Why Dating is a Prisoner’s Dilemma
The prisoner’s dilemma is a famous illustration of game theory, in which two criminals are arrested and each is held in solitary confinement with no means of communicating with the other. The prosecutors do not have the evidence to convict the pair, so they offer each prisoner the opportunity to either betray the other by admitting to the crime, or cooperate by remaining silent. If both prisoners betray each other, each serves 10 years in prison. If one prisoner betrays the other while the other remains silent, the confessor is set free and the silent prisoner is imprisoned for life. If both remain silent, then both serve 1 year in prison. The relative payoffs look like this:
The concept of a Nash equilibrium governs the solution to this conundrum. A Nash equilibrium determines the optimal solution in which each player has nothing to gain by changing their strategy, regardless of what the other player does. Here, if Prisoner A chooses to confess, Prisoner B gets 10 years in prison by confessing and life imprisonment by staying silent, so he will always choose to confess. If Prisoner A chooses silence, Prisoner B is set free by admitting to the crime and faced with life imprisonment by lying, so he will again choose to confess. Therefore, the Nash equilibrium is for both convicts to confess and betray each other, even though mutual cooperation is an objectively better outcome.
Dating is a contemporary representation of the prisoner’s dilemma. It is a dance in which there are generally two types of arrangements: one in which individuals are playing the field and not necessarily tied solely to each other, and the other, in which individuals are in an exclusive relationship. While both can be satisfactory depending on what one seeks in his or her life stage, let’s assume that the most optimal state of being is to be in a loving, committed relationship.
However, being in a relationship relies on a mutual revelation that each has feelings for the other, and revealing one’s true state of mind can be a daunting exercise that exposes one’s vulnerabilities. If one reveals themselves genuinely, but the other decides to continue playing the field, the latter keeps the upper hand, stringing along the poor chap willing to bare their soul. If both are too afraid to reveal their true feelings, both stay in a sub-optimal state of limbo, keeping each others at arm’s length until one person inevitably loses interest. The relative payoffs for the game of dating looks similar to the prisoner’s dilemma:
If Person A chooses genuineness, Person B gets the better payoff by being a player (2,7). If Person A chooses to be a player, Person B still reaps the greater payoff by being a player (3,3). Regrettably, the Nash equilibrium here is for both sides to withhold their feelings, even when genuineness clearly produces the best output.
Technology has ushered in the normalization of Tinder and Hinge, an era in which it is all too easy to be a player. The opportunity to meet new prospects is worth as much as a drunken right swipe. Given the sheer volume of people that have become accessible and therefore mate-able, the consequences for being a player become much less palpable in the short term. As optionality has increased significantly, losing a few prospects by being a player may not be as daunting as it once was. After all, there are replacements!
Contrast this with how important proximity once was to dating. In 1932, James Bossard, a sociologist at the University of Pennsylvania, looked through five thousand consecutive marriage licenses on file for people who lived in the city of Philadelphia and found that a third of the couples who got married had lived within a five-block radius of each other before they got married. One out of six had lived within the same block. Most amazingly, one of every eight married couples had lived in the same building before they got married. Technology eliminates the need to meet someone in close distance — FaceTime has fostered and saved more than a few long distance relationships.
The vast ocean of people to meet has also had the effect of raising the bar for what is considered relationship material. In the early 1960s, a full 76 percent of women admitted they would be willing to marry someone they didn’t love. By the 1980s, 86 percent of American men and 91 percent of American women said they would not marry someone without the presence of romantic love.
So if optionality has been good, why has dating been so bad?
It is precisely that optionality is too good. It has expanded the universe of datability to an unreasonable degree, so much so that people are reluctant to approach their relationships with genuineness in favor of an impossibly high standard. The presence of something potentially better will forever be alluring. However, as we’ve learned from the prisoner’s dilemma, remaining elusive only elicits a suboptimal outcome in which there are no true winners. There must come a time in which we free ourselves from the shackles of our own expectations to live and truly love.
