It is clear that incentives in commercial dating apps do not always align with the expectations of clients and society as a whole (to quickly find a spouse and never use the app again). They have to keep the business afloat somehow. What else is there to hope for if not some government uncle, a state-approved dating site, and standing in an electronic queue for a “wife voucher”? Perhaps philanthropy, as a stopgap for awkward moments in a market economy—that Musk will create a less mindless dating app for us that will get family formation and birth rates back on their feet?
Saddam Hussein’s rotating aluminum pipes
Let’s go through the problem you’ve outlined. People want to meet, and the market monetizes the fulfillment of this desire. People want to meet for different purposes and in different manners, so the market is naturally segmented.
Online dating services theoretically allow a user to quickly obtain information about people with complementary needs and to meet more purposefully. After going through enough options, a spherical client in a vacuum finds a suitable partner, after which they move to communicating via less specialized tools, leaving the dating service. This is unprofitable for the service creators; they are interested in the client returning again and again, and, of course, purchasing a premium subscription. As long as dating apps have not gone out of style, this model works quite well; people really do return. Furthermore, since the market is already quite saturated, the success of dating apps cannot be linked to simply attracting new clients; it is precisely that the use of these apps has managed to become a lifestyle for a fairly broad segment of people. I am not one of them, so I do not claim to provide a deep analysis—I am simply noting their existence.
Of course, there are those who have not succeeded in using dating apps. The reasons can vary. The most banal is that the process of meeting itself can be perceived by some people as a source of intense stress. They are not opposed to finding a partner in life, and would even settle for a fading interest after a year, after which they would need to find a new one, but they will do this as rarely as possible, and are certainly not ready for a queue of candidates from which they must choose, say, one and reject the rest. And they are even less ready for a series of rejections or being ignored. If every failed encounter becomes a reason for serious distress, then an app capable of providing dozens of such experiences a day turns out to be a hellish invention that drives a person into the depths of depression and from which one should stay far away.
Of course, psychological difficulties are not the only reason for not using fast-dating services. A person may have certain preferences regarding a prospective partner and the method of meeting them that simply do not fit into the typical application scenario of an app.
So, does it turn out that there are tons of people in the world who wish to meet, but this desire cannot be monetized through specialized mass-market apps? Yes. There are tons of people who happily buy fast food, and tons of people who do not consider this option at all because for them it is: too shabby, too expensive, too unhealthy, too anything else—in short, it doesn’t fit. But these bastards eat something! Yes, and these bastards meet somewhere, even if they don’t have a Pure account.
But the author of the question is not concerned with getting everyone hooked on fast-dating. On the contrary, they likely believe that fast-dating kills marriages, childbirth, and the replenishment of the taxpayer ranks. I find this concern baseless. Mises once wrote that it is foolish to blame an entrepreneur for producing guns instead of butter; this only means that investments in guns are more profitable. However, he will gladly switch to butter when the conjuncture changes, so it is foolish to blame him for starting wars just to sell more guns—that is the prerogative of politicians, who are, of course, always happy to blame entrepreneurs for their own ignoble dealings. And while many may wish to dispute this thesis regarding guns, claiming that dating app creators are to blame for the decline in birth rates is a bit too much. At the very least, the dates don’t match; the second demographic transition began much earlier. So this is merely a symptom: people want fast encounters—here is a service for fast encounters. People have always wanted fast encounters; they just used to pick each other up in bars or even hit on each other in the streets, and now apps have not only greatly simplified their lives but also saved a lot of people from random harassment.
OK, but people also need strong, exclusive relationships, not just fast and disposable ones, so where is the app for finding them? Why is this need not being monetized?
Fine, let me imagine how I would monetize the need for people to establish strong family relationships in the IT sphere if I had access to serious capital. I would create a service that provides a person with a personal AI advisor, which can be configured to support a certain type of relationship. To start, you simply communicate with it, send it your favorite books and movies, discuss them, tell it what you value in relationships and what you cannot stand—and this in itself is a consumer benefit, allowing one to better realize their needs and learn how to communicate them. But the assistant also communicates with other clients. At some point, it might ask, “Are you acquainted with so-and-so? Great guy, and it seems he might suit you.” You ask the assistant questions about the proposed candidate, the assistant asks questions about you, and at some point the AI confidant reports: “You know, when he read about you, he became interested, and it seems he’s not opposed to meeting. Maybe we should start a three-way chat?”
And now, you are communicating directly, but the confidant is invisibly with you, and you can still privately discuss the details of your communication with it. Then you meet, grow closer, and at some point decide to join your destinies. And here you receive an offer: why remain in the general database, wouldn’t it be better to take care of privacy? And you rent a personal server where your confidant moves with all the knowledge about you. It continues to care for the well-being of your marriage, and you continue to pay for the service. At this stage, the company no longer receives your data and limits itself to model updates and technical support.
Such a monetization model is anything but fast food. For lovers of fast dating, all this is too troublesome, expensive, and excessive. Therefore, there is no danger that you will be pushed toward people looking for a one-time hookup; on the contrary, only virtuous husband candidates. Right at this stage, one could hit their forehead and shout: “Aha, I have an excellent candidate to implement all this magnificence,” and push him toward Dobroum. But I am a libertarian, not some conservative, so let’s think further.
It may very well turn out that you prefer open relationships, or even polyamorous ones. At this point, we lose Dobroum as a potential founder of our startup, as well as the possibility of government grants. Nevertheless, I see no reason why an AI confidant could not serve cute polyamorous kittens, same-sex couples, and all others: as long as they have a need for long-term, stable, ecological relationships based on love and trust in each other, this need can be monetized using the proposed tool. But, of course, the more exotic the kitten, the harder it will be for them to find that very partner or group of partners. However, as the service grows, simply by the theory of probability, options will appear for them as well.
Thus, the market will once again make the world more beautiful.







