Raya, a dating app designed to be deliberately exclusive, had long held a strong allure for me. I heard it was how Amy Schumer met one of her boyfriends, and everyone I knew on it seemed to be matching with Pete Davidson. Ultimately, I learned that celebrity dating just isn't for me spoiler: I never met a celebrity.
Raya describes itself as a " private, membership-based social network. To get access to it, you have to be invited by a friend and then have your profile approved by the app via them scanning your social media. Despite its networking theme, everyone I know on the app uses and describes it as a dating app. Still, I would come to learn that the exclusivity, as well as the emphasis on professional networking, has the potential to make Raya a little less fun and flirty and a little more business casual.
I was so excited when Raya approved my profile. I'd heard so much about it from friends, and I desperately craved the invite. In my first few months as a Raya app user, I didn't actually use it to go on dates. Raya doesn't let you screenshot seriously, get over yourself, Raya , so I couldn't keep my friends updated on my convos on the app. Other than that, it's similar to other dating apps. You write a short bio, and then if two people like each other, you get to chat. Also, matches expire after 10 days, which felt like enough time.
I use Bumble too, but those matches expire after 24 hours, which feels too fast. Overall, I found that by far the best part of Raya was tweeting about Raya , and I was able to do this anyway, dating or not.
Once I got to LA, I decided to buckle down and find someone to go on a date with. Almost everyone I saw on the app worked in the entertainment industry, but TBH, this wasn't that different from other dating apps in LA. If I had a dollar for every aspiring comedy writer I saw on Tinder, I'd have enough dollars for a turmeric oat milk latte, and that's a lot of dollars. But Raya was different — it was glossier.
