“It’s nice to meet you. Let’s have a glass of biodynamic wine and decide if we’d like to sleep together.” Woof. Is there anything that makes you want to unzip your skin and run into traffic more than a traditional first date? Or a T.F.D., as I’ve decided to call them, if only to make them feel slightly breezier on at least a syntactic level.
Let me answer that: There isn’t. Which might explain the rise of “dating coaches” on social media. Their credentials range from “doctorate in marriage and family therapy” to “idk I date a lot.” But what they all have in common is a dossier of tips and tricks for what to say, what to wear, and how to close the deal on a first date. And so I did what any thirtysomething woman desperate to make her dating life somewhat less miserable would do: I reloaded Bumble and put their advice to the test.
DATE ONE: David
COACH CONSULTED/TIPS EMPLOYED: All of them
To kick things off, I consult @matchmakermaria’s “Green Theory,” in which she claims that wearing green, blue, or yellow is a surefire way to attract straight men, citing a slew of follower D.M.’s swearing it worked for them. David doesn’t comment on my Kelly-green cropped tank top when I enter the restaurant, and I assume that’s because my radiance has stunned him into silence.
The barstools we sit on are backless, which makes it difficult to take @coachshanza’s advice to lean back into your feminine energy. I decide that a less literal way to apply this mildly patriarchal tip is to bring up nothing about my career. I figure he’ll ask me what I do for a living at some point, but I guess my energy is too feminine.
He also doesn’t reciprocate when, per the advice of @disadays, I ask what his love language is. His is “giving gifts,” which leads to a 20-minute story about the secret-Santa gift exchange he and his five sisters hold every Christmas. He never asks how many siblings I have (one older sister, if anyone cares), but maybe he’s just nervous. I decide I’ll take @findingmrheight’s advice and give him a second date, just in case.
But I also follow @jacoblucas101’s advice and don’t text him first. I never hear from him again. Hmm. From now on, I’ll focus on one coach per date.
DATE TWO: Keegan
COACH CONSULTED: @tinx
TIP EMPLOYED: Do first dates on FaceTime
Like all basic millennial white women, I am contractually obligated to follow @tinx. She doesn’t claim to be a dating coach specifically, but she leans hard into her follower-dubbed role as “TikTok’s big sister” and gives a lot of dating advice. She lacks whatever formal qualifications one might need to do so, but I appreciate that she’s actually a single woman in the dating trenches, as opposed to a happily married woman who met her husband in 1997.
Tinx (real name: Christina Najjar) extols the virtues of holding first dates on FaceTime, saying that if you don’t want to meet up with someone after a phone call, there’s no reason to leave your house for the date. It’s a compelling argument that aids in my desire to be bathed in the glow of my ring light at all times.
My date, Keegan, takes the call on his motion-sickness-inducing iPhone (despite having a MacBook sitting right next to him in the frame), and his Wi-Fi is abysmal. But even after rustling up a better signal, our conversation quickly lulls.
I consult my notes for a dating tip that renowned psychologist Esther Perel posted on Instagram: “Ask questions that invite stories … Instead of: ‘How long have you lived in New York?’ Try: ‘If cities were people, which one would be your best friend, which your lover, and which your long-term relationship?’” I would sooner eat my ring camera than use that specific wording, so instead I blurt out: “What’s your marry/fuck/kill for cities?” He pauses. “Did you just look up that question?” No! Of course not! What kind of loser would search “questions to ask on first dates” on TikTok?
I assuage his confusion enough to hear his answer (Austin/New York/Seattle), but he never asks me mine (New York/Tokyo/San Francisco, if anyone cares). The conversation turns to movies, and this man actually utters the sentence “I’ve gotten bored of American cinema in the last 15 years.” I’m bored with this movie, too. I close my laptop.
DATE THREE: Stephen
COACH CONSULTED: @elliotscott
TIPS EMPLOYED: Wear a dress and flats; ask nostalgic questions; be as funny as a Bond girl.
A cursory search will reveal that most social-media dating coaches are women. That’s great. Girl power! But I’m trying to date a man. I need advice from the inside. Enter @elliotscott, whose harsh takes on heterosexual relationships I have no choice but to respect. I joined an Instagram Live he hosted to ask for some first-date tips. “Things to ask? Anything nostalgic,” he replies to my posted question. “Guys like nostalgia.” Perfect—my next date is from my home state of North Carolina. We can reminisce about fried okra and humidity.
As for what to wear, “You cannot beat a dress and flats,” @elliotscott says. Easy enough. Then he gives me one last tip: Be “quick witted” and “snappy with your comebacks.” As a comedy writer who’s been friend-zoned more times than I can count, I push back: “But what do you think about being quick witted vs. ‘leaning into your feminine energy?’”
He assures me both are possible, but, “if you’re gonna do quick wit like Tina Fey… yeah, maybe not… but if you’re gonna do quick wit like… James Bond—like one of his fucking girls?,” he says, visibly titillated by the mere thought. “Just watch some James Bond films. Watch how they talk.” Between Liz Lemon and Pussy Galore, I bet you can guess whose vibe I favor.
Nevertheless, I put on a slinky dress (green, for good measure) and white sneakers (I’m doing my best) and head out to meet Stephen for happy hour. On the ride over, I watch YouTube clips of Bond girls, preparing to embody their non-threatening one-liners and sultry glances. Within minutes of sitting down with Stephen, he has touched my exposed knee twice. Hey, we’re getting somewhere!
I cutely pop a shoulder and tease him when he comments on our 12-year age difference. “Something tells me you’ve had this conversation before,” I coo. I have no idea what that means or why I said it. No Bond girl ever has or ever will. I move on to nostalgic questions, asking him what he misses most about North Carolina. This works way too well: before I can say, “I also enjoy Bojangles Bo-Berry Biscuits,” Stephen has asked me to help him write a screenplay about his boyhood antics in the South. I cannot think of anything less attractive than a man I just met asking me to help him break into the biz. I politely decline, but he keeps pressing the issue, trying to convince me how hilarious his idea is, and how my knowledge of the South makes me the perfect person to help him tell this story. With the grace of Ms. Galore, I thank him for the drink and make my exit.
DATE Four: Riz
COACH CONSULTED: @jacoblucas101
TIP EMPLOYED: Flirt using body language
I hate to set the movement back, but @elliotscott’s tips worked so devastatingly well, I decide to consult another male dating coach for my next date. As I ride the elevator to a rooftop bar, I review @jacoblucas101’s “3 Ways of How to Flirt with a Man Using Your Body Language.” One, touch his knee for three seconds as you start a conversation. Two, tilt your head and expose your neck to him. Three, touch his clothes while complimenting them.
But within seconds of meeting Riz, I realize I do not desire this particular physical touch. Ladies, you’ve been on app dates like this. There’s no sense of danger or aggression. (Settle down, everyone). The vibes just don’t match his photos or texts. He also asks me to help him write a screenplay (again?)—this time, about dueling D.J.’s. (A slightly funnier idea, but no.)
Still, I can’t let this date go to waste. I remember a question @datingcoachdiehl suggests if a date is getting boring: “What was your first impression of me on the app versus in real life?” As with Keegan, Riz is thrown by what sounds like a pre-written question, because it is one. But he still answers: “You’re more low-energy.”
I resist the urge to throw him over the side of the building, and ask him to elaborate. “I don’t know. You seemed sassy. You had, like, your tongue out on your profile.” I do have a picture on my profile where I’m sticking out my tongue, winking and doing a peace sign. That’s the most embarrassing sentence I’ve ever written. It’s not what it sounds like. It’s … I … It’s a disposable-camera photo … It’s arty. I was in London … I don’t … Just forget it. I’ll delete the picture.
While I’m at it … I’ll delete my whole account. Yes, some of these dating coaches’ tips worked. But I didn’t feel like myself using them, thereby only attracting men who didn’t feel like a match. The real me doesn’t like T.F.D.’s.
And guess what—that’s allowed. It’s not a flaw to be fixed or a muscle to be strengthened. However well intended, I suspect that most dating-coach accounts are designed to make people—mostly women—feel like they’re doing something wrong. If you just ask this question, wear this color, buy this guide, smash that follow, pay for that matchmaker, then you’ll fall in love over white wine and tater tots at this centrally located gastro pub kept in business by two-tops just like yours.
I’m not saying I’m holding my breath for a tangled-leash dog-park meet-cute. But I don’t think unnaturally quippy retorts through a Kubrick stare are the answer either. Because while all men might want to date a Bond girl, not all women want to date James Bond.
Abbey Caldwell is a Los Angeles–based TV writer
