The Daily Telegraph

Are women being shortchang­ed by dating services?

Millions are paying elite matchmakin­g agencies to help find them love. But at what cost, asks Rosa Silverman

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‘Idon’t care too much for money, money can’t buy me love,” trilled The Beatles in 1964. Their words have been quoted by a High Court judge in an ongoing four-year legal dispute brought by Tereza Burki, who begs to differ. Burki, a City financier living in London’s Belgravia, is suing Seventy Thirty, a Knightsbri­dge-based elite matchmakin­g service, for her £12,600 annual fee, accusing them of failing to connect her with the man of her dreams.

In a further twist, the agency – which takes its name from the work-life balance of its high-flying clientele – is counter-suing the 47-year-old Dutch mother-of-three for defamation, after she allegedly labelled its service a “scam” online.

If you are wondering why anyone would hand over such a sum for the promise of a happy ever after, you’re probably not alone. Yet neither are the likes of Burki. Each year, millions of people shell out thousands of pounds to elite matchmakin­g agencies for access to an exclusive pool of singles who they hope are equally serious about finding love – and have the means to pay for it. It is about as far as you can get from the likes of Tinder, whose users pay nothing to swipe through a continuum of men and women.

In exchange for their cash, the (generally wealthy) singleton can expect to receive a service that takes account of their personalit­y, preference­s and lifestyle, and matches them with a range of potentiall­y suitable partners in a similar socioecono­mic bracket.

Burki was seeking a high-earning internatio­nal jet-setter open to having children with her. But having paid thousands to join, she told the court, she didn’t want to be matched to men who had not paid a penny, were less likely to be committed to finding a partner, and might not be as well-off as they said.

Her claim echoes those of other unhappy female customers, who claim matchmakin­g agencies have an eligible-men drought – and sign up unsuitable suitors at reduced rates simply to make up the numbers.

Last year, EX-QVC executive Darlene Daggett, 63, reached a financial settlement with California­n dating service Kelleher Internatio­nal, after spending $150,000 (£115,000) signing up for “CEO level” membership. Documents filed by her lawyer in a federal court included the allegation that the “highly screened” matches “included men who were married, mentally unstable, physically ill, pathologic­al liars, serial Lotharios, stalkers, convicted felons, and men unwilling or unable to travel and/or the subject of profession­al sanctions”.

In the UK, Citizens Advice helped with 300 complaints about dating agencies last year, the majority of which related to substandar­d services and breaches of contract. Many more dissatisfi­ed customers are thought to go under the radar, too embarrasse­d to complain.

Esther Povey is among those who have openly accused a dating agency of not delivering the service it promised, having paid £2,950 to Attractive Profession­als, an “exclusive introducti­on agency” in 2013. She claimed the agency did not have enough suitable men on its books – she was offered an introducti­on to the same man twice, after he turned her down the first time – and that she was told by another “match” that he had paid just £400 to join because “they needed more men his age”.

Responding to the criticism last year, Attractive Profession­als said its business model had changed in the years since Povey was a member. Lorraine Marlow, its director, said it tried “really hard to offer a good service in what can be a very challengin­g business”, and claimed all introducti­on agencies that dealt with profession­als had “to offer reduced or free membership to men, because they’ll receive many more inquiries”, but denied that there were not enough men on the books and that the agency had made “false promises”.

There are eligible men out there. Towards the end of last year, Jonathan Farnham, a 68-year-old retired IT consultant from southeast England, signed up with Drawing Down the Moon, whose packages start from £7,000, after growing fed up with online dating where “most often you didn’t get what it said on the tin”. Since paying what he described as a “not insignific­ant” sum, he has been matched with six women and, though yet to find The One, speaks positively of the experience.

“I’ve had some good introducti­ons,” he says. “I’ve got no complaints at all about the matches. With this agency you can be sure you’ll get someone presentabl­e, personable, who’s been checked out and is in my socioecono­mic range.”

Author Daniel Pembrey is less enthused about his experience. Approachin­g 40, and having returned to Britain after a decade working abroad for an internet company, he decided to throw money at the problem of finding love. “Old friends had paired off, the university-based social scene suddenly wasn’t so fluid, and online dating didn’t appeal,” he says. He joined an introducti­on agency that was “no fly-by-night operator. It had been in business for years and was a prominent member of the Associatio­n of British Introducti­on Agencies, an industry body intended to uphold standards”.

The agency required a payment of £6,000. “The fee is payable in full upfront – something I struggled with, and only agreed to on the grounds that it would be a small price to pay for meeting that ‘someone special’. The theory of introducti­on agencies is to involve a matchmaker who will meet with you in person at least once and understand the type of match you’d realistica­lly like to make. Usually there is an agreed minimum number of introducti­ons – 12 in my case. The reality, for clients, is a lottery.

“I met several nice women, had pleasant conversati­ons, saw a couple of people afterwards as friends and tried to forget about one or two dates. None of my introducti­ons resulted in a relationsh­ip, much less marriage. The people I met were comparable in range and number to an evening of profession­als speed dating (which surprised me when I gave it a go).”

The speed dating, he adds, cost £25. Then again, as he points out, the money he paid “turns out to be at the low end of the range for Londonbase­d agencies; others now charge as much as £30,000”.

“I couldn’t recall ever feeling more short-changed, and was left wondering how the female clients felt – they tend to outnumber men at such agencies, and pay more.” Pembrey says there are various theories as to why this might be. “One being that women are more willing to invest significan­tly in finding the right life partner, another being the perception of a depleted pool of eligible men in other walks of life. A third theory has to do with the comfort factor of finding male matches financiall­y ‘pre-qualified’ in a city as pricey as London.”

There are services such as Berkeley Internatio­nal – a “specialist elite dating agency” launched 15 years ago for “discerning and affluent members” – where fees start at £15,000 plus VAT, for which clients receive introducti­ons to “other eligible profession­als”. Described by Harper’s Bazaar as “the anti-tinder”, its clients can, depending on their level of membership, be flown off for a date with someone in New York, Paris, Milan or Melbourne by the agency’s own flight centre.

This is, after all, among the main attraction­s of joining an exclusive service: putting clear blue water between yourself and the penniless chancers you might otherwise be matched with. There is also a sense that if someone is willing to stump up vast payments, they must at least be serious about settling down.

Graham Jones, an internet psychologi­st who specialise­s in the understand­ing of online behaviour, says: “The person who’s spending lots of money is obviously hoping that’s going to provide them with the person of their dreams, and are assuming the service is going to be much better than what they would get from a normal dating service or app.”

The trouble is, the dating industry is largely unregulate­d, and precisely why thousands of pounds are required for some services is not always made clear.

Pembrey has some advice: “My recommenda­tion is to focus on the activities you naturally enjoy doing anyway, which make you happy and at ease. I found my match doing yoga when I wasn’t even looking. You might be pleasantly surprised.”

‘The fee was payable upfront – something I struggled with’

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 ??  ?? Unhappy ending: Tereza Burki, above, who is suing an elite matchmakin­g agency for failing to find her the man of her dreams
Unhappy ending: Tereza Burki, above, who is suing an elite matchmakin­g agency for failing to find her the man of her dreams
 ??  ?? Thandie Newton dates Gerard Butler in Rocknrolla, left. Above, Daniel Pembrey
Thandie Newton dates Gerard Butler in Rocknrolla, left. Above, Daniel Pembrey

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