The Price of Attention: A Historical Perspective on Modern Dating

In Ancient Rome, a bride was literally purchased. It was not a metaphor, but a real ritual known as coemptio. In the presence of witnesses, the groom would hand the bride's father a coin. From that moment, the woman passed entirely under the authority of her husband. There was no romance involved, just a straightforward transaction: if you wanted her, you paid her father.

Thousands of years have passed. The coin has vanished, but the transaction remains; it has simply changed into more respectable attire.

Letters, Rituals and Bargaining

In 17th-century Versailles, the price of a lady's attention was measured in letters. It was never just one; correspondence would stretch for months, sometimes years, handled through intermediaries with a mandatory set of rituals: gifts, visits, dances, and more letters. A suitor paid with time and patience. At court, a single season of courtship often lasted longer than entire modern relationships do from meeting to breakup.

In Japan, there was a different system involving geishas. Their motto was clear: they sold art, not their bodies. This included conversation, music, attention, and the feeling of being truly listened to all evening. It was paid for, transparent, and lacked the pretense of love. Sex was sold by others, such as the oiran courtesans—a separate profession with a separate price list. The geisha traded only in pure, unadulterated attention. In many ways, this was more honest than the behavior of a typical European suitor of the time, who might swear undying love only to demand that same attention for free.

The 20th century brought dinner dates and cinema tickets. The argument over 'who pays on the first date' is still very much alive, having merely migrated to social media comment sections. The core question has always been the same: what is someone's attention worth, and who is paying for it?

The Digital Age: Paying with Time, Not Money

Then came dating apps, and the currency shifted to time. We see endless swiping and dozens of conversations without a single meeting. Weeks go by trying to figure out if the person on the other end is serious or just scrolling out of boredom. The price remains, but we stopped naming it. A Roman knew the price of the transaction in advance; a modern person often only discovers it after three weeks of texting.

We pay for attention while simultaneously pretending that is not what is happening. We spend hours on casual chats and years on relationships without direction. Yet, saying out loud what the Romans and geishas knew—that attention has a price—is somehow considered shameful.

Where does this shame come from? It stems from the idea that 'real' feelings are priceless, and therefore discussing the cost is vulgar. This does not remove the cost; it only removes the conversation about it. Both parties end up wasting time, guessing at rules that no one ever bothered to voice.

'Let's see how it goes,' 'Let's not rush things,' or 'We're just hanging out.' Do these sound familiar? Behind each phrase lies the same bargaining process used by the Romans, just without a stated price. A geisha could name the price for five minutes of conversation, yet modern couples sometimes cannot define their expectations even after a year together.

Due Diligence in Human Terms

In business, nobody invests money without first checking the terms. This is 'due diligence'—a basic rule. In relationships, the standard approach is the opposite: three months of emotional investment before realizing both parties were never on the same page to begin with.

The sunk cost fallacy in dating works just like it does on the stock market. You hold onto a failing stock because you hate to sell after all the money you have already put in. You hold onto a relationship with no future because you hate to 'waste' the three months you already spent texting. The logic is identical; on the stock market, it is called a mistake, but in relationships, it is often mislabeled as patience.

It avoids the 'just hanging out' game that leads nowhere.

The geisha knew the value of the situation before it became awkward. Perhaps the real secret was not the calculation, but the fact that no one was lying to anyone else.