Sunday Times Magazine: Downloading Mr Right, continued ...

Britain is increasingly a singleton society. With our growing affluence and job mobility, and the pressure to work longer hours, we are marrying later, divorcing more readily and feeling less constrained about treating relationships as something to be conveniently arranged online. By 2010, according to government forecasts, 40% of us will live alone, making the single-person home the most common household unit. Nor can the trend be dismissed as a Bridget Jones phenomenon led by newly empowered young women. According to a University of Edinburgh study on "solo living", men between 25 and 44 are currently twice as likely as women to be living alone. For established dating websites — with enough matches to offer most users a satisfactory choice — this signifies a huge commercial opportunity. Globally, according to the internet-tracking firm comScore Networks, online personals are now the single most lucrative category of online content, beating even pornography. The US market, estimated by internet analysts at JupiterResearch to be worth $516m, is now assumed to have peaked. Today the boom is in Europe, where over the next five years it is reckoned that our annual spending will more than double from £115m to £260m.

British singles are leading the way. Around 11% of internet users visit these sites each month, according to Alex Burmaster, European internet analyst at Nielsen/NetRatings. "Which means that 9 out of 10 still aren't using them," Burmaster says, "so there's plenty of opportunity to grow." At the same time, much of the social stigma associated with computer dating appears to have dissipated. "A couple of years ago, people said it was just for geeks and losers," recalls Nate Elliott, an online-dating analyst at JupiterResearch. "Not today. Online dating sites have revolutionised the business of matchmaking, making it more acceptable, offering more detailed options than ever before, and doing so cheaply. In the past, a newspaper ad would give you 30 words and no picture; or you could go to a matchmaker, which was costly and time-intensive. These sites take the best from both and give you control over who you meet."

So easy has it become to "click" discreetly online that relationship counsellors blame internet dating and reunion sites for contributing to last year's rise in divorce to 167,116 in the UK. At 0.2%, the rise might appear hardly worth noting — except that it was the fourth successive annual increase, and took the total number of divorces to the highest since 1996. Relate, the marriage-guidance body, blames the ease of internet-enabled affairs for the breakdown of 1 in 10 of the relationships where it is called in — either because one partner met a new lover online, or because they were able to arrange meetings discreetly through e-mails.

Whatever your proclivities or requirements, somewhere in cyberspace there is a dating site promising to find your soul mate. The UK's most-visited include Match.com, which arrived from the US in 2001 and now claims 1.5m registered members paying up to £26 a month; Udate, which Match bought three years ago for $150m, earning its founder, the entrepreneur Mel Morris, a reported £20m; and Gaydar.co.uk, the gay personals site favoured by Chris Bryant, the Labour MP for Rhondda, who as "Alfa101" was revealed to have posed in his underwear and advertised himself as "very versatile".

Yet there are also specialist sites catering to vegans, bikers, fetishists, herpes carriers and poets. If TallPeople.com stretches your wish list, there is DwarfDate.com; should CelibatePassions.com fail to arouse you, go kvetch with the modern Orthodox Jews at Frumster.com. The Tories may disagree over Europe, but they can find harmony at onservativeMatch.com. There is even now a dating site for those seeking a sexual affair without the hassle of actually meeting a human being. The HighJoy.com online dating community, run from Los Angeles, allows consenting adults to meet online and "control each other's pleasure" by plugging internet-enabled Doc Johnson sex toys into their computers. "It's the logical next evolution of online interaction," insists the company's CEO, Amir Vatan.

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Bertram Pridmore had been married for 49 years when his beloved wife died from a hospital MRSA infection following a road accident. "It left me in a bit of a state," the 78-year-old recalls three years on, sipping tea in his Norfolk village bungalow. "With my being blind, I'd lost not just my wife but also my eyes," he says, stroking his wispy white beard and pursing his lips to suppress a tear. "Not being able to get about, it was getting so lonely, especially in the evenings. Either I was going to end up a bloody loner, or I'd have to do something about it."

Pridmore was learning to use a computer specially adapted to read text aloud and magnify files for his remaining peripheral vision. Despite his initial wariness, he registered with an online dating site in March 2004. "It was the only outlet I could think of for meeting people," he recalls. "The net was an Aladdin's cave, hard work to use without my sight, but it kept me occupied."

Almost immediately, his inbox buzzed with possibilities: dinner invitations from enthusiastic Dorset widows, awkward approaches from anxious septuagenarians, time-wasting private messages from women he dismissed as "queries" and "religious freaks". He arranged a few pleasant dates, but there was never the magic that made him want to take things further.

And then he noticed the intriguing profile of Janet, a divorcée 16 years his junior, who lived just a few miles away. When he approached her through the site, Janet quickly warned him that she had been deaf since birth. Don't worry, Bertram replied, I can't see. Janet protested that she had specified a clean-shaven man, as a beard made it hard to lip-read. If we click, said Bernard, I am quite prepared to shave mine off. Plus, she added, you're far older than I wanted. Ah, he replied, but I am young at heart. They arranged to meet for tea in the Norwich Co-op and were still chatting after two hours. Four months later, in November 2004, Janet became the second Mrs Pridmore at North Walsham register office. "People said it was too quick, but I love him and it's my life, so I was going to go ahead regardless," says Janet, 62, sitting beside Bertram on the sofa. Bertram adds: "I said to Janet, she's given me my life back, didn't I, dear?"  "You've given me mine too," she says, beaming back.

The digital Cupid who helped the Pridmores find love is a 39-year-old former Tamagotchi salesman based in Birmingham. Eight years ago, Darren Richards was using the internet to import microscooters, yo-yos and other Asian novelty toys, when he reflected that the web's efficiencies might also source him a girlfriend. Staggered to find no British site to take his money, he went to Dixons to buy the software FrontPage 98, put a one-page website together, and registered the domain DatingDirect.com.

From that initial investment of £250, DatingDirect.com has grown to become the UK's largest dating service, according to Nielsen NetRatings, which monitors internet use. It claims 3.2m UK members, of whom almost 2m have been "active" in the past three months. Turnover — based on fees of up to £99.95 for a year — was forecast to exceed £10m last year, although reinvestment limited the profit to around £1.5m for the last half of 2005. But next year, predicts Richards — who owns the company outright with his business partner Andrew Pike — the business is on course to turn £5m profit on a £15m turnover, and all with just 13 employees. "We've had some very serious approaches in the last six months, and have engaged a company to look into those offers," Richards says proudly. The valuation, he suggests, would be comparable to the e380m (£260m) accorded to the French dating site Meetic, which floated on the Paris Bourse in October.

Not that money is Richards's only goal, he is at pains to point out. DatingDirect.com has also perked up his romantic life, introducing him to Claire, his former girlfriend of five years, and to his current partner of four months. "My 65-year-old father joined too, having divorced when I was 14, and I've seen a big change in him since he met Joanne, his partner for the last three years," Richards says. "Dad's not the most sociable sort of bloke, and he'd never join the local salsa class, but online he could meet people. As for me, I don't consider myself attractive, hardly the silver-tongued charmer in a bar. But gone are the days of eyes meeting across the room — now it's messages meeting across the internet."

Online dating remains primarily a man's pursuit, and an older man's at that. At Match.com, around 60% of UK members are males, predominantly aged over 35. Their behaviour also tends to fit a few gender stereotypes. According to a survey of 3,400 internet users by Nielsen NetRatings last summer, men are four times as likely to look for a no-strings affair as women, who mainly want friendships rather than physical relationships. Men, too, tend to select their dates mainly according to looks. Women, by contrast, value personal characteristics and descriptions, putting more than twice as much emphasis as men on a partner's job and income.

The key to the medium's rapid expansion has been its databases' ability to match us efficiently and relatively cheaply with others like ourselves. We are not just looking for partners of the same faith, age or marital status: according to a study by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), we also seek our equals in attitudes, values and perceived attractiveness. Analysing the messages sent among 65,000 heterosexual users of an American online dating site, the MIT researchers found attraction highest between couples of similar physical build, educational attainment and even pet ownership.

"We're providing access to people you'd otherwise not get to meet," says Samantha Bedford, the 35-year-old UK managing director of Match.com. "You're a thirtysomething woman who finds that her circle of friends has shrunk, and some are married with children. Let's say you're a lawyer — do you really want to marry a work colleague? With us, you may meet a teacher, an artist, a doctor . . . We've also got people coming out of serious relationships, many divorced with children, who see us as a gentle way of getting back into dating while the kids are in bed, glass of wine by the computer, no make-up on. And then we've got the fiftysomethings not ready to go to bed at 9 with their Horlicks. Online dating doesn't get rid of the romance: it increases your opportunities. You can put your heart out there."

The problems begin when those using these sites are not all they seem. Many of the bigger sites claim to vet members' profiles, but there is often little to stop those with dishonourable or even criminal intentions from lying about themselves. In the recent Nielsen NetRatings survey of 3,400 internet users, a third admitted to lying in their profile, often on minor details such as age or income. Yet occasionally the deception is far more serious, wrecking the lives of those unlucky enough to open their hearts.

In June 2003, Karen Carlton, a divorceé with three children, met up with a former US Marine with whom she had exchanged e-mails. Within weeks, she had invited the charming former special-forces officer to move into her home after his flat's lease expired. His tales of Gulf-war heroism, including an account of being tortured in Iraq, had Carlton transfixed: "His deep southern drawl used to send shivers down my spine." But Adrien Sears was actually a fantasist from Leicester. "Everything about Adrien was phoney, from his accent to his life story," she claimed. "Naively, I believed that the dating site vetted members."

In another reported case, a 39-year-old London man flew to Delhi to meet a potential bride he had found on the Shaadi.com matrimonial site, only to discover that the woman had begun life as a man. Her photograph had been that of a cousin, according to the man (who wanted to stay anonymous), and her sister had made her phone calls. Then there was Mark Ridgewell from Gloucestershire, whose profile at Udate.com claimed he was "totally faithful" and "loving and sincere". When four women he had been dating simultaneously discovered the truth two years ago, after he accidentally sent an e-mail intended for just one date to all his online contacts, they confronted him jointly.

Last January, a team from the University of Chicago and MIT analysed the behaviour of 23,000 users of one of the big dating sites. Their findings suggest that many were flattering themselves in their self-reported profiles. Whereas almost three-quarters of men and women claimed to have "above-average looks", just 1% admitted to being below average. Women were miraculously slimmer than the researchers would have expected: overall 6lb lighter than the national average among 20- to 29-year-olds, and 20lb lighter among those in their forties. Men tended to be remarkably taller than the norm. Perhaps, the researchers suggested, that was because men in the 6ft 3in to 6ft 4in range tended to receive 60% more first-contact e-mails than those from 5ft 7in to 5ft 8in.

The Sunday Times Magazine decided to test the hypothesis. After registering at Match.com, we conducted searches for men and women aged 18-45 living within five miles of Leeds. There were 546 women available, whose mean given height was around 5ft 5in — almost exactly in line with the national average, as measured by the UK National Sizing Survey. Yet among the 1,052 men, the average stated height was just over 5ft 11in — almost 2in taller than we'd have expected. In itself, this evidence of online dishonesty is fairly inconsequential. Perhaps the beer in Leeds is unusually nutritious. Yet what if a member of one of these sites intended to use it for criminal purposes? What, beyond the "dating tips" generally displayed on inside pages, would there be to stop another Yosuke Naito, who admitted killing a 17-year-old girl he met through an internet dating site; or another Hardy Lloyd, who also murdered a woman he had met online?

One American site, True.com, has been campaigning for criminal- background checks to be mandatory for all new registrations. Not surprisingly, the British sites insist that the risks are overplayed. "We can't change society, and you have to remember your instincts," says Samantha Bedford of Match.com. "But if you go into a bar tonight and meet a guy, you'd know less about him than if you'd met him on Match. Most people are honest. We've had no major issues in the UK." At DatingDirect.com, Darren Richards says he knows of no serious complaints received about his members. "And if we did get any, these people have paid with credit cards. So unlike that bar pick-up, we can track them down."

The other question is whether the sites themselves are overselling their claims. As competition intensifies for the hundreds of millions of pounds at stake, two of the biggest stand accused of faking romantic interest in customers to retain them. Yahoo is not commenting on a lawsuit that accuses its personals service of "fraudulently" posting profiles of fictitious potential partners to encourage renewals. In a separate case, Match.com is accused of sending bogus romantic e-mails to members whose subscriptions were lapsing, and even using employees as "date bait" to meet them in person. The company strenuously denies the charges.

Mark Thompson, a psychologist whose company, weAttract.com, has designed personality tests for both sites, believes that some online matchmakers make unrealistic and inaccurate claims to maximise profits. Match.com claims to be responsible for 200,000 relationships a year, but offers no detailed evidence; eHarmony.com promises "compatibility based on the 29 dimensions crucial for relationship success", relying on assertions that Thompson rejects. "It's amazing what people get away with promising and not delivering," he says.

But as Richards sees it, the ever-climbing numbers speak for themselves. "Sure, not everyone lives happily ever after," he says. "But we're seeing members join, then leave us after 12 to 18 months, and then come back later. Because if a relationship doesn't work out, they know there are plenty more fish in the sea."

ROGUES' GALLERY
The men who used cyberspace to lure unsuspecting women into their web of lies — or even to their death

Karen Carlton, a divorced mother of three from Fife, revealed last November that she had lived for two years with a former US Marine she had met online, only to discover that Adrien Sears, supposedly a Gulf-war hero, was actually from Leicester, and appeared to have modelled his story on the Tom Cruise character in Top Gun.

Mark Ridgewell, a 44-year-old management consultant from Gloucestershire, was surprised in his local pub in October 2003 when four women he was allegedly stringing along turned up to confront him.

Yosuke Naito, a Japanese government worker, admitted murdering a 17-year-old girl he met through an internet dating site.

Hardy Lloyd, a white supremacist from Pittsburgh, shot dead his 41-year-old girlfriend he had met online.

Clive Worth, a former miner from Llanelli, Wales, was banned from DatingDirect.com in November 2004 after claiming to be five years younger than his 55 years and dating 200 women. He had advertised himself as looking for "love, romance and a long-term relationship". "I became very unpopular with a lot of these women because I sent the same e-mails to dozens of them and some were friends with each other and spotted it," he admitted.

(Sunday Times Magazine, January 8 2006)