Can a dating experiment make you fall in love?

Writer Lucy Vine attended an event that claims everyone is just 36 questions away from their soulmate. Was she?

i have not been in a room with this many awkward-looking horny people since my year 12 Valentine’s disco. And, I won’t lie, it is very exciting. I’m in a bar in East London, about to take part in a social experiment that promises to make you ‘fall in love with a stranger’. It’s based on a scientific study from more than 20 years ago, when psychologist Arthur Aron claimed he could make strangers fall in love with the help of 36 questions. The experiment ended with a wedding for the participants – and an invite for everyone in the lab. The research went viral again in 2015, when writer Mandy Len Catron tried the experiment for The New York Times and, spoiler alert, fell in love.

It all sounds incredibly romantic and, looking around me now at the nervous, haunted faces – everyone’s right-swipe fingers twitching – we are all in dire need of some of that. In the age of dating apps, we are increasingly looking for ways to connect in real life. We spend as much as 10 hours a week swiping for love, and yet research has found it makes us unhappy. Users report deeper levels of dissatisfaction with themselves and it lowers self-esteem. It’s why I’ve been single for five years and it’s why demand for tonight has been so off the chart. The organisers, from Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen, where the event is being held, have had nearly 4,000 requests for tickets, with only 200 spaces available.

As I sit down with my drink, my date arrives. He’s an overwhelming 6ft 5in to my 5ft 2in. His name is Andy, he’s 37 and he’s very handsome. He’s also immediately and immensely likeable; the type of person who laughs a lot, who listens when you talk, who actually seems interested in what you have to say. Sure, I think to myself, I could fall in love with you.

The test is waiting on the table before us: a piece of paper divided into three sets of questions. We begin awkwardly, but they are fun and thoughtful. ‘Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?’ is one. Another: ‘ Would you like to be famous? In what way?’ Or – my favourite – ‘Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?’ They are probing but enjoyable.

Things gets more uncomfortable in the second section: ‘ What is your most treasured memory?’ ‘ Your most terrible memory?’ Oh, and the potential-can-of-worms: ‘How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?’ It is tough going and I am feeling vulnerable. But that is key to this experiment. When you’re forced to show yourself like this to another person, you’re forced to trust that person. I feel safe with Andy and, boy, it’s seductive.

The third section is almost too difficult. We are both tempted to skip questions, but we don’t. They include: ‘If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?’

To end the test, we are supposed to stare at each other without speaking for four minutes. I cannot stop nervously looking away, laughing, and worrying about my wine-breath. If I were less self-conscious I think this would be very sexy. With the test done, we say our goodbyes. It’s surprisingly difficult and I don’t want him to go. I feel drained but I want to keep talking. It’s a trick, I know it’s a trick! This closeness has been manufactured! And yet… I suspect I am a little bit in love…