Friday, November 25 2022


Like Gatsby’s endless scrutiny of Daisy’s go-ahead from across the bay, the singleton’s relentless search for “the ideal” always remains out of reach (I’m a dating app evangelist — but even I’m not on Tinder anymore, August 15; Dating apps have made our love lives hell. Why do we keep using them?, August 16).

The promise exceeds what reality will deliver: the facade of beauty, wit and chemistry conjured up through our screens belies the doctored images, creeps and unrepentant bores. The collective romantic subconscious, carefully curated by Disney and Richard Curtis, cannot survive its collision with reality.

And that’s to say nothing of the ones we leave in our wake: the flattened Myrtle Wilsons and the proverbial pulpy fruit on Gatsby’s doorstep waiting for the next sweep right to slip through. Yet we continue our quest, boats against the current, hoping for a changing tide despite all evidence to the contrary. We continue to search for music and magic undeterred, constantly brought back to the (dated) past.
Vicky Small
Sale, Greater Manchester

Justin Myers is obviously an attractive young man (Grindr is the daddy of today’s dating apps – it wasn’t just about simpler dating, Aug 18). However, thousands of gay men and women are over 60. Many live well outside the big cities. I don’t have a smartphone.

When a friend told me he had joined Grindr, I asked him to show me who was within 20 miles of my home in rural France: just one (rather unsuitable) person.

Within a 30 mile radius there were a few others, in a big city – all young men who wanted quick sex and weren’t ready to go to the sticks for an eroto-cultural soiree and maybe be a breakfast.
Antoine Weir
Caylus, France

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