So the other night I was at a party, talking to a friend of a friend—one of those special types of New York artists who never actually make any art. The consensus seems to be: Why go to a party that lets everyone in, when you could go to the party that accepts only a select few?I started telling The Artist about this sweet ER doctor I’d met on Tinder, when he choked on his mojito. ” He was referring to the “elite” dating app that accepts only people in creative industries, unless you’re superhot, in which case: Who cares what you do? To gain access to Raya, which launched in March of 2015, you have to apply, and then an anonymous committee assesses your creative influence—aka your Instagram—and decides whether you’re cool enough to be in the club.“I think it's good for surfer bros and models, but I don't think many people are actually dating or hooking up on Raya.To me, it felt like more people were trying to connect professionally, but in a way that felt really gross and not transparent.“If all a Raya date is going to get me is one more Instagram follower, well, I just don't need that in my life.”My experience has been somewhat similar.I’ve been on Raya for a year, but it’s the only dating app that I’ve never successfully met anyone through, compared with Tinder, Happn, and Bumble, which have all led to various degrees of dating, friendship, and casual sex.
“It’s not that I'm anti-exclusivity or against narrowing things down, but Raya just seems to attract the wrong people.
Last weekend, while drinking vodka from a water bottle on Fire Island beach, I was complaining about the pervasive Raya worship to my friend Alan, a 33-year-old filmmaker.