so I know it looks odd to see me writing about dating. Let me say why. I got tired of nodding along when people say dating apps are broken. Most people I know would agree, and almost nobody does anything about it. I include myself in that.
The numbers are more mixed than the complaints. According to Pew Research, one in ten partnered adults in the US met their partner on an app, and for people under thirty it's one in five. So the apps clearly work for somebody. But ask the people using them how it feels and you get 53% positive and 46% negative. Then it gets interesting. Men say they feel insecure about how few messages they get (64%). Women say they feel overwhelmed by how many they get (54%). Same apps, opposite problems. One person stares at an empty inbox while another can't keep up with a full one. That doesn't sound like a character flaw in anyone. It sounds like a design problem.
Here's my guess at the cause. A dating app usually makes money while you're still looking. I don't think anyone sits in a meeting and decides to keep you lonely. They don't have to. If time spent is what pays the bills, endless choice looks like a great idea, and endless choice makes it very easy to forget there's a real person on the other end. You stop answering. You vanish. We even have a word for it now, ghosting, which tells you how normal it has become.
There's a bigger shift behind this too. People are marrying later. In 2024 the median age at first marriage in the US was about 30.8 for men and 28.8 for women, the highest since the Census survey started tracking it in 2008 (Bowling Green State University's analysis). A lot of us spend our twenties moving for school and jobs, away from the people who used to introduce us to someone. When that falls away, the apps pick up all the slack, and they were never built for that. On top of it we've all gotten used to scrolling, comparing and keeping our options open. Somewhere along the way, saying "I'm looking for something lasting" started to feel a little embarrassing. It shouldn't.
I could write a long rant about all this. It would be fun to write and it wouldn't change anything. What I do know how to do is build systems out of data, and one thing that work has taught me is that a system gets people doing whatever it rewards. Reward attention and you get attention. So I want to find out what happens when something rewards sincerity instead. I might be wrong. That's what testing is for.
Here's how the matching is meant to work, in plain words. Once a week you tell Vera you're open. You've already said what you can't compromise on, things like family, faith, where you live and what age range suits you, so anyone who clashes with that never shows up. You get a short list of about ten people instead of an endless stack, and you mark each one privately: very interested, interested, or not for me. Nobody sees what you picked. When two people picked each other, they're introduced at the same moment. When they didn't, nothing happens and nobody ever knows. No rejection, no "hey" sitting unanswered.
The pairing idea comes from economics. It's the same one that matches new doctors to hospital residencies, and it makes sure nobody ends up with someone when both they and another person would have preferred each other. I like that it treats both sides alike, and that nobody can pay to jump the line. I'm also leaving out a compatibility score on purpose. The research I've read says those scores don't predict who clicks in person, and I don't want a number deciding who you get to meet.
The website is meant to feel different too. Everyone gets a small personal website instead of a profile card, with photos, writing and the things they care about. You choose what's public. On public pages you appear under a nickname unless you decide otherwise, and nobody gets your phone number or email until you both agree to share them. I'd like a first impression to be longer than three photos and a prompt.
Ghosting needs an answer as well. We're working on a simple way to say "thanks, not a fit," and on gentle steps for people who keep leaving others hanging. The details are on our standards page.
Why do I think any of this could change something? I don't believe an app can fix loneliness. But habits follow incentives. If you can't buy attention, if introductions are mutual, if silence has a polite alternative and the pace is slow, people might read each other more carefully. Sincere people might stop feeling like the odd ones out. If enough people get used to that, saying "I'd like to meet someone to build a life with" might sound normal again. That's the hope. I'm not promising it, and if the results say it isn't working, I'll tell you.
Where things stand today: Vera is an early alpha, by invitation. Members can already build their websites, write, and send each other letters. The weekly introductions aren't live yet. I'm planning to start around Houston and grow only when there are enough members for the introductions to be good. You can see how they're designed on the introductions page.
If you have a thought or a criticism, I'd like to hear it. There's a short note form on the Vera home page.
Warmly,
Alexandre Chen