We're in the age of new dating app launches—bonus points if they bring a niche or unique angle. When I got word of a dating app made for book lovers, the former literature and creative writing major in me felt seen and heard—then I anxiously reminded myself that I must improve my reading habits and make time dedicated exclusively to the ritual. Anxiety and a little bit of shame aside, I was on board even before I learned that ReadMe comes from the creators of Co-Star, the go-to astrology app for me and many others—an app that I've actually made many men download on a first date to gauge our compatibility.
ReadMe's motto is "The way you read is the way you love." So, at this stage of my life, love is something that I think about a lot and that I want, but that I avoid taking steps towards achieving. It's something that I know I enjoy, but don't engage in due to limited time and an increasing discomfort in slowing down and committing to something that might require a lot of time. I'm someone who, for better or worse, would prefer to never start something than to start something and never finish it. According to ReadMe's metaphor, at least.
How ReadMe Works
Photo: ReadMeUpon signing up for the app, you're met with a few multiple-choice prompts asking you to think about how you like to talk, listen, be with others, and think about the world. A few options that I selected about myself: comfortable with silence, pro-overthinking, fine with intensity, slow texter, decolonize everything. Then comes the fill-in-the-blank portion (what's on your nightstand? What's one book you love talking about? etc.), and the selection of your featured book to display to all (I tried my best not to overthink this or be performative and chose Famesick by Lena Dunham, the book I'm currently reading).
Lastly, you're met with a quiz that uses psycholinguistics to uncover links between how you read and how you relate. Questions like: "How do you feel about your own writing?" are interspersed with the presentation of two anonymous passages from published books and the question: "Which one do you prefer?" Then, your language preferences inform a bit of a character study which, in my experience, reads you to filth. "Your communication is motivated by the impossible hope that you will one day make perfect sense," "Some of what you project onto others is your own disavowed uniqueness," "You would do well to partner up with someone who doesn't exactly match what you think you're looking for," feeling particularly targeted and rightfully so, the last bit perfectly encapsulating a mindset that I've only very recently taken on. I'm entering this app rejecting the entire concept of "my type." After two boyfriends who were proud and shameless about not reading (one of whom is trying to be a writer, a ridiculous irony in my opinion), my only requirement is that he likes books—and the app already takes care of that.
At first, I swiped the same way I've been consuming media lately: mindlessly, impatiently, and letting my short attention span take over. I would look at the first photo listed and, if not immediately captivated, swipe through without giving the full picture a chance, like how I expect a TV show to give me a reason to keep watching within minutes. Objectively, it's an unfair and unrealistic expectation—especially when the goal is to find someone who you actually connect with.
My Final Thoughts
Photo: ReadMeWhen I slowed down my habitually speedy swiping, I took in the totality of a ReadMe profile: the books that shaped the person, the similarity percentage offered, and the bullet points curated for them ("Thinks everyone has hidden depths," "Don't touch their notebooks," "Feels personally responsible for the world," and "Remembers exactly what you said last time," being standouts for me). I remembered that this isn't just another Hinge or Bumble, and that the entire point of this app's existence is to connect through a shared interest; the experience felt more intentional—and that's how I'm trying to date.