My first tagline for The League was ‘for people who hate dating apps, by people who hate dating apps’. Let me explain. 

At the ripe age of 31, I have tried pretty much every dating app out there (hey – it’s my job!), so let’s just say I’ve experienced a few digital charms or “super-likes” in my day. Digital charms are something users can buy through their dating site to signal to another user that they are “interested”.  The idea stems from our old 1950’s bar scenario, where a guy offers to buy a woman and her friend a drink and in return for his generosity, they allow him a few minutes to show off his charisma, or ‘peacock’ if you’d like. The trouble is, when adapting this offline courtship behavior for the online world, dating companies chose to make these ‘charms’ extremely cheap ($.10 – $.90) in an effort to maximize revenue across their user-base and essentially force men into a ‘pay to play’ competitive scenario with each other. Most dating sites tend to get nearly all revenue from men, who are often clueless on what to do to get women to match/message with them, so they hope and pray this ‘online charm’ method works. This results in charms losing their charm, if you’ll pardon my pun.

The amount of ‘signals’ being sent clutter up our screens and worsen the experience for women, but even worse, they cheapen the whole ‘meeting’ experience for both parties. As a female, do you really want to meet the love of your life in an environment where dozens of men are throwing dimes and quarters at you aggressively every time you log on? And as a male, do you really want to your ‘how I met your mother’ story to be ‘I threw a dime at her online and she sent me a wink back?’.

Though many of my guy friends have urged us to copy this ‘online charm’ feature to give them better odds when vying for a girl’s attention, I refuse, because even though I know it’s an easy and incredibly scalable revenue stream, with most of my competitors embracing it, I don’t think ‘throwing winks’, or whatever the currency may be, is a good look on anyone. These courtship-inspired gamification elements feel tacky and brothel-like to me, and are a big part of why I think so many men and women STILL hate to admit they met on a dating app. Every dating app I’ve tried makes me feel like I’m sitting at a McDonald’s in the Red Light District with fluorescent lighting, brightly colored walls, bubble letters everywhere, and surreal things like charms, winks, red lips, passports, beans, and bees flying around my head asking me for money, while I’m squinting to read the only menu available, the dollar menu. Not exactly where I want to meet Mr. Right.

Every dating app I’ve tried makes me feel like I’m sitting at a McDonald’s in the Red Light District with fluorescent lighting, brightly colored walls, bubble letters everywhere, and surreal things like charms, winks, passports, beans, and bees flying around my head while I’m squinting to read the only menu available, the dollar menu.

All that being said, I do appreciate the fact that every once in awhile, for someone special, you may want to do something to stand out from the pack and show that person that you’re excited about them. Unfortunately, when you haven’t officially met yet, it’s nearly impossible to do that unless your dating app plays wingman.

I do appreciate the fact that every once in awhile, for someone special, you may want to do something to stand out from the pack and show someone that you’re excited about them. Unfortunately, when you haven’t officially met yet, it’s nearly impossible to do that unless your dating app plays wingman.

And even if the dating app steps in to help, you’re only as powerful as the tools it provides you (which, as described above, are usually pretty lame).

But what would all of us enjoy receiving from quasi-strangers, that isn’t creepy or awkward? I thought back to my own experiences and remembered when I called the sports bar where my new ‘date’ was watching the baseball game with his guy friends, and had the bartender charge two giant buckets of beers to my credit card. He and his friends practically fell over in lovestruck awe when the bartender announced to everyone that ‘a newly converted Red Sox fan’ had bought the next round for everyone.

I then thought about the time I met a slightly boring and shorter-than-my-ideal man briefly at a party, and the next day he found out where I worked and sent flowers to me with a card asking me on a date. I was so blown away by just how darn sweet of a gesture that was that I decided right then and there I should go on at least two dates with the guy, no matter how serious he might be (or how much I towered over him in heels). And you know what? He was a blast and we dated for three months.

It’s that happy, special, delighted feeling you get when you receive such a spontaneous, public gift that I want to be captured in a #leaguelike. So we’ve partnered with two on-demand mobile startups that know exactly how to deliver on such an idea: BloomThat and MiniBar. Starting on February 9th, just in time for Valentines Day, you can buy a bouquet of flowers or a bucket of beers for your match simply by telling your League concierge their name with the hashtag #leaguelike, and our partners will deliver it to them same-day.

We’re not saying it’s gonna guarantee a match, a first date, or a response to your last string of awkward messages, but it may increase the odds a tiny bit, and sometimes, a tiny bit is all anyone needs!

We’re not saying it’s gonna guarantee a match, a first date, or a response to your last string of awkward messages, but it may increase the odds a tiny bit, and sometimes, a tiny bit is all anyone needs!