I recently came across an article about a company, Kingfish Labs, which raised $500,000 to help develop a social dating application for Facebook. You can sign up for their app, Yoke, and select whether or not you’re in a relationship. If you’re coupled you can act as a matchmaker for your single friends, and if you’re unattached the application will recommend users to you based on the commonality of your Facebook profiles.
There are a couple of holes in this plan:
- I love my friends dearly, but many of them have a hard enough time setting themselves up. Add the fact that most of us are highly undesirable dating specimen, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.
- A computer can only account for the things that are being said in a profile and not the things that aren’t. You wouldn’t know that someone was a hardcore KKK member until they started fitting you for your head cover.
Okay, maybe I’m being a bit of a naysayer here. I’m sure the software developers are all smart people with advanced degrees in dating women socializing computer stuff. I’m sure they’ve considered all the possibilities.
Let’s imagine a world in which I was was single, and the men of the world were in danger of becoming the objects of my affection. What exactly would my likes on Facebook say about me? Who would Yoke think I paired well with? Would the men who were matched with me kill themselves slowly and brutally, or in a swift, humane manner?
Here are some highlights from my Facebook profile:
Music: Devil’s Urethra
Movies: Shaving Ryan’s Privates
Sports: Croquet, bowling (how athletic of me!)
Activities: Eating, beer, sleep, bacon
Interests: Reruns of The Golden Girls
Television: Reality television
Games: Scattegories, Balderdash, Scrabble (word games are as much of an aphrodisiac as taking a kick to the nuts)
Likes: Yelling at Inanimate Objects, Not Panicking Over Swine Flu, There is Nothing Worse Than a Rejected High Five, I Will Carry 20 Grocery Bags so I Don’t Have to Make a Second Trip, It’s Really Not That Spicy You’re Just White, I Hate it When You’re With MC Hammer and He Doesn’t Let You Touch Anything
I spent hours (okay, minutes) toiling away at inputting the above data into my computer (okay, I ate pizza and just thought about inputting it) and was able to come up with my perfect match: