The Fiction of a Perfect Match
On dating apps, checklist love, and the fictional men raising my standards.
Dating feels a lot like managing a stock portfolio, and not just because everyone on the apps works in finance. Materialists gets it.
In Celine Song’s newest film, Lucy must choose between a man who checks all of her boxes (rich, tall, Pedro Pascal) or the man who has her heart (gorgeous, charming, Chris Evans). If I were her I’d be asking if both were an option. As a matchmaker in NYC, Lucy evaluates whether two people are compatible based on hobbies, height preferences, and lifestyle choices. That mindset creeps into her own perceptions of dating, and she’s definitely not the only one.
With the rise of dating apps over the past decade, characteristics on paper have been some of the defining factors of why certain people pair up.
I was listening to Amy Poehler’s podcast episode with Dakota Johnson. While reflecting on the film, they talked about two ways people often approach finding a partner:
“[Lucy] has to kind of figure out for herself what is more important, really, truly in this life. Is it to achieve the life that you think you want? Or is it to actually be seen and loved?
Oh, of course you want to be, right? Of course you want to be seen and loved. But there is something about in life, how relationships help you get to be some version of yourself that you want.
Sometimes it's a trade-off… I feel seen and loved, but the person doesn't fit into some version of my dream life.”
One of these is more focused on the now (feeling seen and loved), and the other in the future (does this person fit into my dream life?). Both approaches have merit, which makes decision making in the dating pool that much more difficult.
Materialists reminded me of one of my favorite recent romance reads: First Time Caller by B.K. Borison. Instead of a matchmaker, we have a radio romance hotline host who dishes out dating advice despite his own stone-cold heart no longer believing in love.
Lucie (yes, coincidentally the main characters have the same name) and her daughter are living happily in Baltimore across the street from Lucie’s baby-daddy and his husband. She has accepted this life as perfect for her, but her daughter recognizes that her mama has a romantic heart not yet satisfied. Lucie’s daughter calls into a radio romance hotline in search of answers, and ends up connecting with Aiden Valentine (aforementioned hot and brooding host). Lucie isn’t looking for someone to complete her, she already has a full life. What she’s chasing is the “magic”. After one phone call, Aiden decides to help Lucie find love: bringing her on the show and letting callers pitch themselves to win her heart. Callers talk about their jobs, hobbies, how much they are obsessed with Lucie without having seen her before. Each caller lists their best traits in hopes of standing out, and scoring a date with the mystery girl.
Both Lucy and Lucie’s stories have held up a mirror to how I think about dating.
One of the questions I get the most (as a single person in New York) is: “So, how’s the dating scene?” Depending on my mood (and how bad my last date was), my answer is usually somewhere between “It’s a battlefield” and “Honestly? I’m not even looking right now.”
I’ve been focused on manifesting my dream life. That means applications, interviews, and networking, all while maintaining a social calendar, practicing self-care, and handling the adulting stuff I’d rather sweep under the bed. So my “get out there” attitude is limited, and my time even more so. Dating apps become the filter: who’s actually worth carving out time to meet? It’s hard. How do you compare a cocktail with friends to a first date that might end up as a funny story (or a horror story)? I’m still trying, but staring at a lineup of profiles, each reduced to bullet-point traits, feels limiting. If anything, it’s made me pickier.
I would rather meet someone “in the wild,” especially in a bookstore, ideally while reaching for the same novel (fingers brush, eye contact lingers, cue the romcom montage). But even then, who’s going to be the first to say hello?
Going back to Lucie and Aiden… As Aiden is helping Lucie along with her dating escapades, not only does he realize how poorly some of the so-called “perfect matches” treated her, he also realizes he wants to be the one who treats her best. He wants to be the one bringing magic to her life, or embracing the magic that was Lucie all along.
Both Aiden and Lucy have jobs that make love look like a science. And in a way, so do we. With dating apps, Excel-level filters, and endless profiles, it’s easy to forget that love isn’t about data or math, it’s about feeling. And maybe it doesn’t require checking every box. Maybe just the ones that matter.
Materialists wasn’t just an opportunity to watch two of my all-time celebrity crushes on screen (although that was a plus). It’s a reminder that love often sneaks up on us: unexpected, a little impractical, and maybe with a hint of magic. We can have expectations (and standards, absolutely) but where we end up might just surprise us.
Daisy engagement rings and all (IYKYK).
And if you ask me how the dating scene in NYC is? Well… let’s just say I’m still holding out for magic.
Materialists Girl Summer Reading List
I left the theater buzzing, fully ready to manifest my own NYC romcom/romdram. While we wait for our Pedro or Chris to show up (just… please, no monogrammed Patagonia vest), here are some books to hold you over and a playlist for your main-character montage:
Writers & Lovers by Lily King
The Rachel Incident by Caroline O’Donoghue
Happy Hour by Marlowe Granados
The Idiot by Elif Batuman
Evenings and Weekends by Oisín McKenna