A year later, Altfest and Ross had a prototype, which they called Project , an acronym for Technical Automated Compatibility Testing—New York City’s first computer-dating service. She was the station’s first female reporter, and she had chosen, as her début feature, a three-part story on how New York couples meet.
Each client paid five dollars and answered more than a hundred multiple-choice questions. (A previous installment had been about a singles bar—Maxwell’s Plum, on the Upper East Side, one of the first that so-called “respectable” single women could patronize on their own.) She had planned to interview Altfest, but he was out of the office, and she ended up talking to Ross.
A common complaint shared by seasoned online daters who have tried various dating sites is that, rarely do the multitude of matchmaking services live up to their claims.
For a monthly fee, dating sites claim they'll do the math for you and spit out your soul mate in return.
the fall of 1964, on a visit to the World’s Fair, in Queens, Lewis Altfest, a twenty-five-year-old accountant, came upon an open-air display called the Parker Pen Pavilion, where a giant computer clicked and whirred at the job of selecting foreign pen pals for curious pavilion visitors. Within a year, more than five thousand subscribers had signed on. It would invite dozens of matched couples to singles parties, knowing that people might be more comfortable in a group setting. They wound up in the pages of the New York subscriber.
Men were asked to rank drawings of women’s hair styles: a back-combed updo, a Patty Duke bob.
Since the rise of online dating over the past decade, many dating websites have come and gone.
Hang on a minute, wasn't online dating designed to reduce the complexities of finding a partner in the first place?
Technology and competition for this lucrative market has made a mockery of it.