Celebrity dating app Raya’s clients are a deadly secret kept by the elites. But I managed to infiltrate it… and you’ll never guess which A-listers popped up

I didn’t expect to find gold so quickly. There on my phone was a photo of one of the world’s most famous and beautiful comedic actors – Owen Wilson, no less – blond hair, shiny, cheeky smile, as attractive as any movie poster.

Did I want to date him? Well, I would have to move to the US, leave my kids behind and outsource my cats. . . but yes, yes, I did very well. I clicked ‘like’ and scrolled through the line of Michelin-starred men parading in front of me.

This may sound like a fever dream, but it’s the daily reality of being a member of Raya, the so-called ‘celebrity dating app’ and the one on which David Harbor – Stranger Things actor and Lily Allen’s husband – has reportedly been running a secret profile .

However, I fear that for me the Raya experience has been one of initial euphoria, followed by intense disillusionment. After my ex-husband and I split four years ago, I was excited to be on the cusp of a new dating life. We hadn’t slept in the same room in two years, let alone enjoyed exciting sex.

I was in my mid-forties, solvent and with a fairly glamorous job in PR, commuting between the Cotswolds and London. If I had to do that, I would give myself a seven or eight. Very dateable, I thought smugly, and the first place I wanted to land was Raya, the sun-drenched grass-is-greener highland of every middle-class divorcee.

Those who reportedly used it include singer John Mayer and actors Ben Affleck, Paul Mescal, Chris Rock, and of course Owen Wilson (three of this wonderful group eventually appeared on my feed). Friends of mine, giggling over spritzers at the local members club, insisted I ‘had’ to join.

Well, it wasn’t that simple. It’s said that only eight percent of applicants pass the rigorous screening process, meaning many people remain on the waiting list for years – a long, sad roll call of 100,000 people, apparently.

But who cares, I’d give it a try anyway. I filled out basic information about myself, along with my Instagram account, and had to add a few referees – friends who were members. I rubbed my hands happily. Move on to the celebrity dates.

Not yet, Raya said. I was placed on the dreaded waiting list, where I sulked for over six months. Luckily, it’s under constant review – and when I finally got notified that I was in about a year ago, I was jubilant.

But only for a while. Honestly, unless you really believe that you look like a young Angelina Jolie (at one point her ex-husband, Brad Pitt was rumored to be on the app, though that’s never been proven), you’ll probably find that Raya makes you feel inadequate.

The glimpses I’ve seen of other women suggest that they tend to be younger, prettier, and more successful than 99 percent of the women I know, and that they are also highly filtered. I refuse to filter photos of myself, or lie about my age. What’s the point?

Once on Raya, it works like any other dating app, via an algorithm, taking into account professions, preferences and interests. Other members’ profiles will appear for you to like and then reply to them. Or not.

You are not allowed to take screenshots. If you do, you will immediately receive a warning. But I was extremely disappointed with my hit rate – not even one per day – especially compared to, say, Hinge, where ‘aware’ seems to be the key requirement and I’m still, with a largely dormant account, receiving an almost daily stream of virtual red roses ‘likes’ from men half my age or twice my age.

I had very little interest in Raya. This lukewarm approach made me feel like I was on the edge of the cool bunch, where everyone was having fun and I was old and boring, which isn’t entirely untrue.

There on my phone was a photo of one of the world’s best-known and best-looking comedic actors – Owen Wilson, no less

At one point it was rumored that Brad Pitt was on the app, although this has never been proven

Among those who have used it include actors Ben Affleck (pictured), Paul Mescal, Chris Rock and singer John Mayer

I paid for the basic membership – £19.99 per month – which only allows you to view around 25 members at a time. If I liked someone, they had to like me back so we could fit together and vice versa. Then ideally we would contact you. This happened a few times, but it was nothing more than an ego boost (not you, Italian erotic artist, not you), because what was I supposed to do now?

Most of the men were in the US and only a few in Britain. Hardly one came forward that was near me. Besides, I have a school run. How should I meet for dinner in London and also put together the gym kit?

The majority of the men looked drop-dead gorgeous, except for those who were obviously super rich and/or successful.

They usually listed their jobs as working in finance or as a ‘producer/director’, while the profile pictures had a kind of alpha male identity. Here’s a photo diving off a yacht; there is one of him speaking in public, or skiing, or with a group of male friends. Many were so clean cut they looked like serial killers, think Christian Bale in American Psycho.

As proof that the world is indeed a very small place (which is why I’m impressed that David Harbor managed to maintain any form of anonymity), I also ran into quite a few people I knew: the ex-spouses of two friends and even one of my own boyfriends from the distant past. I’m pretty sure none of them would have been thrilled if they had known I was looking at their profiles, and I certainly didn’t want to date them.

As anyone who’s tried dating apps knows, there’s a certain amount of effort involved, which involves a process of sending messages, maybe a phone call, and then agreeing to meet (there’s another element that involves sending anatomical photos, but that’s not it. fortunately a problem on Raya).

I found the interaction incredibly limited. I messaged a few movie types I matched with, but had no idea what to say. “What kind of films do you direct?” I asked a director. “Successful,” was the short answer.

Another charming American director suggested we meet when he was in London for a few days. But for what (yes, I know)? Out of interest rather than any real belief that we would date, I liked every celebrity who appeared on my phone screen: Hollywood actors and musicians like Chris Rock and John Mayer, as well as homegrown people like David Walliams. But no one liked me. I suspect they are looking for something a little more glamorous than a middle-aged rural working mother of two. Or they don’t use Raya anymore.

A friend who pays for the more elite Raya Plus, which costs around £45 a month, showed me her bill. Here you can view more members at once and see who ‘likes’ you, instead of waiting for matches. But there was also a warning that some profiles were hidden for privacy, which made me wonder if there was some kind of VIP tier.

After a few months I decided there’s no point unless you’re young and super hot and live in LA, New York or London. If you have children and live in the countryside, this is almost impossible. So I quit Raya and joined Muddy Matches – which is dating for adult singles.

Let’s see how that goes.

Anna Boyd is a pseudonym. Some details have changed