Studies suggest that millennial women like Catalano are more emotionally drained by dating apps than any other demographic group. — Pixabay
Lisa Catalano glanced at a notification on her iPhone and sighed. In the hour-plus that she'd been trying to unwind with some red wine, 105 new messages flooded her personal website, MarryLisa.com.
"I'm sure a lot of those are horrendous," Catalano said.
Just weeks ago, the 42-year-old San Mateo resident was like many other single millennials in the Bay Area: lonely, frustrated and tired of swiping through dating apps. That changed when, despite plenty of scepticism from friends and family, Catalano put her smiling face and brunette curls on six massive Highway 101 billboards proclaiming her search for a husband.
Anyone driving between Santa Clara and San Francisco can now see them. With messages streaming into her website, and her viral fame presenting a myriad of complications, she must decide: Were those ads worth the trouble they've caused? And is all this newfound attention helping her find Mr. Right?
Many of the more than 2,200 "potential suitors" around the world who've reached out to her are online bullies more interested in ridiculing her – or worse. While skimming the more threatening or misogynistic comments, Catalano said, she has seen "some of the most horrific things I've ever read."
And that doesn't even count the disturbing message-board posts targeting her family. The entire ordeal offers an important reminder to anyone looking for love in the digital age: When you make a very private part of your life public, you risk encountering a lot more than romance.
A recent Forbes survey found that 38% of dating app users have chatted with someone on an app who wasn't the person in their profile picture. More than a quarter of respondents reported being gaslighted by a match, and 21% said they'd been subjected to abuse, racism or sexism on one of the apps. Erika Kaplan, vice president of membership for Los Angeles-based matchmaking company Three Day Rule, often cautions online daters against revealing too many details about themselves to their matches, even after they've met in person once or twice.
"It's fair to assume (Catalano) was a little naive," Kaplan said. "The Internet can be a scary place, especially when matters of the heart are involved."
But as Catalano sat at a wine bar inside San Francisco's Ferry Building on a recent afternoon, she still felt pretty good about her highly visible approach to courtship. About half of the messages she's receiving are positive. Many come from women who understand her exasperation.
Studies suggest that millennial women like Catalano are more emotionally drained by dating apps than any other demographic group. The transactional nature of the apps is inherently shallow, the kind of exercise that can feel objectifying and stressful.
Throughout her adult life, Catalano has struggled with low self-confidence. Her most recent foray into the Bay Area's dating app scene left her feeling even worse about herself.
After ending a yearlong relationship in April because her then-boyfriend wouldn't commit, Catalano refused to waste any more time. She logged back on to all the major dating apps. She hired a professional photographer to take new profile pictures of her.
Two months of consistent swiping yielded one coffee date and zero meaningful connections. Months after creating her own personal dating website to cope with the disappointment, she now sifts through messages from women commending her billboard campaign.
Some wish they had the courage to do what she's doing. Others simply call her "an inspiration."
"I prepared myself for the nasty comments, but I was not prepared for all the nice things I'm receiving," Catalano said, blinking back tears. "I've had the most wonderful messages sent to me from people all over the globe. These people I've never even met are rooting for me."
Dating experts can't remember another American woman who has gone to her same lengths to find love. In spring 2024, Al Gilberti – a 70-year-old man in rural central Texas – spent US$400 (RM1,686) a week for a billboard seeking someone for "marriage and karaoke."
Several months later, a 30-year-old man from New Jersey named Mohamed Ibrahim appeared on numerous billboard ads searching for a wife, including one in New York City's Times Square. Those were part of a campaign promoting a dating app called Muzz, not the result of someone like Catalano spending their own cash.
The irony: When she first started working on MarryLisa.com in mid-June, she had no intention of marketing it. The site was just supposed to be a fun distraction from all that mindless swiping.
But the more effort she put into its design and content, the more she asked herself: How could she make people aware of it? Billboards, a hyperlocal form of advertising with significant exposure, seemed like the ideal way for Catalano to reach her target audience: educated Bay Area men in their mid-30s to mid-40s.
An alum of Santa Clara University's business-management program, she placed her digital ads along a 45-mile stretch of Highway 101 bisecting Silicon Valley. That maximizes the number of single professionals who see them during their morning and afternoon commutes. San Francisco billboards are more expensive, she said, so she decided to run ads atop the city's taxis.
Though she declined to divulge any specifics about pricing, she was adamant that the enterprise is entirely self-funded. "After this is all over, and I'm with the man I'm going to marry, I'll give you a final number," said Catalano, who also declined to reveal how she's paying for it all. "I think everybody's going to be stunned. It's a shocking amount."
Her current career situation amplifies public curiosity. Since getting laid off last fall from her administrative job with a now-defunct cosmetics company, she has worked various freelance gigs. Catalano's listed occupation – owner of a vintage clothing boutique in Monterey's historic waterfront district – is more passion project than income-generator.
Regardless of where the money is coming from, her national profile continues to balloon. When Catalano's first billboards went live on Sept 2, she figured maybe, just maybe, she'd land a couple short write-ups from Bay Area newspapers.
As of Friday afternoon, Catalano had spoken with around two dozen news outlets, including such national publications as People magazine and the New York Post. MarryLisa.com touted nearly a million page views, almost all of which had come within the previous nine days. ABC News' Nightline is expected to air a segment on her billboards.
"I'm completely exhausted," Catalano said. "It's almost like I'm famous or something. And, honestly, that's not what I wanted – at all. I just want to find my person."
Though she's vague about the details, she has been in serious relationships. In December 2023, just two days after Christmas, her fiancé died from a terminal illness. The two had been together for a decade.
Though she said she gave herself enough time to grieve his death before dating again, she has thought about him while sorting through her loads of applications from prospective suitors. Her longtime priority – having a family of her own – has never been a secret.
Still, on the "Why This Website" page at MarryLisa.com, she admits that it's reasonable for people to wonder whether she's desperate. In a social media age often focused on curating the best possible version of yourself for the internet, her site is astonishingly candid.
There are Catalano's political party (Democrat), religion (non-practicing Catholic), weight (130 pounds/59kg) and bra size (36C). Her hopes for family planning – she wants marriage and kids within the next two or three years – are also listed, just so everyone's clear. Visitors can even watch videos of her discussing everything from her feelings about kissing on a first date, to what she considers her flaws, to her crush on X-Files actor David Duchovny.
Among her thousands of applications to take her on a date: one from "Jesus Christ" and 15 from "President Donald Trump." Messages lambasting her for not being more religious or conservative are tame compared with the threads surfacing on one of the internet's most toxic sites.
Last weekend, Catalano became aware of a series of posts shared anonymously on 4chan, a well-known forum notorious for fostering hateful content. Those posts, which have since disappeared, included screenshots showing Catalano's home address, details about her financial history and personal information about her parents. Though she has taken necessary precautions, she acknowledged that "part of the security plan is not talking about the security plan."
"No one can doubt that this woman is 100% committed to finding her husband," said Jess Carbino, a Los Angeles-based online dating expert who used to work as a sociologist for the popular dating app Bumble. "I think what we're seeing from her is just the extension of a growing trend: People are more willing to put themselves out there online."
Perhaps even less surprising to Carbino and other dating experts: Of all the cities where this type of billboard campaign could occur, it's happening in the Bay Area. This region, with its high cost of living, work-centered ethos and tech-dominated economy, is widely considered one of the nation's most challenging places to date.
Amy Andersen recognised as much 22 years ago when she left a lucrative personal-finance career to found a boutique matchmaking service in Menlo Park called Linx Dating. With just 12 clients at a time and luxury packages that start at US$150,000 (RM632,550), she has built a reputation as the "Cupid of Silicon Valley" for traversing the globe to deliver millionaire tech CEOs their dream partners.
"Business is better than ever," Andersen said, "and I think we owe a lot of that to people being over online dating."
The problem: Unless you're willing to spend big money, the Bay Area's post-dating-app options can be grim. It hardly helps Catalano that her interests – crafting, clothes shopping, Celine Dion music – don't often put her in the same room as eligible bachelors. And the older she gets, the fewer single people exist in her desired age range, even on the fringes of her social circle.
"It got so bad that I had friends trying to set me up with people they didn't even know," Catalano said. "They had heard from a friend of a friend that there might be someone who might be single."
While getting up from her table at that wine bar last week, she expressed her excitement about shutting down MarryLisa.com soon to begin going on dates. An exhaustive evaluation process of candidates, which could involve the help of some of her close friends, will unfold in the makeshift "command centre" she set up at her studio apartment.
As Catalano exited the Ferry Building, two men whispered at a nearby table. "Hey, man," one said, "isn't that the 'billboard girl'?" – San Francisco Chronicle/Tribune News Service
