|
Matchmaking services have been on the Web for years, in South Korea and elsewhere. But Lee insists that his system is the most scientifically advanced around, providing South Koreans wary of fraud or too shy to propose, or just too busy to date, with a hassle-free way of finding Mr. or Ms. Right.
For example, Kim Su Jong, a 29-year-old pharmacist, has listed more than 330 pieces of information about herself - everything from her height, weight, blood type and drinking and smoking habits to her monthly pay, personality preferences in a spouse, and the jobs and academic credentials of everyone in her family.
Lee's Shiny computer program then quantifies her desirability as a spouse, grading 1,320 job categories and all 8,200 school departments in South Korea on a scale of 0 to 100, and rating Kim on a physical attractiveness index.
Within seconds, Shiny produces a marriage consulting report advising her that it would be most realistic for her to get married next year to a 33-year-old dentist or herbal doctor between 170 and 174 centimeters tall, or 5 feet 7 inches and 5 feet 8 inches. If she believes in horoscopes, the computer said August would be the best month to marry, but March and September should be avoided.
This information costs Kim 20,000 won, or $21. For another 30,000 won, Shiny scans a pool of 25,000 clients and, on the following two Wednesdays, sends her the names of one or two men whose own profile supposedly makes them suitable partners.
"We built our system by analyzing the marrying patterns of 10,000 couples married through our agency," said Lee, the chief executive of Sunoo, one of the oldest and leading matchmaking agency in South Korea. "Our site is not a place for Cinderellas - people with illusions of finding a prince or princess. Our emphasis is on being scientific and practical.
"We are a harbinger of the future."
Some critics decry the proliferation of computerized matchmaking services like Lee's, saying the services encourage marriage only between people with similar social backgrounds and reinforce the stereotype that a rich man gets a beauty. But their apparent success testifies to the booming South Korean matchmaking industry.
There are more than 1,000 dating agencies in South Korea. They include one-person operations known by their slightly disparaging nickname "Madame Tu," or Madame Pimp. These typically middle-aged women seek out top graduates of prestigious universities and single doctors and lawyers and introduce them to rich families with eligible sons and daughters. Then there are the corporations like Lee's Sunoo. These big agencies produce over 1,000 married couples a year and increasingly rely on computerized data.
With the South Korean birth rate being among the lowest in the world, demographic experts are casting friendlier looks on these agencies, which are banned from advertising their service on television.
"Our low birth rate is more than a crisis and it's because fewer people get married," said Cho Nam Hoon, director of the Center for Low Fertility and Aging Studies. "The government should encourage the matchmaking industry. Perhaps it should start its own matchmaking service."
Marriage is becoming an option, not a rite of passage, among South Koreans, with more men insecure about their jobs, and more women favoring work outside the home over child-rearing. In 2005, a majority of South Koreans in their 20s and 30s - 51 percent - were unmarried, 5 percentage points higher than in 2000.
In old Korea, where Confucian mores frowned on the mingling of the sexes, young people were brought together by matchmakers, usually old women in their villages. Many elderly Koreans remember meeting their mates for the second, or even first, time on their wedding day.
Even now, marriage is widely viewed as a contract between two families, and when the time comes, parents often take charge. They check a candidate's looks, education, income and horoscope. On weekends, young men and women might face each other awkwardly in a hotel cafeteria after being dragged there by their parents for a matchmaking session. Love can blossom later, the parents tell them.
"More than half our 10,000 clients were brought to us by their parents," said Hong Kyung Hee of the Daks Club matchmaking agency who has helped 100 couples tie the knots. "South Korea remains very conservative when it comes to marriage."
Agencies thrive because they combine traditional ways with the newer, Western concept of the blind date. For parents concerned with "saving face," an agency can take care of the awkward business of checking personal background and, perhaps, rejecting a candidate introduced by friends.
For singles, overwhelmed by the hectic pace of modern life, it saves time by allowing them to schedule their encounters. It also reduces the risks of a blind date by pre-screening suitors. Such a systematic approach is favored by singles alarmed by the rising South Korean divorce rate, a phenomenon often blamed on arranged marriages.
Bigger agencies supplement computer searches with their own Madame Tus, or "couple managers" as these typically college-educated young women call themselves. These professionals arrange dates for their clients and coach them on how to dress and joke. They select restaurants and even make and respond to marriage proposals on their client's behalf. The one-time fee for such services runs 1 million won or more.
Leading companies like LG Electronics and Samsung ask agencies to organize group blind dates as a benefit for their single employees. All major banks vie for well-heeled private customers by offering free matchmaking services for their children.
"In our society, we still find it hard to approach members of the opposite sex. There must be a go-between. So this is a useful service for me," said Cha Hyun Seok, a 34-year-old employee at LG Chemicals. "The types of people I meet at my work are limited. Here I get to meet a variety people at once."
Cha was among 70 people who attended a matchmaking party organized by Duo, the largest Korean dating agency, at a hotel hall decorated with heart-shaped balloons. Divided into groups, the men moved to different tables so that everyone had a chance to meet everyone else. At the end of the five-hour session, participants submitted "love-match cards," where they wrote down the number of the person they liked. Ten couples were matched.
Cha was coupled with Yoo Ka Hee, a 26-year-old law clerk, who was pursued by several other men. "A lot of men approached me, but he didn't even look at me or talk to me," Yoo said. "Then he slipped his card to me in a furtive way, as if nonchalantly. I liked that; it kind of created a mystery about him."
Lee Young Joo, 32, a computer chip salesman, was disappointed he did not get a date. "I didn't get enough time to really get to know people and get them to know me," he said. "Here people focus on the looks and job descriptions."
Many people are embarrassed about using a dating service. But the service increasingly attracts young professionals and children of high-status families who want to realize their "full market value," matchmakers say.
Which is why Lee Woong Jin and his Shiny program's "objective spouse index" are prospering. In addition to the computer's recommendations, clients can do their own search and fire off text-message proposals called "Cupid's arrows." The program does not release full names and contact numbers until they agree to meet and each pay 30,000 won. Traffic is brisk; Lee's Shiny service is generating 50 million won a month in sales.
"My dream is one day to connect the entire world through a global matchmaking network that transcends racial boundaries," Lee said.
Published: June 5, 2007
| 
