I met my wife on a dating app back in 2019. The apps were broken then too. They're more broken now. Not that I'd know firsthand these days, but my single friends complain about them; usually with the app open on the table like it's evidence.
Here's the part I don't love admitting: I got lucky.
Before I met my wife I did the full app tour. I was on OkCupid for a minute, then Tinder, then Coffee Meets Bagel, then Bumble, then Hinge. I even tried Plenty of Fish and some other small ones that no longer exist. So yes, I really was on all of them. I spent years of swiping, matching, ghosting, and more than a handful of dates that went nowhere. And when I finally matched with my wife, she barely had anything in her profile, so really I matched based on looks. I'm sure I threw some dumb pickup line at this gorgeous girl, and by some miracle she responded, and then she actually said yes to a date, which still feels one-in-a-million to me. (She'll say she swiped on me because I had a dog in my profile pic.)
I won the broken game, but let's be clear about what happened there. I flipped a coin which landed on the rest of my life.
Anyway. The idea that has stuck with me for years is the one OkCupid had first: match people on personality. I was only on it for a bit before the world moved on to swiping, but it stuck with me. Somewhere along the way one conglomerate bought up most of the dating apps, and now they all work basically the same way, which is faces first, then swiping, forever.
Looks matter for attraction, sure. But looks fade, and a relationship is really about compatibility, or at least about knowing where the two of you aren't compatible and deciding you're fine with it.
That's why I built Sprig.
Sprig asks you questions across six pillars of compatibility, covering everything from how you fight to how you spend a lazy Sunday to whether you want kids. For every answer you also say how much the question matters to you, and which answers you'd accept from someone else. Because honestly, who wants to date themselves? Almost nobody. There are things your person doesn't need to share with you, and things they absolutely do, and only you know which is which. So Sprig doesn't tell you someone is exactly like you. It tells you how compatible you are and where it matters to you. This exists in both directions: how you fit them and how they fit you.
Then there's the part that makes Sprig feel different the second you open it: the photos start blurred. Every question you both answer sharpens them a little, and at 34 in common they're fully clear. No deck of faces to burn or swipe through. In fact, there's no swiping at all. Seeing your face (or your potential match's face) is the reward for getting to know someone. That's the whole mechanic.
My goal is for our members to have fewer wasted Friday nights. Nobody wants to spend money on dinner and drinks just to find out in the first ten minutes that this isn't someone you could even be friends with. You could have spent that Friday with your friends, your dog, or just rotting on the couch, which some weeks is the correct call. If Sprig does its job, then when you do give someone your Friday night, you'll actually want to see them again on Saturday.
We're launching in Seattle first. When a dating app opens everywhere at once it ends up empty everywhere, so we're doing one city at a time, starting with mine. Seattle doesn't go live until enough of the city has joined for it to be worth your night, and if you join now, you're first in line when it does.
One more thing while I have you: Sprig is free, with no ads, no selling your data, and no paying to be seen first. Your match score can't be bought, not by you and not by anyone else. I'd rather run this thing on honesty (and coffee money) than on boosts and whatever other paid gimmicks that lead to making the experience worse.
We called it Sprig because good things start small and grow.
I got lucky. You shouldn't have to.