THE SUM OF OUR LOVE

HOW A MATHEMATICAL APPROACH TO FINDING LOVE ADDED UP TO THE PERFECT EQUATION

When I became single in my mid-20s, I decided to get serious about dating. The rest of my life was great: I had a successful career, friends who made me laugh, and I’d just come back from a three-month backpacking holiday.

My Type A personality and obsession for planning stuff helped me achieve life goals. But this is probably why my last relationship failed. My ex avoided responsibility, and he affectionately called me “the spreadsheet queen”.

When my friend’s mum told me that dating was about maths, I was totally interested. This seemed sensible, even though her theory was ridiculously simple: “meet as many people as possible, as quickly as possible.”

Quite a few mathematicians have shared their opinions on dating. Some say you should reject the first 37 per cent of all the dates you expect to go on (but what if you meet “the one” on your second date?). The dating site OkCupid was founded by mathematicians, and mathematician Chris McKinlay wrote a book about hacking into the site to find his wife.

My friend’s mum didn’t have a degree in maths. Neither did I. All we wanted to do was bring some basic logic to the emotional merry-go-round of online dating. Almost everyone who has tried it has become fed up and deleted their profile, even if they crawled back to try again a few weeks later.

When my friend’s mum said “meet lots of blokes”, she meant meet them face-to-face. My ultimate goal was to find a husband, get married and have babies. I needed to meet as many potential candidates as quickly as possible, not waste my time chatting and sending late-night sexts.

I went on more than 50 dates over several years, across several cities. I also screened zillions more guys on the internet and phone. Each one went through my selection process, until I finally met the guy I’m now married to.

I went through them like a production line. Read profile, send message, talk on phone, coffee on Saturday. The day I met my future husband, I had three dates booked in on the same day and had to rush between them.

In my mind, I always heard the words “as many as possible, as quickly as possible”.

I had a checklist of red flags. When a red flag popped up, I moved on to the next guy. I rejected and blocked systematically, and probably offended some lovely dudes by ghosting them.

Being a writer, I judged men by how they wrote their profiles. I wanted someone who was confident but not arrogant. I couldn’t accept any odd use of language. In chat, one guy asked, “do you enjoy outdoor pursuits?” His language was too formal so our conversation ended there.

I was relaxed about age until a nice 21year-old cancelled our first date. He apologised profusely, but his mum wouldn’t let him go. “I haven’t finished my chores,” he said.

An older man confessed something just before we met. “I’m deeply in love with my mother,” he said. He wanted me to know she would always be his number one lady. Hmmm … I cancelled our date.

I never went on dates expecting to meet “the one”. To me, they were just coffee with someone I hadn’t met before. I enjoyed meeting different people and made friends along the way — people I wouldn’t have met otherwise.

Soon after turning 30, I met Nat at a crowded Italian cafe. I was surprised that he immediately recognised me from my profile photo and seemed happy to be there. He was a tradie who liked fishing, and was in his early 40s but didn’t have children yet (very rare!).

We met again two days later and haven’t spent many nights apart since. About three years ago we got married, and we now have a beautiful daughter. He really is the perfect dad.

After at least 50 failed dates (maybe it was 100 — despite being into numbers I stopped counting), what makes him different? He’s a good friend and wants to spend all of his time with me. We both want the same things from life.

Thanks to my friend’s mum, I learned that dating isn’t about luck. It’s about numbers. Grit and determination are helpful too.

Without her advice I would have given up way too early. I’m glad I didn’t.