Love is Blind, and so is Dating on Feeld.
How a dating app reminds me of the Netflix series.
I look down to a Feeld notification. A new match: ‘Kleo.’
She has only two pictures, one showing off her long tanned legs, the second a tasteful pic of her chest, her nipples outlined by her thin white t-shirt.
At first, her messages are banal.
How was your weekend? A general icebreaker.
What’s your dog’s name? A solid indicator of interest.
But things get steamy quickly. She is looking for a FWB. She’s a businesswoman and also CEO of her own startup. She has a daughter. She’s not looking for anything serious.
She’s saying everything right, but she’s not volunteering any face pics. But does it matter?
DATING ON FEELD
Feeld is a dating app that accommodates those looking for ethical non-monogamy, polyamory, casual and group sex, and kink.
It’s also a haven for non-binary people and promotes sex positivity. Originally named 3nder, the app launched in 2014 as a vessel for people to find threesome candidates.
According to The New York Times, over a third of its users are romantically paired. One of its key features is being able to link your account to a romantic or sex partner.
Unlike other apps, women are more secretive. They often use a different name or omit pictures of their face.
Kleo hides both, and she wants to meet me tomorrow. She sends a voice message, revealing a sexy eastern European accent.
She says she thinks it’s hot that I’m willing to meet her without seeing her face. The mystery is certainly titillating.
LOVE IS BLIND
Love is Blind is the Netflix series that has attracted millions of people worldwide. The show has singles getting to know each other in ‘pods’ without meeting face to face, to see whether an emotional connection trumps a physical one.
The show’s success hinges on the age-old conceit of not judging a book by its cover. Superficiality is something to be resisted. Emotional depth, intelligence, and vulnerability is the prize.
One of the reasons Love is Blind hits differently than a show like The Bachelor is that it shows the challenges of awkwardness of intimacy, like Diamond and Carlton dealing with issues of race and sexuality or Barnett and Amber’s frank discussions on their personal finances.
The series also doesn’t exclusively cast Instagram models for humans. Love’s contestants are attractive, to be sure, but they’re real, and therefore, riskier propositions.
DATING IS BLIND
As I walk into the bar tinged with red light, I feel confident. After all, she’s seen my pictures, and has decided I’m charming enough to ask out.
Then I see her.
I’m not going to lie — I’m slightly disappointed.
In terms of her physicality, she is attractive, but a let down from the image I’d built in my head.
The first hundred and eighty seconds are awkward. As all first dates are. When she asks what I think of her looks, I tell her she’s pretty.
It feels inauthentic to say that. But what’s the alternative? You’re not as attractive as I hoped?
BEAUTY IS SUBJECTIVE
In the show’s three seasons, several couples dealt with the challenges of building an emotional connection with someone who they typically wouldn’t physically connect with.
It was especially challenging for two couples on the show: Jessica and Mark, and Bartise and Nancy.
Mark is buff and emotionally intelligent, but Jessica prefers her men taller. Bartise previously fell for a pilates instructor and compared Nancy to her for the remainder of the season.
Both couples made it to the alter. Neither made it past their vows.
Beauty is subjective, but attraction is not. You either have it or you don’t.
DATING IS SUBJECTIVE
While the physical attraction to my date isn’t spellbinding, the conversation, however, is fire.
While I admit that my initial physical attraction was minimal, I find her openness and honesty hot. I’m ready for a second drink.
Her honesty surprises me, however, when she finishes her pint and says she thinks she’ll call it a night.
Considering the sexual nature of our texting convo, I’m downright shocked.
WE GASLIGHT OURSELVES
To watch Jessica in season one was both gripping and unbelievably cringeworthy.
Because we see her interviews and how she is with other people, we know for a fact that she’s forcing herself to try and feel something for Mark.
She’s gaslighting herself. She isn’t attracted to Mark, nor does she genuinely have romantic feelings for him, but for whatever reason she forces herself to go on.
People talk themselves into relationships every day. Sometimes, real love grows. But more often than not, it’s a one way ticket to misery.
My date tells me that while she does find me attractive, now that we’ve met in person, she doesn’t feel the attraction.
She isn’t sure my vibe matches my pictures, which she likes enthusiastically. The irony seems to be lost on her that I walked into this date without seeing her face. But there’s one last test:
I kiss her. She kisses me back, with enthusiasm. We make out on the street. I end the kiss and she looks up at me, smiling.
It’s dating whiplash.
I went in feeling (over)confident, felt a lack of attraction, found my way in, only to be rejected. Our kiss was fiery, for sure, but felt almost competitive.
In a way, the whole date was a game. An experiment.
Love is Blind proves, as much an engineered reality show from Netflix can, that a modern version of pen-palling is sweet, exciting, and likely unsustainable.
The odds of that finding a true match with someone whose pheromones you have yet to interact with are just so low. Physical chemistry is important. Biology is at play no matter what the emotional circumstances are.
My date with Kleo still fascinates me. It blows my mind that she was so hot over text and so not in person. It blows my mind that I gaslighted myself into thinking there was a spark.
But at that point, it’s not about attraction. It’s about winning. And I bet that’s exactly what being a contestant on Love is Blind is like.
Love is Blind Season 4 is now streaming.
The writer is happily dating a woman from Tinder. Face pics were included.
