Two weeks ago, I was sitting with a friend in a Monday afternoon tutoring session, immersed in a data analysis report that we hadn’t even started. At 5:30pm, the tutor was yawning and I could hear the person next to me checking train times for the Revesby Line and moaning about strategies for the Redfern Run. It was a dull situation befitting an even more dull conversation: my dating life.
My friend had just emerged from the perils of singlehood and found her own success story on Hinge (congratulations, you sound so happy, please don't brag about it), so the only thing we were thinking about was my own lack of prospects.
Dating apps like Hinge have become one of the most tried and tested ways to find a partner these days, and many stories back up this assertion, including my last relationship. Personally, the thought of all the possibilities — “So, what's your favorite movie?” questions, ad nauseam pick-up lines, a buildup of unanswered messages, or the inevitable matching with someone you know but didn't want to get to know — feels sterile and terrifying.
Another friend, perturbed and dissuaded by my hilarious romantic aspirations, laughed and said to the friend sitting across from me, “Zen, you should download it. Raya.”
Raya is a private, members-only dating app that was released in 2015. Originally modeled as a “celebrity dating app,” the app boasts a mix of “professional and social networking” elements, allowing users to “connect” with the latest and greatest on the singles scene. I thought this was a silly option, but given my dire outlook on dating, I had no choice but to give it a try. Despite these major misgivings, I decided to download it. Raya At that time, on the spot As an experiment.
But there were two problems. First, the app was members-only, and the only way to get on the app was through a lengthy application and referral process that took several months. To be referred to the app, you had to know someone who was already on the app. Second, you theoretically had to be a “celebrity” or at least well-established in your field. This is not news I like. Honi Soit, But I wasn’t sure being a niche StuJo microcelebrity would be enough social capital to get me anywhere.
Luckily, I had the contact information of a friend I met during an exchange program in Copenhagen last year, and miraculously, and thanks to a dodgy worded text, she introduced me and supported my application (thanks, Helena).
Just signing up to the app is such a hassle that downloading it felt like a frenzied farce. Even if I managed to sign up to the app, I was curious whether I would be able to see the “celebrities” and whether I would be able to maintain my status as a “non-celebrity.”
A week later, I was lucky enough to get a text to set up my account and get started. Well, almost.
You have to pay to join Raya. As if honing my personal and professional career to the max and finding people to recommend me wasn't enough, now I'm faced with a paywall. So I waited to see if it was worth it, given that the idea was born out of the absurdity of boring tutorials and stereotypical love-life conversations.
After a week of hmmmm and ahhhh, my friend Hony My editor encouraged me to take on this extravagant but rare opportunity, and suggested that I think of it as an “experiment” or “fieldwork” that I could blame on my own work if it didn’t work out.
So I paid for one month. At least, that's what I thought. I accidentally paid for a yearly subscription and $179.99 was charged to my card, except it wasn't my card, it was my mom's AMEX. After an embarrassingly awkward phone call explaining how this happened and avoiding questions about why I would want to use the app in the first place, I actually blamed my work, refunded the purchase, and switched payment services.
Finally, I was able to participate!
I added some basic interests, chose whether I was looking for “friends” or “connections,” attached my current song of the week (“Something Has to Change” by The Japanese House) and the country I wanted to visit, and was ready to tackle the wonders of my first voyage on a celebrity dating app. My first prospect is (drum roll please): Thomas, an investment banker and entrepreneur from Avalon on the Northern Beaches.
Sigh, while tapping Raya It's been an interesting experiment, to say the least. There are professions and “interests” I never knew existed outside the bounds of my “For You” page. I kept flipping through the pages. I met podcasters, A&R specialists, CEOs (LOT OF CEOs), freelance filmmakers, even more entrepreneurs, photographers, authors, asset management specialists (what's that?), musicians, actors.
Not surprisingly, many of these prospects were from overseas, or international matches based in Australia temporarily, or almost exclusively confined to Bondi Beach. Stranger Things Maybe it's the actors (though there's no evidence of this yet) and too many micro-influencers that triggered a temporary dopamine rush.
Even if your location is set to Australia, Raya It encompasses prospects from all over the world and justifies this through its “social and professional networking” marketing – options often include Gstaad in Switzerland, Mabel in Ireland, Carlos in Spain, etc. This is, in my experience, an exciting but largely unrealistic trait.
I decided to interview a friend about his experience with the app, and Dan, an aspiring actor, told me he'd had a similarly frenzied, surreal time on the popular app. Dan's perspective was interesting, though, because he fit the prescribed criteria much better than I did.
When I asked Dan what impressed him most about the app, he replied, “I was surprised at how many football players appeared.” [he] I believed I was straight.”
He said that made him question things. Raya “Without the ability to take screenshots and get actual evidence, they put straight celebrities on gay people's feeds just to stir up some buzz and create a kind of buzz around the app.”
Queer Relationships Raya It's a whole new conversation with a notable lack of diversity in matching preferences, which may just be a guise for the app's heterocentric model, and in my experience, the app felt more focused on fostering soulless “social hookups” than romance.
And screenshots are another story: I learned pretty early on that if I tried to screenshot the aforementioned Stranger Things actor, I'd get a threatening pop-up message saying, “This is a private community and repeated screenshotting may result in the suspension or removal of your membership.” I found other ways to record, but the lesson was firmly learned.
“Most of the matches weren't even local, so it became like a game of, 'Can I match with this celebrity or the CEO of a big company?'” Dan added, “Nothing felt real.”
Dan is adamant that the app doesn't do much to demystify the world of celebrity dating, and when asked if he would recommend Raya to a friend, he replied, “If you're willing to sacrifice $25 a month to find a slightly more interesting date, then by all means give it a try. But I'll be honest, I haven't used the app in three months and don't see myself wanting to use it again.”
I totally agree with Dan.
Scrolling through posts from investment bankers, aspiring musicians, and real estate developers in salmon linen shirts planning suspiciously popular trips to Bali, I found the app too insular and self-conscious to be treated as the social experiment I had hoped it would be.
For me, the app felt a bit lethargic, and my dating life remains just as baffling as that infamous tutorial situation that started it all. I think this is a testament to the over-hyping of being single, and of dating in general. I think it's full of misunderstandings, creepy situations, and unanswered questions.
So, if you want to know what I learned from my silly “48 Hours on a Celebrity Dating App,” my experiences on and off Raya taught me that dating can be life-changing and interesting.
But it can also be a miserable, exhausting cycle where your hopes and dreams are mercilessly dashed as prospective lovers ignore you or intentions clash — or it can also be a fun story to share around the dinner table with friends, unless you opt for the annual payment option when you decide to give it a try.
