Being Chinese | 1 Chinese auntie, 5 apps, 60 first dates



Just before the pandemic hit, I emerged from a 10-year relationship โ€“ newly single and stuck with half a mortgage, a Brompton bike bought on an impulse and a high-maintenance ginkgo tree. After giving myself four months to recover, I bounced back into the dating world, not necessarily looking for a husband (yeah, right) but to conduct what I told myself was an anthropological experiment.

So yes, this is about dating. On Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, all while donning the armour of a Chinese diasporic auntie in sensible shoes and with 40-something hang-ups.

Too old for bars, I launched a three-pronged plan: swing dance classes (fun, but everyone was already coupled up from primary school), community centre craft sessions (mudslinging with lovely people โ€“ all born before 1955), and the intervention of meddlesome friends.

โ€œDivorce market is hot right now,โ€ said meddlesome friend E. โ€œAsian women are ageless! Just redefine โ€˜relationshipโ€™.โ€

Her bold new suggestion? An agricultural economist who did Aikido. We met โ€“ I soon ran out of Aikido-related small talk.

So I turned to dating apps. Five of them. Because I am nothing if not a pragmatic auntie maximising outcomes.

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