Sick of using your own brain to bamboozle someone into loving you? Well, one company believes they can find you someone according to your DNA.
Love, as it is said (primarily through memes the basic cover their Facebook walls with) is much like a flower which you may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same. Well, actually Helen Keller said that, and she had an over-developed sense of smell.
Sadly, for the rest of us, we have to rely on love to blind us via the bloodhound of Tinder/Grindr/Whatever. Bad dog. Actually, that’s not actually true, as one new establishment looks to take the current dating landscape and cast it into the sea. You see, no longer will we have to rely on our doctored photos, tired one-liners or how is day progressing? pomp, we’re all apparently going to matched hereon out by our DNA makeup.
So, how does it work? Well, the (obviously named) DNA Romance service asks you to commit the first verbs of your possible love by spitting in a plastic tube and mailing it to them. Their business model hinges on the theory that you produce DNA abetted chemical signals. When a potential partner detects these signals, it creates ‘chemistry’—that innate sense of connection you feel, the same that is usually manipulated by they daytime drinking they enable when they choose not to message you back immediately.
According to the website’s PR spin, after they analyse your spittle, they return your matches, presenting you with those you possess a 70% or greater genetic match with. Which, look. I’m just going to say it, the whole thing feels a bit like eugenics.
Eugenics, for those of you who missed World War Two, is the general rule that forbids one to swim in another’s gene pool. It’s not cool, although, trendy internet dating sort of is, so, who am I to judge. The articles surrounding the website claim that they’re merely using genotyping as a predictor for in-person attraction.
Which makes sense, because I have no idea what that means.
However, the question remains obvious. Do you want to be shackled to your genes, and let your ancient whims and lizard brain select your partner, or do you want to rely on your sucked-in gut and the two dad jokes you know?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to hock a loogie in a canister.