Each of the profiles is about the real men that are successful and are looking for partners with whom they can share their experiences.
All you need is money or power, the notion goes, and beautiful lovers present themselves to you for the taking.
When Homer Simpson once came into a 500-pound surfeit of sugar, his id instinct was to turn it into fortune and sexual prosperity.
On these “consensually-ranked” traits, people seem to aspire to partners who rank more highly than themselves. The stereotypical example of that is known in sociology as a “beauty-status exchange”—an attractive person marries a wealthy or otherwise powerful person, and both win.
It’s the classic story of an elderly polymath-billionaire who has sustained damning burns to the face who marries a swimsuit model who can’t find Paris on a map but really wants to go there, because it’s romantic.
I can read their thoughts, see pictures of their dinner and interact with them through likes, comments, emojis and tweets.
We all exist as serif typography on a bright screen, and yet we are still alone, and if less lucky, lonely.
But how can we all not be lonesome when we’re substituting online relationships for real ones?
When we’re creating digital communities that inherently are neighborhoods with no people?
“In America," he said, half dreaming after a night spent guarding the mound in his backyard, "first you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the women.” That’s an homage to (in the movie the quote was “money” instead of “sugar”), and it’s where both Simpson and Tony Montana went emphatically astray.