Melbourne has just been voted the second best city in the world for dating. No wonder – it’s a city with plenty of the decadent stuff ‘to do’ that dating requires.
Melbourne, was just ranked number two in the world of dating, according to a Time Out poll of more than 11,000 people. What does that mean? No one knows. The same survey revealed that the British accent eclipsed the French accent in terms of hotness, followed by American and Irish and Aussie accents. There may be some data-point problems at play, but that’s neither here nor there.
Paris came in first as the world’s most dateable city, which makes sense. It is pretty to walk through, sitting in cafes while looking expensive is an occupation, and the Time Out survey says that people in Paris still primarily meet one another at parties, rather than through the dating apps that my dad describes as “sad”.
But does Melbourne make sense in the number two spot?
From our partners:
In the past year, the city was ranked both the sixth most expensive city in the world, and also the world’s “most liveable city”. These incongruent positions perhaps signal a population composed of people working a bit too hard, earning the kind of too-much-money that makes them feel like they are martyrs of capitalism, a status that ought to be recognised with being sat immediately at Movida Bar de Tapas.
Bloody Marys at Sunday brunch are on the human rights, charter, right? They are definitely not overpriced symbols of souls in turmoil.
So yeah, people here tend to spend a lot of their time and money on the decadent consumption that dating life requires. There are also things to “do” in Melbourne, if “doing things” is up your alley. Many, many, things to do so that you and your squeeze can draw the attention away from the fact that you are two humans courageously risking embarrassment and rejection by exposing your desire for one another.
Melbourne also seems to be populated by very young, very well-dressed aspirants. It’s not yet LA – we still drink more beer than water – but there is a desperation in the eyes of the unblemished peaches that have not yet lost the hope that dating inspires.
This article originally appeared in The Guardian.