The Red Flags of Romantic Chemistry

David Robson in The Guardian




 
For centuries, our romantic fates were thought to be written in the stars. Wealthy families would even pay fortunes to have a matchmaker foretell the success or failure of a potential marriage.

Despite the lack of any good evidence for its accuracy, astrology still thrives in many lifestyle magazines, while the more sceptical among us might hope to be guided by the algorithms of websites and dating apps.

But are these programs any more rigorous than the signs of the zodiac? Or should we put our faith in love languages and attachment theory? (That’s to name just two fashions in pop psychology.)

The world of matchmaking is riddled with myths and misunderstandings that recent science is just starting to unravel. From the inevitably messy data, a few clear conclusions are emerging that can help guide us in our search for love.

If you are looking for the secrets of romantic success, the most obvious place to start would seem to be the science of personality. If you are an outgoing party animal, you might hope to find someone with a similar level of extraversion; if you are organised and conscientious, you might expect to feel a stronger connection with someone who enjoys keeping a rigid schedule.

The scientific research does offer some support for the intuitive notion that “like attracts like”, but in the grand scheme of things, the similarity of personality profiles is relatively unimportant.

“Yes, it is true that people are more likely to experience chemistry with someone who is similar to them in certain ways,” explains Prof Harry Reis at the University of Rochester, New York. “But if I brought you in a room with 20 people who are similar to you in various ways, the odds that you’re going to have chemistry with more than one of them are not very good.” It is only the extreme differences, Reis says, that will matter in your first meetings. “It’s not likely that you would have chemistry with somebody who is very dissimilar to you.”

The rest is just noise. The same goes for shared interests. “The effects are so tiny,” says Prof Paul Eastwick at the University of California, Davis.

Eastwick found similarly disappointing results when he looked at people’s “romantic ideals” – our preconceived notions of the particular qualities we would want in our dream partner. I might say that I value kindness above all other qualities, for instance, and you might say you are looking for someone who is adventurous and free-spirited.

You’d think we’d know what we want – but the research suggests otherwise. While it’s true that certain qualities, such as kindness or adventurousness, are generally considered to be attractive, experiments on speed-daters suggest that people’s particular preferences tend to matter very little in their face-to-face interactions. Someone who stated that they were looking for kindness, for example, would be just as likely to click with someone who scored high on adventurousness – and vice versa. Despite our preconceptions, we seem open to a wide variety of people showing generally positive attributes.

“We can’t find evidence that some people really weigh some traits over others,” Eastwick says. He compares it to going out to a restaurant, ordering a specific dinner, then swapping food with the table next to yours. You’re just as likely to enjoy the random dish as the one you’d originally ordered. 

Given this growing body of research, Eastwick is generally very sceptical that computer algorithms can accurately match people for chemistry or compatibility. Working with Prof Samantha Joel at Western University in Canada, he has used a machine learning program to identify any combinations of traits that would predict mutual attraction.

Each participant completed a 30-minute survey, with detailed questions about their personality traits, their physical attractiveness, their political and social values and their dating preferences (whether they were looking for a fling or a long-term relationship). “It was very much a ‘kitchen-sink’ approach,” says Eastwick. The researchers then put the participants on blind dates and questioned them about whether they were likely to hook up afterwards.

Pubgoers at a speed-dating event in 2021. Experts find that we bin our romantic ideals at such gatherings. Photograph: Alberto Pezzali/AP

Surprise, surprise? The algorithm could accurately pick out the participants who were generally considered to be more attractive to a larger number of people. And it could pick out those who were generally less picky and more open to second dates with a larger number of people. On predicting the particular level of attraction between two specific people, however, it performed no better than chance. There was no magic formula that could ensure a sizzling first date.

Most dating apps and websites keep the details of their algorithms secret, but Eastwick thinks it is unlikely that these companies have stumbled upon some secret that is missing from the psychological literature. Indeed, he suspects that romantic attraction may be an inherently “chaotic” process that inherently defies accurate prediction. 

Reis is similarly downbeat about the chances of algorithms correctly predicting the prick of Cupid’s arrow. “The evidence that they have is very, very low-quality work.” In his opinion, these apps may rule out the people with the most extreme differences in personality and interest – but beyond that, it’s largely chance.

According to psychological research, we are much more likely to be swayed by the flow of the conversation and people’s nonverbal cues. “It’s whether the other person is smiling at the right moments, whether they’re really listening and showing that they understand what you’re saying,” says Reis. That’s impossible to gauge before the encounter from data gathered in a survey.

An additional problem is that the questions on a survey are necessarily rather abstract; they can’t capture the tiny details of someone’s life that might promote bonding. You might not bond over a general love of travel, but your mutual love of a particular location that you just happen to mention in your conversation. You might even start out with differences, but then change your mind on a certain topic as your date persuades you to see things their way – a process of reaching a joint understanding could provide the point of connection. “No algorithm is going to be able to tell us that’s going to happen ahead of time,” says Eastwick.

Even after couples have started dating, it can be tricky to work out which relationships will last in the long term. Analysing data from more than 11,000, Eastwick and Joel found that someone’s perception of their partner’s commitment was far more important than particular personality traits in determining their satisfaction in the relationship.

If you are au fait with self-help literature, you might have come to believe that “attachment styles” might explain your relationship woes. These are supposed to describe different ways of forming relationships with others, based on someone’s childhood experiences with their caregivers. The terms are fairly self-explanatory – you can have “secure”, “avoidant” or “anxious” attachment styles. You will find articles arguing that someone who has an anxious attachment style may find that an avoidant partner only exacerbates their insecurities.

Eastwick and Joel’s data suggest that attachment styles do play some role in people’s relationship quality. Even so, we must be careful not to overexaggerate their influence on our romantic fates. Prof Pascal Vrtička, a social scientist at the University of Essex, points out that our attachment styles can change with time. With the right partner, someone might move from anxious to secure, for instance. “It might take some time to lose some of your insecurity, but it is possible.” Once again, our attachment styles are one factor in a dynamic process, rather than determining the health of our relationships from the very beginning.

Evidence suggests that dating app algorithms produce rudimentary matches. Photograph: Koshiro K/Alamy

The same can be said of “love languages”. While people’s style of expressing affection and appreciation for their partner – whether we prefer praise, or gifts, or hugs and kisses to show our affection – can influence a couple’s initial compatibility, it is possible to adapt and change over time.

Ultimately, our beliefs about relationships and the ways they ought to progress may be just as important as the initial compatibility of any two people. Our love lives, like so many areas of health and wellbeing, are the subject of expectation effects.

To get a flavour of this research, consider the following statements:

Potential relationship partners are either compatible or they are not

Relationships that do not start off well inevitably fail

And

The ideal relationship develops gradually over time

A successful relationship evolves through hard work and the resolution of incompatibilities

People who endorse the first two statements are said to have a “romantic destiny” mindset, while those who endorse the last two statements are said to have a “romantic growth” mindset. (Some people will fall in between – they might believe that relationships need to start out well, but that they can also develop over time.)

In general, people with the romantic destiny mindset will place more importance on the initial chemistry of the first encounter and if that goes well, they may be quick to fall in love. But they do not cope well with disagreements and may lose interest as potential incompatibilities come to light and may even engage in toxic behaviours to extricate themselves. Recent research suggests that people with the destiny mindset are more likely to “ghost” partners, for example. Those with the romantic growth mindset, on the other hand, tend to work harder to cope with the challenges, rather than looking to start again whenever differences come to light.

That’s the romantic side. Prof Jessica Maxwell, a social psychologist at McMaster University in Ontario, Canada, and colleagues have found similar patterns of behaviour in the bedroom. People with a “sexual destiny mindset” endorse statements such as:

If sexual partners are meant to be together, sex will be easy and wonderful


It is clear right from the start how satisfying a couple’s sex life will be over the course of their relationship

Maxwell’s studies show that people with these kinds of beliefs can fare very well, but they tend to be fatalistic if issues emerge. People with a sexual growth mindset, however, are more proactive about navigating their disappointments and looking for ways to improve their own and their partner’s satisfaction.

Research shows that shared interests only give a minor boost to romantic chemistry. Photograph: Dmytro Sidelnikov/Alamy

Some relationships, however, are best left on the scrapheap; even those with a growth mindset need to acknowledge when things simply aren’t going to work out. And if there is no chemistry on a first date, there is no need to put yourself through another excruciating encounter.

But we should also be wary of having too many fixed preconceptions. Whether you are focused on finding someone with a particular profession, personality profile or planetary alignment, overly rigid ideas can blind you to the potential in the people around you.

If the science tells us anything, it is that love is inherently unpredictable. In matters of the heart, we should always be prepared to be surprised.

How Astrology Fools Millions of Indians

 

Predictions for Taliban, China & the Future of the World | Narasimha P.V.R. Rao

 

I was an astrologer – here's how it really works, and why I had to stop

Customers marvelled at my psychic abilities but was that really what was going on when I told their fortune? asks Felicity Carter in The Guardian 

 

‘It turned out what most people want is the chance to unload for an hour.’ Photograph: Fiorella Macor/Getty Images

The man was agitated, with red-rimmed eyes and clammy skin.

“Help me,” he said. “I’m under a curse.”

At first it was just flickering lights, he said. And then a figure, at the edge of his vision. Now something grabbed his fingers or stroked his arm. There was more – and it was happening more frequently.

“I saw a Catholic priest,” said the man. “But he couldn’t help. Can you?”

Yes, yes I could. I knew exactly what he needed to do.

I was a fortune teller. Every Sunday, I climbed the stairs of an old terrace house in Sydney’s historic Rocks district, to sit in the attic and divine the future. I would read Tarot cards or interpret horoscopes.

As a teenager, I’d devoured a book called Positive Magic. An instruction manual for witches, its central idea was that if you wanted something, and you had good intentions, you just told the universe and magic would happen. Although nothing I wanted (fame, money, hot boyfriend) actually arrived, one thing led to another and I taught myself to read Tarot cards. At the time I was a science student, and just considered it a fun game at parties.

That changed after I took my cards to my part-time job and read them for a colleague during the break. She picked the card for pregnancy, which we laughed about, because she wanted her tubes tied.

A week later she said, “Guess what the doctor told me this morning?”

She was pregnant, and I was officially psychic.

Deciding to develop my gift, I enrolled in a psychic class, where I learned to say the first thing that popped into my head. “Your first thoughts are the most psychic ones, before your rational mind interferes,” said the teacher.

I also learned that all things are connected, and everything is a symbol of something else. Suddenly, I saw signs and omens everywhere.

FacebookTwitterPinterest ‘The range of problems faced by people who can afford $50 for fortune telling turned out to be limited: troubles with romance, troubles at work, trouble mustering the courage for a much-needed change.’ Photograph: Busà Photography/Getty Images

To test my new skills, I volunteered to be a clairvoyant at the spiritualist church. Congregants would place a flower on the table, and the clairvoyants would choose one and “read” it at the microphone. Nervous, the first thing I grabbed was a packet of silver foil. The rose inside had been packed so tightly, its petals were crushed. I didn’t get a single vibe from it, so I just described the symbolism.

“You are feeling battered and bruised,” I said.

Afterwards, a woman approached and said she was a victim of domestic violence, and what should she do?

I was only 19 and had no idea, but my psychic reputation soared. The attention was intoxicating.

Then the universe told me I wasn’t cut out for science, by sending me my second-year results. I dropped out to pursue theatre and also signed up for a one-year course at the Sydney Astrology Centre, a cavernous commercial building in a seedy part of town.

The course began with the meanings of the zodiac, from Aries to Aquarius. Then the luminaries; the sun (what you will become), the moon (what you brought into this life) and planets. After that, how to calculate planetary positions and cast horoscopes.

Although astrologers use Nasa data for their calculations, horoscopes aren’t a true map of the heavens. The Babylonians who invented astrology believed the sun rotated round the Earth; modern astrologers still use Earth-centred charts, as if Copernicus had never existed. That’s only the start of the scientific problems.

The astrological meanings themselves derive from a principle called sympathetic magic, where things that look alike are linked together. Mars looks red, so it rules red things like blood. How do you get blood? You cut, so Mars rules surgery and war.

You forecast by combining meanings with planetary movements. Say Saturn, planet of restrictions, is about to transit the First House of self – your life will contract! You’re going to get more responsibilities than usual. Or maybe you’ll be denied the chance to take on more responsibilities. Or maybe a cold, critical person will come into your life. But anyway, it’s a good time to go on a diet.

Astrology is one big word association game.

I loved it, though I was losing interest in other mystical practices. Partly I didn’t have time, because I was now immersed in theatre while working as a temp typist at St Vincent’s, a Catholic hospital. But as I bounced from one department to another, my views changed. I’d understood organised religion to be something between an embarrassment and an evil. Yet as Aids did its dreadful work – this was the 1990s – I watched nuns offer compassionate care to the dying. Christian volunteers checked on derelict men with vomit down their clothes. I became uncomfortably aware that New Agers do not build hospitals or feed alcoholics – they buy self-actualisation at the cash register.

Finally, I was accepted into a music degree and my days filled with classes, my nights with rehearsals. This caused a cash crisis, because I could only do office work during academic holidays. When I saw the ad for a fortune teller, I pounced.

My credentials impressed the man on the counter (“My name is Ron,” he said. “My spirit guide is Blue Star. He’s on the intergalactic committee”) and I was hired.

We charged A$50 an hour, a significant sum at the time, and I wanted to offer value. No fishing for clues from me – I printed a horoscope or laid the cards and started interpreting immediately, intending to dazzle the customer with my insights.

Half the time, though, I couldn’t get a word in. It turned out what most people want is the chance to unload for an hour.

The range of problems faced by people who can afford $50 for fortune telling turned out to be limited: troubles with romance, troubles at work, trouble mustering the courage for a much-needed change. I heard these stories so often I could often guess what the problem was the moment someone walked in. Heartbroken young men, for example, talk about it to psychics, because it’s less risky than telling their friends. Sometimes I’d mischievously say, “Let her go. She’s not worth it,” as soon as one arrived. Once I heard, “Oh my God, oh my GOD!” as an amazed guy fell backwards down the stairs.

I also learned that intelligence and education do not protect against superstition. Many customers were stockbrokers, advertising executives or politicians, dealing with issues whose outcomes couldn’t be controlled. It’s uncertainty that drives people into woo, not stupidity, so I’m not surprised millennials are into astrology. They grew up with Harry Potter and graduated into a precarious economy, making them the ideal customers.

FacebookTwitterPinterest ‘Intelligence and education do not protect against superstition.’ Photograph: Alamy

What broke the spell for me was, oddly, people swearing by my gift. Some repeat customers claimed I’d made very specific predictions, of a kind I never made. It dawned on me that my readings were a co-creation – I would weave a story and, later, the customer’s memory would add new elements. I got to test this theory after a friend raved about a reading she’d had, full of astonishingly accurate predictions. She had a tape of the session, so I asked her to play it.

The clairvoyant had said none of the things my friend claimed. Not a single one. My friend’s imagination had done all the work.

Yet sometimes I could be uncannily accurate – wasn’t that proof I was psychic? One Sunday, I went straight from work to a party, before I’d had time to shuck off my psychic persona. A student there mentioned she wasn’t sure what to specialize in – photography, graphic design or maybe industrial design?

“Do photography,” I said.

She looked at me, wide-eyed. “How did you know?” she said, explaining photography was her real love, but her parents didn’t approve.

I couldn’t say, “because my third eye is open”, so I reflected for a moment. Then it hit me. “You sounded happier when you said ‘photography’,” I said. My psychic teacher was right – the signals we pick up before conscious awareness kicks in can be accurate and valuable.

Well, maybe I wasn’t psychic, but it didn’t matter. It was just entertainment, after all, until the cursed man came in. The one who’d seen the Catholic priest.

“Get to a doctor,” I told him. “Now.”

That very week, I’d typed letters for a neurologist who specialized in brain diseases. Some of those letters had documented strikingly similar symptoms to this man.

“Are you saying I’m crazy?” he said, his hands balled.

“No,” I reassured him. “But Catholic priests know what they’re doing. If he couldn’t help, this isn’t a curse.”

That made the man angrier.

“You’re a fraud!” he shouted, and stormed downstairs to demand his money back.

The encounter shook me, badly. Shortly afterwards, I packed my astrology books and Tarot cards away for good.

I can still make the odd forecast, though. Here’s one: the venture capital pouring into astrology apps will create a fortune telling system that works, because humans are predictable. As people follow the advice, the apps’ predictive powers will increase, creating an ever-tighter electronic leash. But they’ll be hugely popular – because if you sprinkle magic on top, you can sell people anything.

How Astrologers and Psychics operate

Derren Brown explains it all to Richard Dawkins

Could your star sign affect what you earn? Yes, says IFS

Could your star sign or the month of your birth affect how likely you are to hold down a job and what you will earn?
Yes, according to new research by no less an authority than the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS), whose research was funded by the Nuffield Foundation.

But the explanation has less to do with astrology than how old you were relative to classmates at school. Previous research published by the IFS indicated that children born at the start of the academic year tend to achieve better exam results, on average, than children born at the end of the academic year.

In England, this means that children born in the autumn tend to outperform those born in the summer. New research published today by the IFS, and funded by the Nuffield Foundation, shows that your date of birth also matters after schooldays. Compared to children born in September, those born in August are 20pc more likely to study for vocational qualifications – if they attend tertiary education at all – and 20pc less likely to attend a Russell Group or top notch university.

Claire Crawford, a director of the IFS and one of the authors of the report, said: “Studying for academic qualifications, attending a Russell Group university, and believing that you have control over your own life are all associated with a greater chance of being in work and having higher wages later in life.
This suggests that August-born children may end up doing worse than September-born children throughout their working lives, simply because of the month in which they were born.”

That’s good news for children born recently – who will have the star signs Scorpio, Libra and Virgo – but less encouraging for those born in the summer – with the star signs Leo, Cancer and Gemini. Are the latter really more likely to end up as Neets; Not in Employment, Education or Training?

For my part, I have always thought astrology is nonsense. But, as a former girlfriend pointed out: “You’re a typical  Virgoan, so you would say that, wouldn’t you?”