Letter from Editor
Nico Krohn, Founder, Managing Editor
After having lived overseas for 13 years, a large, comfortable couch was much more than a piece of furniture to me. It was a symbol of what I'd left behind--and what I hoped to find again in the U.S.
In Bucharest, Romania my couch was designed for two to curl up on, entwined. I might not have anyone with whom to cocoon here, but I was determined to get a couch built for two. Eventually, I found it. Covered in velvet, with deep, down-filled cushions, my new couch was ready to sink into in August 2008, the anniversary of my return to the States. There was just one problem: it wouldn't fit up the stairwell in my newly-rented Victorian apartment. The back entrance was no better. The fragile, 100-year-old windows were out of the question. A hoist might get it onto the balcony, if the front of the house didn't peel off in the process.
It was a tense moment as my couch was hauled up to the second-floor balcony by three men with strong, wide straps--my landlady bleating in the background. At last, it made it over the railing, through the door, and into my tiny front room. But it still had to overcome the geometry of the hallway and make two tight turns to get in the living room.

Impossible, declared the movers after several tries--looking at me sympathetically. "We have lots of couches in our warehouse from people who rented Victorians. You can visit yours whenever you want."

Other people would probably have given up and begun to search for a loveseat on Craigslist. Not me. I had spent up to 15 hours per week on online dating sites and had gone on 90 first dates in just over a year--as many as seven in a weekend. I'd crammed profile details in my car, between brunch with David and coffee with Drew. I wasn't giving up the couch. It was all I had. The movers drove away shaking their heads.

Two days and $200 later, an upholsterer tore my new couch apart and rebuilt it in my living room. It didn't list. It didn't lean. It was perfect. As I drifted off to sleep on it that first night, I felt deep contentment.

But as the sky blanched into morning and I woke alone, I had to admit that my new couch was the only tangible shard of a once firmly-held belief that I could find love online. Despite a promising month or two with someone who seemed like a good match initially, I was no closer than when I began. It occurred to me then, that perhaps online dating was the quintessential Catch 22: a situation in which the desired outcome is impossible to attain because of a set of inherently illogical conditions, such as misrepresentation in profiles.

All year, I'd joked with a friend that if I were still single at the end of 12 months, I would write a book entitled, "100 Dates in 2008." After all, not much was being published about that subject, which was strange, because online dating was the third-largest revenue-grossing industry on the internet. Lifestyles magazines gave generic tips and tricks, such as "Ten Dating Red Flags," and "The Dos and Don'ts of Text Message Flirting." Mainstream press barely mentioned online dating. When it did, the articles were aimed at people who had never done it. "Independent" reviews of online dating sites ranged from positive to gushing in their praise of every site.

Nothing gave online daters well-researched, unbiased information. Nothing was critical, or even skeptical. Yet everyone I knew who was doing online dating was having mixed results--at best. That's when it hit me: an independent newsmagazine from which online daters could get accurate information, trade stories, receive advice and commiserate with others about their experiences was crying out to be created. My friend Joe Terry, an equally experienced online dater, immediately saw the need for such a publication too.

Together, we sketched out plans for our web-based newsmagazine. We wanted it to be as interactive as possible, allowing users to vote about issues and on polls, comment on articles and reviews, give dating sites ratings, start forum discussions, as well as participate in setting the agenda of topics that we covered.

Very quickly, we realized that audio podcasts, webinars, and eventually, video podcasts were important media to include. We were especially excited about DateTalk, a podcast in which people would call in with online dating dilemmas and receive advice--along with some good-natured teasing from a couple of guys with a lot of internet dating experience. Undaunted by our lack of knowledge of sound recording or editing, we bought low-end audio recording equipment and turned my dining room into a sound studio. After having spent several frustrating hours of recording nothing, I dug up a handheld digital recorder and we took our first caller, Angela--check out her call on the Dating Dilemmas page. Nine trips to the Guitar Center later, we had an audio system that worked--when a sound engineering intern was there to run it.

Now, eight months after our first discussion, Couch22 is ready to be released to users for feedback. We have added many features, including three new podcasts, and have put together a small team of young journalists, all of whom cover news and trends that affect online daters. We would love to get your reactions, comments and suggestions about our site. Our aim is to fill the online dating information void with accurate, relevant and engaging content. We are not afraid to discuss controversial topics that online daters encounter. We hope you will add your voice to our pages.

Nico Krohn
Managing Editor