Remember when everyone was moving to Alaska? Okay, maybe no one actually was moving, but bachelorettes all over the country were joking about relocating to Juneau or Sitka because, according to those morning show polls, that's where all the men were. Well, now that distinction seems to have been bestowed upon Silicon Valley. Last year, it had the highest ratio of single guys to single women in the country. And I'm not going to pretend it didn't hold sway in my decision to move here from Manhattan eight months ago. After all, I've never been much into jocks and always would rather date a dude in a hoodie than one in a pinstripe suit. Plus, as a former New Yorker with a strong sense of style, I thought to myself, I would have the upper hand. While there are a lot of attractive options out here who match my type—smart, dark, slightly scruffy, maybe wearing glasses and a decent pair of jeans—very few of them seem to know how to make eye contact with a girl, even fewer know how to talk to her. So, like the rest of the world, I joined , , and a brand new app called The League. I even connected with a matchmaker. Dating in Silicon Valley is different, I found. Here is how: The odds are good, but the goods are odd. People love to say this about the singles scene in Silicon Valley. It may interest you to find out that I invented the iPhone. More accurately I was an engineer on the original iPhone…I can show you all the new stuff since you were last here. When we agreed to meet for a drink, I was imagining some sort of swarthy Latin or Italian lover. What walked into the bar, however, was a scrawny, five foot eight YouTube programmer in a hoodie. After one cocktail, I gave him a ride home, and when we got to his apartment, he leaned over the passenger seat for a hug. It was too late. Money is an object. At the time I thought his demonstration was gauche, but I soon realized the bid was small potatoes. Do you know how hard it is to find a wingwoman to go to Cupertino, an hour drive from San Francisco, at 4:30 p. My female friends have office jobs. I went by myself, and arrived to find a cavernous restaurant with a long bar, half a dozen booths and ten or so two-tops, not counting the enormous dining area. As Amy promised, it was extraordinarily packed for 5 p. I put my laptop on the table and futzed around on my phone look at how tech I am! The joint continued to fill up with more men—and some women—huddled in their own cliques. Again, as advertised, there were plenty of men, and women too, but the idea of table-hopping or striking up conversation seemed inappropriate. Plus, all the guys I felt attracted to were wearing wedding rings. Maybe all these elusive single men are single for the simple reason that they never go out. Both of these scenes were incredibly intimidating. I actually am not a tech person. Still, dating is dating, no matter where you are. In the end, what I learned is that dating in Silicon Valley is no easier than it is anywhere else. Maybe the only way to find love in a city so driven by science and analytics is by keeping the faith. Emily Holt is a freelance fashion and lifestyle writer living in San Francisco. The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached, or otherwise used, except with the prior written permission of Condé Nast.
