5. "Look In The Census Reports For Places With The Most Single Men."
Notes on catfishing and Mary Tyler Moore.
This is the story of how I catfished the men of Minnesota.
Before anyone freaks out or calls Nev Schulman, relax. I didn’t pretend to be a Princess from an ambiguous European country in desperate need of $10,000, I didn’t google “woman stock photo beautiful” and use the first six hits to create a Tinder profile for “Monica,” and I didn’t lie about basic personal details to make myself a more attractive match to the general swiping public. I didn’t lie about anything, except for one teeny tiny thing: my location.
Upon reaching item #5, my first instinct was to take the task at face value. The list said to look in the census reports for places with the most single men, so I looked in the census reports for places with the most single men. Although unsure of what – or where – exactly this directive would lead, I was intrigued by the idea. Partly because no matter what city they’re in, all single folks lament that “dating is impossible here.” I’ve heard the sentiment echoed by friends from New York to Los Angeles, Traverse City to Austin. It’s a nationwide woe.
So I researched recent census reports, eager to zero in on which locale boasts the most singles. One place popped up over and over and over again: Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Immediately, my mind swung to The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Set in Minneapolis, the beloved series followed Mary Richards (played by the iconic Mary Tyler Moore), a 30-year-old single gal focused on building her career and owning her independence.
Interestingly, Mary Tyler Moore – the actor – rose to fame on The Dick Van Dyke Show, where she portrayed Laura, the young wife of comedy writer Rob Petrie (Dick Van Dyke). The show made MTM a star, lauded for her comedic talent and spunky personality. But all of it was centered around her role as the wife, the mother, the neighbor, the homemaker. The show premiered in 1961, and if I had to guess, Laura Petrie would have loved the original “129 Ways to Get a Husband.” Hell, she might have even used it.
Mary Richards, on the other hand, would have probably thrown the magazine out the window. The protagonist of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, which ran from 1970 to 1977, spent the bulk of the series cultivating personal and professional relationships. The show begins on the heels of our heroine’s broken engagement as she leaves her old life behind to start anew in Minneapolis. There, Mary gets her own apartment and a job at the local news station. Fun fact: Ed Asner, otherwise known as SANTA FROM ELF, plays her boss.
I rewatched a few episodes of Mary Tyler Moore and reveled in the brilliance of the character and the comedy. It’s not that Mary Richards is a spinster or vehemently against the prospect of a partner. Over the course of the series, Mary actually has many boyfriends – she just never needs them. As a result, her character became a role model for a generation of young women (and men!) and proved that being independent, confident, witty, and fearless is something to be celebrated, not ashamed of.
But the rewatch also made me experience a moment of horror. In the shadow of Mary Richards, I questioned my list project. Would she find this trite? Frivolous? Or would she enjoy the adventure?
Eh, I think she’d appreciate it. At her core, Mary Richards was curious. Curious about who she could be, and what her life could look like, if she took a risk. She was not afraid to follow a story wherever it may lead.
And this is that: a story I have to see through.
In the case of the singles census, all signs pointed to the Twin Cities. Unfortunately, one cannot simply “up and move'' to Minneapolis (despite that being the exact inciting incident of The Mary Tyler Moore Show). Somehow, I would have to go to Minnesota… without actually going to Minnesota?
I kicked myself when I realized it would have to be virtually. Ugh! The point of this project is to get off of my phone, not further on it. But as reticent as I am to resort to apps, this felt like a proper use case. So I opened Hinge and changed my location from Brooklyn… to the North Loop (which is, according to extrastoragespace.com, one of the top places for young adults in Minneapolis).
Okay, it turns out I am a BIG DEAL in the Twin Cities.
In New York I am gutter trash, but in Minneapolis? I am hot shit. Within the first 24 hours of my virtual relocation, my phone had blown up with likes. The Hinge app was slinging notifications like a slot machine informing me I’d just won the jackpot. Cue flashing red lights and dancing dollar bills, because I had hit it big.
Unsure what to do with my newfound bounty, I watched and waited, letting the matches pile up for three days before I dove in.
My initial plan was just to engage in a few thoughtful discussions about dating with several single fellas. I was going to tell them right off of the bat: “I don’t live here, I’m working on a project, would you talk to me?” I even included a tidbit of the census data on my profile to spark a conversation.
Again, it was not my intention to defraud a city of eligible bachelors. But to quote Robert Burns, “the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
I guess that makes me a mouse in the company of men.
My first few matches deleted me within minutes of this confession. Shocking – I guess most people on a dating app are not there to discuss census data with a Brooklyn-based writer unavailable for any kind of in-person relationship.
Take two! I next decided to only engage with those who immediately bit at the prompt. We would discuss dating without me giving away my true location. Then, when the conversation took a turn for the romantic, I’d reveal my reality: I don’t live in Minneapolis.
So yeah, this was catfishing, but only for a brief bait and always with honesty at the end of the line.
To say these conversations were revealing would be an understatement. I was shocked and touched at the raw responses received. I heard everything from “it’s too competitive” to “everyone is looking for the next best thing” to “women want alpha males and hunters.” And a larger theme quickly emerged: ratio or not, people are lonely and these apps only exacerbate the emotion.
Being single often feels like existing in a vacuum. It’s easy to believe you're the only one in your predicament, marooned on an island in a sea of happily partnered people. Singledom can breed an incredibly selfish state of mind.
Out of respect for those who shared their thoughts, I’m only including phrases and conversation highlights. But I do want to note this particular message from a person I am lovingly dubbing “Minneapolis Man.”
That last bit? Woof. That hit where it hurt.
“I prefer online to in person” was the exact answer I’d hoped to never read. Here was a guy telling me that despite the competition, despite the soulless swiping nature of the next best thing, he preferred apps to meeting someone in the wild. In one swift sentence, Minneapolis Man negated the entire thesis of my project.
I wrestled with that reality. Then, I was hit by an even worse realization.
The thing about being hot shit in the Twin Cities is that I got a lot of likes. By my estimation, it was several hundred in a week. And I wanted to check, because the number astounded me. But when I went to Hinge to look for my total number of matches, I found that I wasn’t able to access that information.
Unless I paid for it.
Look, paying for dating apps is hardly a new concept. I’m not ashamed to admit subscribing to Raya (clout), and I’ve had plenty of friends purchase a membership to up their chances on the various platforms. But for as long as I’ve been on the apps, it has never seemed like a disadvantage to swipe for free. Sure, a fee offers more premium options and access to certain apps, but the field has always felt relatively democratic… like it’s anyone’s game.
I blinked and missed it, because those days are long gone. It appears that every single app has rolled out a subscription plan which rewards those willing to pay a price for partnership. Don’t get me wrong, you can still use a free model on most, but the options are now restricted. Certainly the algorithmic Gods are at work, manipulating matches and dangling desperation just high enough that swipers have no choice but to subscribe.
There’s a running joke on TikTok that Hinge’s “Most Compatible” feature – which allegedly uses data to determine who you’re best suited to – is actually designed to make you feel downright terrible about yourself. I can’t argue, as I’ve personally been told that my ideal mate is Ed, a 39-year-old Trump voter on Long Island whose job is simply “America.” I wish I was kidding.
And okay, maybe I’m not being open-minded. But, really? Ed is my perfect person?!
It’s hard not to be cynical of a system that has increasingly revealed itself to be a game in which you’re betting against the dealer, and the house will always win. At some point these apps got the upper hand, and a photo on a phone became the main way to meet someone. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with this method; it’s great when it works. Apps open us up to new circles, new people, new possibilities. For some people, like Minneapolis Man, they might even be preferable.
But as these platforms become increasingly tiered and data-based and more and more barriers to entry are introduced, I worry that modern romance has been commodified and effectively killed by capitalism. Swiping for someone now feels like playing Candy Crush: addicting, never-ending, and expensive.
So where do I go from here? What do I do with this information? At the bare minimum, I have gained an incredible amount of empathy for not only the men of Minnesota, but also every single person out there, trying their hardest and wearing their hearts on their sleeves – digital or real – to find their partner. Being single is a solo activity, but we are far from alone in the struggle.
Number 5 left me with mixed feelings on how to approach dating. On the one hand, the commoditization of dating apps makes me indignant. I find myself more determined than ever to finish all 129 items on the list, curious to see what else this exploration will reveal. But on the other hand, and as much as I want to rebel against the allure of the apps, I feel no choice but to comply. After my catfishing concluded, I changed my Hinge back to Brooklyn. I’m actively seeing several people I’ve met from a match. What can I say? A girl’s gotta eat.
As for Mary Richards, I wonder what she’d think of the new dating game. She’d probably make the best of it. Get a glass of wine and sit on the couch with her best friends Rhoda (Valerie Harper) and Phyllis (Cloris Leachman) and laugh at the absurdity of it all. That’s kind of all we can do, isn’t it?
A note on publish schedule
Unfortunately I cannot work a full-time job and finish a play about underwater ghosts AND churn one of these out per week. So for the time being, expect these essays EVERY OTHER FRIDAY.
Also hey! If you have thoughts about anything I’ve written, I’d love to hear them.