I recently learned about something called the 37% rule, which sounds less like a mathematical theory and more like a suspicious diet plan.

Apparently, it comes from the optimal stopping problem, which is a very polite, academic way of saying:

“How long should I keep scrolling before I commit to something and stop ruining my own life?”

The rule goes like this. Reject the first 37% of options. Then pick the next one that’s better than all the previous ones.

Simple. Elegant. Slightly unhinged when applied to real life.

Naturally, people have decided to apply this to dating.

Because nothing says romance like turning your love life into a spreadsheet.

“Sorry, you were emotionally available and kind, but unfortunately you fell into my exploratory rejection phase.”

But I would like to propose a better use case.

Dumplings!!

Stay with me.

Let’s say I am on a sacred, spiritual journey, also known as dumpling hunting. I plan to try 100 dumpling spots in my lifetime (a conservative estimate).

According to the 37% rule, I must:

1.  Eat 37 dumplings
2. Reject all of them (emotionally devastating)
3. Then commit to the first dumpling that is better than all previous dumplings

This raises several important psychological questions:

1. What if dumpling #12 was my soulmate? Am I just supposed to ghost it for the sake of math?

2. What if I get dumpling fatigue?
 Around dumpling #29, am I even capable of sound judgment, or am I just a sodium-driven hallucination?

3. What if every dumpling after 37 is fine? Have I optimized my life or just created a high-stakes carb-based anxiety disorder?

Here’s the real issue.

The 37% rule assumes that there are a fixed number of choices, clear ranking criteria, and a calm, rational decision-maker

Which is adorable. Because in real life, we are emotionally biased,  intermittently hungry, and occasionally attached to things that make no statistical sense

(Again: dumpling #12. I’m not over it.)

From a psychological perspective, the 37% rule is less about truth and more about tolerance for uncertainty. It’s trying to solve the unbearable human problem of seeing guessing ourselves.

So we outsource the decision to math. Because math feels clean.

Math doesn’t have attachment wounds. Math has never texted someone it shouldn’t have. But here’s the quiet rebellion. Life may not be an optimization problem.

It may be a savoring problem. A meaning-making problem. A “why am I emotionally attached to this dumpling” problem.

So yes. Try the 37% rule if you must.

Apply it to dating. To careers. To dumplings.

But just know that somewhere around option #12, your nervous system may lean in and whisper that it may be the one.

And no algorithm, no matter how elegant, can compete with that.

Also, for the record.

I will not be rejecting the first 37 dumplings. I have boundaries and a hunger.