Sell Yourself! — when the cover letters and dating app prompts converge

When I was little one of my favourite pastimes was pretending I was famous, giving interviews in front of the mirror — as an adult this translated into being an expert at interviews and first dates

In the spirit of being like every other twenty-something on Substack using a Sex and the City quote as an opening line for an essay; Carrie Bradshaw famously said that In New York, they say, you're always looking for a job, a boyfriend, or an apartment. Though I’m not a New York resident, things are not so different across the pond. As I’m currently renegotiating my lease, I’ve got my eyes set on a job (first and foremost) and a man (despite all I’ve said, I’m a hopeful romantic at heart).

Putting my 10,000 hours in

They say it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert on something, and though I’m yet to hit quadruple digits, I’ve definitely put my time in for both job and relationship applications. I’ve pored over every detail on my resume and gotten feedback from friends and industry professionals. In a similar vein, once deciding to hop back on the apps, what was meant to be a chill night in with my girlfriends turned into a group project as we curated the perfect profile over (several) bottles of wine (the risks of being the designated experimental single friend). I have since become an expert at cover letters and opening lines alike. I’ve had multiple first dates and interviews in the past six months, and have quickly realised that both require a degree of curation, a level of editing and a commitment to selling yourself. You have to find the balance of being interested enough without looking desperate, I have said of both texting back your most recent match on Hinge and getting back to a recruiter. It’s gotten to the point where I’m worried that being single and unemployed has become my personal brand, and I need to branch out before I get a job and a man and have nothing else to write about.

Growing up online — image curation 101 and the ghost of your internet past

Being part of a generation that grew up on social media has definitely done a number on me. From a young age, I remember being warned that “The internet is forever,” and if Sabrina Carpenter’s [never disappointing and ever entertaining] digital footprint is anything to go by, the grown-ups in my life were right. I would say I grew up with a pretty cool mom, and when I started drinking, her main concern was that I made sure I was getting home safe, being relatively responsible and not posting anything I would come to regret. Being a very talented stalker researcher (give me a first name and a general occupation and I can get you their entire academic, professional and dating history) I was always paranoid that a future employer would find skeletons in my closet (even though the most scandalous thing I’ve ever done was get into internet beef on F1 Twitter). Even now, I need to remind myself that I’m not doing anything wrong by writing about a night out or posting a picture holding a cocktail. All of this is to say that I grew up hyperaware of how I portrayed myself. Social media has trained us to A/B test our images, the instant feedback allowing us to optimise for the best versions of ourselves.

An interlude — The obligatory about me section and a quick overview of my CV and Hinge profile, respectively

My CV covers the basics, where and what I studied, dissertation titles, relevant modules, work and volunteering experience, language skills (which I’ve been told to highlight as one of my most valuable assets), and general attributes. A brief blurb at the top is a quick pitch and should give you a general picture:

‭A Brazilian living in London having recently completed my MSc International Marketing at King’s College.‬ Having lived in Brazil, Belgium and the United Kingdom has helped me develop a global outlook.‬

What I’m really trying to get across is I’m both creative and analytical, I’m very organised and collaborative and like to be challenged. Please hire me! My Hinge profile hasn’t been updated all that recently, but hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. The idea is to give a general idea of my personality, emanate hotness, and curate the user experience once we start chatting. We start with a picture of a very tanned Julia in Greece. It’s a great picture that never got to see the light of my Instagram feed, and is therefore being put to use here. It’s a little sexy, there’s a taste of sideboob, it gets people scrolling. We then get a picture of me at a house party with a friend, sipping through a straw from a beer wedged into my pocket. It says I’m innovative and know how to have a good time! My most chat-provoking prompt? I’m weirdly attracted to… Fictional characters in white wigs. You’d be surprised at how many people have pulled out their founding father fits before I can even give more context (childhood crush on Legolas from lotr followed by an adult crush on Geralt in The Witcher, if you’re wondering).

in case you're a visual learner

On the perils of being perceived and turning yourself into a digestible and marketable candidate

Growing up on the internet can mean a lot of things, but for me it came with a crippling awareness of how others perceive you. A masters in Marketing might have been the nail in the coffin in that regard, allowing me to turn all the self-awareness I’ve developed over years in therapy into something more commercially palatable. Yes, I had spent years working on knowing myself, but what I had really become an expert in was crafting my ideal version and selling her to potential employers and partners. It wasn’t lying, it was editing. Making sure the attributes I felt were most relevant would stand out. In the same way you might offer examples of collaboration or leadership in a cover letter for a project management role, I would also do my research when talking to my most recent match. I was taught the importance of knowing your audience, the effectiveness of curated advertising.

Let’s take Matt*, a Dalston resident with a mullet and moustache (I’ll fall for it every time). His profile featured artful film shots of him walking through Broadway market, tote bag in tow, or sitting on the grass at London Fields, sipping a craft beer. He went to Harrow but would cosplay as a struggling artist/intellectual, and you’d only find out three months in when you met his schoolmates. With him, I’d rack my brain for everything I remembered from reading Proust in first year (spoiler alert: not much has stuck). Whilst my opinions on existentialism were lacklustre, he’d watch me with awe and delight as I dove into Lejeune’s autobiographical pact when dissecting his latest venture into Annie Ernaux. With him, I’d ignore every basic aspect of my personality, stashing away the Eras Tour shirt I wore to bed until further notice, and hoping things would fizzle out before autumn, lest I have to dim my excitement for pumpkin spice season.

Charlie* was an investment banker I met on a night out at Maggie’s (the spawning ground for men in gilets, if anyone is wondering, redeeming qualities include Abba blasting all night long). I’d seen him a few times before at The Drayton Arms, and was pretty excited about meeting someone in the real world. As I asked about his work, nodding along as he explained the difference between Venture Capital and Private Equity, he got me another drink. When I mentioned how much I loved The Big Short, misquoting Ryan Reynolds’ character enthusiastically, he’s my quant! my quantitative! He won a national maths competition…. IN CHINA! I saw his eyes sparkle as he finally saw my vision, the Finance Bro & Marketing Girlie power couple.

James* was another Hinge match with a mullet and a moustache. He was also 6’3 and Australian, and so I was all too happy to cross the Thames and head south for our first date. He picked a wine bar in Balham, and conversation flowed easily over a bottle of orange wine. He’d just gotten back from finding himself in Southeast Asia and was planning on spending the better part of the summer in a camper van. He’d seem genuinely excited about the prospect of swiping through the shared albums of all my latest trips, and was the best person to hit up for cheap eats recommendations in any city he’d set foot on.

It’s the journey, not the destination and other unfortunately true clichés

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t necessarily think something has failed just because it didn’t last forever. Sure, the obvious successful outcome of job hunting or dating might be a job offer and a serious relationship, respectively, but there’s still so much to be gained from the process. I’ve honed new skills (I’m an Excel fiend now), gotten advice from people with the most interesting and diverse backgrounds, explored different interests and developed a newfound confidence through the process of networking and interviewing for jobs. I’ve also become very resilient (against my will, might I add, graduating during a recession is rough). In a similar vein, I’ve discovered new parts of myself, of the city, and found new interests through the people I’ve dated. I’ve also been able to entertain my friends at length. With all that being said, I’m still on the lookout for both, and will buy you a drink of your choice in exchange for career advice or an introduction to a friend.

* Names have been changed