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Posté : 25 janv. 2026, 14:51
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Logan Ury Says You’re Dating All Wrong. From her Oakland commune, a dating coach has made a big business out of her data-driven approach to modern romance. Send any friend a story.
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As a subscriber, you have 10 gift articles to give each month. Anyone can read what you share. Give this article. Listen to This Article. To hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android . OAKLAND, Calif. — In the backyard of a luxury commune, slouched on the stones between a wood-barrel sauna and a cobalt blue Ping-Pong table, Logan Ury flicked fragments of acorns off her dress while the woman across from her recited her attachment style. A hot tub burbled in the background, where a string of fairy lights drooped between trees. The woman said she was “avoidant,” which was why she was single, why she had sought Ms. Ury’s help. Maybe the woman wasn’t anxious, necessarily, Ms. Ury said, maybe she was getting in her own way, overthinking things. In Ms. Ury’s words, the woman was her own “blocker.” Ms. Ury suggested that since the woman tended to meet her past romantic partners in person, she should spend some of her limited free time bouldering, chatting with fellow climbers and scanning for potential love interests, instead of thumbing through the dating apps. Ms. Ury, 34, is part of a long lineage of love experts who have built a dating pundit industrial complex. Of late, they have been joined by TikTokers and podcasters and Instagram infographic makers who churn out random dating “rules” — wait three hours before responding to a text, tell men they make you feel safe, curb every impulse to fight with your partner. Not all of them have Ms. Ury’s credentials, though — a Harvard psychology degree and a book that’s gone into its eighth printing and has been translated into 14 languages. To stand out amid those who love to explain love, Ms. Ury packages her coaching as precise and prestigious, applying the language of Silicon Valley C.E.O.s to a throng of anxious daters. Back at her desk an hour later, Ms. Ury led a Zoom session for 67 people who had paid nearly $2,000 each for a six-week course, which gave them the chance to ask their most pressing questions about dating. She coiled an enormous scrunchie around her fingers, twisting the fabric into smaller and smaller knots while talking about knees. A man wanted to know why the woman he’d just gone out with had turned down a second date, even though she had given him a long hug when they parted and her knees had been pointed at him for much of the date, he said. “Yeah,” Ms. Ury said slowly. “I just want to validate that that’s confusing.” This is Ms. Ury’s job: to validate, as much as to volley back what she claims are research-backed strategies for hacking modern romance. “Date like a scientist!” she said when a woman asked how young was too young for her to consider someone a viable romantic partner. (Translation: Go out with a few younger guys, see how you feel, recalibrate.) Another woman refused to match with men on dating apps who labeled themselves “sapiosexuals,” claiming they were sexually attracted to intelligence, Ms. Ury deemed that word a “pet peeve, not a deal breaker.” Outside her window, a BART train rattled past the vividly colored tiles of the children’s hospital across the street. She glanced over, then beamed back at the camera. “Remember,” she said, “A.B.F. — Always Be Flirting.” Using numbers to find love. Ms. Ury constantly speaks as if she’s at a podium. She is a generous interview subject, sometimes taking 25 minutes to answer a single question about her work. She uses data often, quotes Adam Grant and refers to behavioral economics experiments casually. Her language makes a subset of her clients — especially men from Silicon Valley — “feel safe,” she said. “If it’s an engineering-focused guy, I’ll say ‘loss aversion,’ ‘sunk cost fallacy.’ I know, with certain people, that makes them want to work with me.” Data defines Ms. Ury’s own life too, from her intermittent fasting routine to her life at Radish, the luxury commune, which she deems a scientifically designed utopia. In layman’s terms, it is a four building compound that she and her husband share with 12 engineers, behavioral scientists, venture capitalists and others, where the bathroom is stocked with goat milk soap and residents communicate using a Slack channel called “not_a_cult.” Research shows that people are happiest when they live in groups, Ms. Ury said. At Radish, members eat dinner together nearly every night and guests are welcome. When I visited, a private chef was “auditioning” for a regular catering gig by serving vegan lox she had concocted out of carrots. On Zoom calls, Ms. Ury’s carefully curated background includes succulent stubs sticking out of terra cotta pots and a color-coded bookshelf. She could fill the self-help aisle of a bookstore with her collection of dating and relationships titles — “Attached,” “Come As You Are,” “Marry Him” — which sit next to 18 copies of her own, “How to Not Die Alone,” a synthesis of psychological literature filled with cutesy takeaways on modern dating. Since its release in February 2021, Ms. Ury has been a staple on podcasts, a go-to source in articles and a morning-show guest, often speaking about pandemic-delayed dating. She also works at the dating app Hinge as the director of relationship science, where she conducts surveys on behalf of the company. A recent one found that 88 percent of the app’s users would prefer to date someone who’s in therapy. What distinguishes Ms. Ury is her distillation of different strains of research on relationships, said Eli Finkel, a psychology professor at Northwestern University and the author of “The All-or-Nothing Marriage,” one of the books on Ms.
Article:
Logan Ury Says You’re Dating All Wrong. From her Oakland commune, a dating coach has made a big business out of her data-driven approach to modern romance. Send any friend a story.
Click here for next love dating site
As a subscriber, you have 10 gift articles to give each month. Anyone can read what you share. Give this article. Listen to This Article. To hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android . OAKLAND, Calif. — In the backyard of a luxury commune, slouched on the stones between a wood-barrel sauna and a cobalt blue Ping-Pong table, Logan Ury flicked fragments of acorns off her dress while the woman across from her recited her attachment style. A hot tub burbled in the background, where a string of fairy lights drooped between trees. The woman said she was “avoidant,” which was why she was single, why she had sought Ms. Ury’s help. Maybe the woman wasn’t anxious, necessarily, Ms. Ury said, maybe she was getting in her own way, overthinking things. In Ms. Ury’s words, the woman was her own “blocker.” Ms. Ury suggested that since the woman tended to meet her past romantic partners in person, she should spend some of her limited free time bouldering, chatting with fellow climbers and scanning for potential love interests, instead of thumbing through the dating apps. Ms. Ury, 34, is part of a long lineage of love experts who have built a dating pundit industrial complex. Of late, they have been joined by TikTokers and podcasters and Instagram infographic makers who churn out random dating “rules” — wait three hours before responding to a text, tell men they make you feel safe, curb every impulse to fight with your partner. Not all of them have Ms. Ury’s credentials, though — a Harvard psychology degree and a book that’s gone into its eighth printing and has been translated into 14 languages. To stand out amid those who love to explain love, Ms. Ury packages her coaching as precise and prestigious, applying the language of Silicon Valley C.E.O.s to a throng of anxious daters. Back at her desk an hour later, Ms. Ury led a Zoom session for 67 people who had paid nearly $2,000 each for a six-week course, which gave them the chance to ask their most pressing questions about dating. She coiled an enormous scrunchie around her fingers, twisting the fabric into smaller and smaller knots while talking about knees. A man wanted to know why the woman he’d just gone out with had turned down a second date, even though she had given him a long hug when they parted and her knees had been pointed at him for much of the date, he said. “Yeah,” Ms. Ury said slowly. “I just want to validate that that’s confusing.” This is Ms. Ury’s job: to validate, as much as to volley back what she claims are research-backed strategies for hacking modern romance. “Date like a scientist!” she said when a woman asked how young was too young for her to consider someone a viable romantic partner. (Translation: Go out with a few younger guys, see how you feel, recalibrate.) Another woman refused to match with men on dating apps who labeled themselves “sapiosexuals,” claiming they were sexually attracted to intelligence, Ms. Ury deemed that word a “pet peeve, not a deal breaker.” Outside her window, a BART train rattled past the vividly colored tiles of the children’s hospital across the street. She glanced over, then beamed back at the camera. “Remember,” she said, “A.B.F. — Always Be Flirting.” Using numbers to find love. Ms. Ury constantly speaks as if she’s at a podium. She is a generous interview subject, sometimes taking 25 minutes to answer a single question about her work. She uses data often, quotes Adam Grant and refers to behavioral economics experiments casually. Her language makes a subset of her clients — especially men from Silicon Valley — “feel safe,” she said. “If it’s an engineering-focused guy, I’ll say ‘loss aversion,’ ‘sunk cost fallacy.’ I know, with certain people, that makes them want to work with me.” Data defines Ms. Ury’s own life too, from her intermittent fasting routine to her life at Radish, the luxury commune, which she deems a scientifically designed utopia. In layman’s terms, it is a four building compound that she and her husband share with 12 engineers, behavioral scientists, venture capitalists and others, where the bathroom is stocked with goat milk soap and residents communicate using a Slack channel called “not_a_cult.” Research shows that people are happiest when they live in groups, Ms. Ury said. At Radish, members eat dinner together nearly every night and guests are welcome. When I visited, a private chef was “auditioning” for a regular catering gig by serving vegan lox she had concocted out of carrots. On Zoom calls, Ms. Ury’s carefully curated background includes succulent stubs sticking out of terra cotta pots and a color-coded bookshelf. She could fill the self-help aisle of a bookstore with her collection of dating and relationships titles — “Attached,” “Come As You Are,” “Marry Him” — which sit next to 18 copies of her own, “How to Not Die Alone,” a synthesis of psychological literature filled with cutesy takeaways on modern dating. Since its release in February 2021, Ms. Ury has been a staple on podcasts, a go-to source in articles and a morning-show guest, often speaking about pandemic-delayed dating. She also works at the dating app Hinge as the director of relationship science, where she conducts surveys on behalf of the company. A recent one found that 88 percent of the app’s users would prefer to date someone who’s in therapy. What distinguishes Ms. Ury is her distillation of different strains of research on relationships, said Eli Finkel, a psychology professor at Northwestern University and the author of “The All-or-Nothing Marriage,” one of the books on Ms.