When the app I’d started turned into a huge hit, I was the king of online dating. For a while there, money and ad dollars flowed into my company’s coffers and then some. I went on the speaker circuit, talking at conferences—that’s how I heard firsthand that online dating isn’t a golden age of romance after all. Women came up to me at events and told me stories of terrible matches, dick pics, and men who scorned them for not looking like their profile pics—no matter that the guys were a ways from the college life photos they posted.
These ladies felt like trading cards, and they were tired of the online dating merry-go-round with its risks and mismatches.
There had to be a better way.
I sold Coupled to a tech giant that repurposed its platform for online commerce, and with the proceeds, I started Carpe Diem, combining an elite list of single people in a high-end setting. Everything from the drinks to the food is highly curated by me—including the entertainment. “So, what do I have to do to convince my own sister to do a set at one of my parties?”
She barks out a laugh. “Can you even imagine what people would say if I did?”
“That you have the best taste in New York venues?” I suggest. “And that I attract the top talent, from singers to comedians.”
She grabs my arm. “Dude, you are so wrong. You have this overinflated idea that every decision you make is dipped in gold, tossed in platinum, then sprinkled with diamonds.”
Huh. Sisters. They really do exist for a purpose—to put you in your place. “Well, aren’t they?”
She stares at me, dead serious, when we reach the crosswalk, and says, “Everyone would say I was there because I’m your sister.”
Straight up with no sarcasm chaser.
“I disagree,” I insist. “They’d say you were there because you’re the most talented comic in all of New York City. They’d be enthralled because you’re funny, and truly, laughter is a great way to open the doors to the heart.”
“You’re cute if you think that will work on me,” she says. “I’m immune to flattery, and I’m definitely not impressed. I remember when you were in tenth grade and stole my cucumber lime body wash before your first date with Jenna Salisbury. Used the whole bottle too.”
Sisters are the devil.
Rory taps her temple. “I’m the keeper of your other secrets too. Like the time you said you were watching a science show on PBS, but you had the kiss scene from Wild Things on repeat.”
Damn. Her memory is steel. “Point one. Denise Richards and Neve Campbell—I have no regrets. Point two. I also know things. I know you didn’t watch High School Musical for the songs like you told Mom and Dad.”
She tosses her head back as she laughs. “No one watched High School Musical for the songs, Easton. But there’s no love lost between Zac Efron and me. I’m more of a Thor gal. Or Captain America. Also, Iron Man. I just dig a salty sense of humor.”
“That’s why you should perform at my party,” I cajole. “You could meet a nice, tall, smart man for your project.” I know what my sister wants most in life.
But she shakes her head. “And that’d be a no. Let’s move on to other topics. Tell me the theme of the party this weekend.” She softens her voice for a moment. “In case you need a last-minute womanly touch.”
I do need that, but I learned a lot from working with Anna on these parties years ago. I didn’t always host my parties stag.
“I have a womanly touch,” I say. “Grandma is a great business partner. She is incredibly hip.”
“And horny.”
“Tra la a la,” I say, covering my ears.
“Do not disparage the sex drives of women over seventy-five,” Rory says. “Sex is alive and well in septuagenarians. Didn’t you see the recent Dating Pool article—”
“Anyway,” I interrupt, “the theme is ‘Old School.’ And I’ll take images from this weekend’s event to Victoire when I meet the CEO on Monday.”
“Ooh, the fancy watchmakers? They would be a great corporate partner for your romance mixers. And didn’t you just snag a fancy perfume maker?”
“That’s parfumier to you, missy. And thanks, I think so too.”
As we walk, I outline the theme of the party this weekend, and when I’ve given the rundown, Rory nods.
“I like it,” she says. “And see? All of that will help you get the media coverage you want.”
“That’s the goal. More coverage by the pubs that reach my target market and the right kind of buzz that brings in new guests. Guests who realize this is a better way to meet.”
Rory stops and reaches for my arm, halting me too. “You know, just because you had skin in the game once with your app doesn’t mean you’re responsible for the horrible experiences people have with online dating,” she says gently.