Have you ever heard of that Greek myth where the dude pushes the same boulder up a hill, day after day, as some kind of eternal damnation? Well, that exactly sums up how I feel about dating apps. Despite knowing better, I keep going back to them, fully aware that it won’t lead anywhere. A few swipes intended to boost my self-esteem when I’m feeling low result in anxiety-inducing notifications—Brad* asking me to play 21 questions (never do it, girlies), and Jacob* telling me I have the kind of face he’d “like to sit on.”

So when I was informed about “an anti-fuck boy” dating app that supposedly got you past the agonising chatting stage and to an actual date with a reviewed human being, it’s safe to say that I was curious. I was done hearing more controversial opinions about upside-down pineapples; I just wanted basic human decency.

But is Better in Person just the Fyre Festival of dating apps? Is there substance to back up the big marketing campaigns and bold claims? SCREENSHOT spoke to Jenly Crespo, CFO (Chief of F**cboy Operations) for Better in Person, to find out.

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Recently launched in the US, Better in Person describes itself as the “no-BS dating app.” It aims to remove catfishing, pen pals and fuckboys from dating. Just like Bumble or Tinder, you can swipe through available users to find your next date. However, instead of simply liking someone, you request a date and then have the option to either chat briefly or jump straight into planning your meet-up. Initially, the app offered 20 users a day to swipe through, but this has since decreased to 12 per day.

So the obvious question is, what makes this app different from the 8,000 dating sites which have launched in the last ten years and ultimately failed to bring us true love? Here’s what Better in Person has to say about it:

– You can report shady behaviour, labelling them as a “F**kboy,” “Treasure Hunter,” “Flake,” or “Other” with real consequences.
– Dishonest daters will be flagged. After three strikes, offenders are slapped with a public profile warning banner. They must “delete the app or submit an apology video from [their] mother.” I’m not sure if that’s a joke or an actual requirement, in all honesty.
– You can apparently “flag yourself” with up to 100 tags, including “Proud Narcissist,” “Broke as Hell,” and “Daddy Issues” to be real about your baggage.
– AI-assisted date planning. As if AI isn’t carrying the load enough, it will plan your dates using Yelp and even book it all for you.
– Your follow-through rate is measured. If you’re not going on dates, your score will go down. All members must maintain a follow-through rate of 33 per cent to continue using the app.

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One of the first things that strikes me about the app is the frequent use of the term fuck boy—look, I know this is a popular term nowadays. There is even a show called FBoy Island where ‘good’ and ‘bad’ men compete for a woman. While it’s all fun and games, I think it is such a reductionist term. Not to whip out my psychology degree on y’all, but good and bad is not a linear scale. Someone might act like a fuck boy to one person, and then be great to another. This crappy behaviour might be prompted by insecurities or the crappy behaviour they’re receiving. Or, most importantly: they might not be a boy, or man, at all! As a bisexual woman, I feel the need to specify that women can be awful when it comes to dating too.

Jenly clarified that the app defines a fuck boy as genderless. She said: “It has no gender and anyone can be reported as a fuck boy. We have had women be reported, but it’s very rare.” That being said, it should also be noted that on the app’s website, Better in Person defines it as: “A f*ckboy pretends to want a relationship but is just trying to get in your pants. This deception leaves women feeling used and tricked, and makes it harder for honest guys to be trusted.”

I’m still uncertain whether the apology video from someone’s mother is meant to be a joke, but I’ll be a spoilsport and admit that, if it’s true, I’m not a fan. We should be past the time of making women responsible for men’s behaviour, even their sons. Also, why isn’t a father responsible for their child’s behaviour in the same way? On the other hand, I applaud Better in Person’s use of videos to verify users and avoid the dreaded catfish or Photoshop situations.

Jenly specified that the app works the same way for same-sex couples: “When you sign up, you can pick a gender and which gender you are interested in. The LGBTQ+ community is about 2 per cent of the app, so for a larger user base, they will have more success on apps dedicated to their community or the big generalist apps (e.g. Bumble).”

According to Jenly, the dating app’s unique selling point (USP) is getting users to meet up quickly. Previous research by Hinge showed that “62% of Hinge daters feel ready to schedule a date after three days, but only 34% of users actually do this,” dubbing it the ‘Phone Zone.’ Jenly claims that “on major dating apps today, 9 out of 10 matches never meet up. So then, what’s the point?”

Better in Person is for “people who are intentional and want to meet. You get more info upfront and it even goes as far as helping to plan your date.” It sounds like the app is dedicated to skipping the painful slow talk and weeding out those who are not serious about dating. It ensures profiles are more detailed so that by the time you request a date, you already know more about the person than you would on other apps.

I had wanted to speak to users, but due to some mix-ups and time constraints, this wasn’t possible. Turning to social media, I couldn’t find a single user of the app, despite its successful launch. I checked out their reviews on the App Store, and it currently holds a decent 4.1. Users seem keen on the concept, calling it “unfiltered and real.” One user complained that they had paid for the full features only to have access to no users. Better in Person is headquartered in Los Angeles, which has a population of almost four million, and yet not a single person is on this hot new dating app? This seems like a flaw that should hopefully go away with an increased user base over time.

Another review mentioned that during their first chat with someone, they were consistently hassled to pay for a date. “I talked to someone for over an hour and had 59 prompts for choosing a restaurant,” the user reviewed. I guess I would feel a little reluctant to pay for a date immediately, but then again, as Jenly puts it, “If you’re looking to chat for a while before meeting in person, we’ll be upfront and say that this is not the app for you.”

Most of the attention for this app has been scoured up through flashy, viral-worthy guerrilla marketing, like seaplanes, billboards, and IRL fuck boys. It’s an interesting way to promote a “no-fuck boys” app, but hey, they are pretty to look at.

Perhaps some of that budget would’ve been better spent on Better in Person’s social media presence, which is currently a puzzling void. Its TikTok and Instagram accounts feature the same odd videos. Two scripted video ads by a man and three videos of an elderly man claiming he “used to be a fuck boy.” Also, the app’s Instagram only follows two accounts: Sunbzy, and The Rock. You do you, boo…

Better in Person is available for free on the App Store, and predicting a release on Android in Q1 of 2025. It’s a gutsy brand and a reaction to the online discourse surrounding dating right now. While Bumble’s last rebrand wasn’t the success it’d hoped for, Better in Person seems bold and ready to carve out its own spot in the market. I worry that it doesn’t have much to support its claims and that it might have blown all of its budget on shirtless male models, but I’m also curious to see where the app goes next. Personally, I’m far more interesting online, but if you believe you’re better in person, give it a go.