“Can you get a couple of quick shots of me? This outfit’s a bit over-the-top,” she says, referencing her puffy red sleeves, “but it matches the color palette of my feed.”
With Alisha’s phone, I snap a few photos, crouching low to capture every angle. When she’s not busy matchmaking, Alisha runs her Instagram account where she features first-date outfits styled and modeled by her. With over thirty thousand followers, Alisha’s in tune with what’s happening in the social media world. Her expertise will be invaluable for our upcoming marketing efforts.
We stroll through the outdoor veranda to the stage kitchen where countless cookbook photoshoots have undoubtedly taken place. Situated next to the long community tables is a photobooth with the words Love at First Aura scrawled across the side.
The woman at the booth gives us a warm smile as we pass by. “Welcome. Would you be interested in trying Love at First Aura? First we read your aura, then we find you a match based on your aura color.”
Alisha looks fascinated by their concept. “I love how spiritual this is. Get in!” she says, nudging me.
“What! No!” I use both my arms to push off the booth. “Great concept, though!”
“Come on!” Alisha begs. “I’ll bet you’re a deep blue and violet. Don’t you want to know who you’ll match with?”
I laugh. “Good one. Aura compatibility isn’t quite my thing. Besides, it’s not about me. Love is in the air, Alisha. Can you feel it?” I raise my hands and spin around.
She raises her eyebrows in amusement. “For everyone but you, I suppose.”
I let her comment roll off my back. Many moons ago, I did love being in love. I used to fall in love easily. Too easily. Now I know better. I’m wiser. More careful.
Randall is already behind the counter picking out his lunch, which is standard conference to-go fare, a turkey and cheddar sandwich with a bag of chips and an apple. I cherish every single bite because, even though the bread’s stale and the apple’s bruised, I’m surrounded by people who are trying to bring more love into the world. Today might as well be a holiday in my calendar.
“These sandwiches are cut into hearts!” Randall says, looking amused. His expression morphs into confusion. “What do they do with the crusts, though? Seems wasteful.”
We eat and wander, stumbling upon the designated booth section for online dating and digital apps, or in other words, Dating Purgatory. With new apps popping up all the time, I feel at ease knowing that Lunar Love focuses on in-person matchmaking where clients aren’t caught straddling the fine line of ghosting or playing the waiting game. Because we’re hands-on with our clients, no one is ever left wondering about the status of their love lives. Humans deserve more than being relegated to names like users and being worthy only if they contribute to data and bottom lines.
Alisha, Randall, and I wind through people waiting for free swag from online dating apps both big and small. I hear founders and CEOs pitching their products to the media, interested customers, and potential job candidates. In the midst of the chaos, I hear the words Chinese zodiac spoken by a person at one of the booths. I stop in my tracks as Alisha bumps into me from behind. A chip flies out of my hand and under the heel of a man’s sneaker.
“Oof! Are you okay?” she asks. “What’s up?”
“Did you hear that? Someone just said Chinese zodiac.”
“Maybe you were thinking out loud again, and you heard yourself say it,” Randall says as he looks around the crowded room. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“There it was again!” I say, leading them closer to the row of booths. As I push my way through the crowd, I can see just enough of the company’s sign over people’s heads.
My eyes scan over the words ZodiaCupid: Compatibility is in the personality.
Alisha gasps when she reads the sign. “Does that sound like what I think it sounds like?”
“It can’t be,” I say, trying to get a better look at the man speaking from the booth. He wears the confidence of a CEO and a burgundy long-sleeve shirt. It’s the Opposites Attract Guy.
I step closer to listen and get a better look at his face. A feeling of familiarity washes over me when I realize I’ve met this man before.
“No…way,” I say slowly. The air collapses out of me as though I’m a shiny heart balloon that’s just been popped.
“We’re excited about our new app that matches users based on their Chinese zodiac animal signs,” Opposites Attract Guy announces.
My heart plummets from my chest to the bottom of my stomach. Opposites Attract Guy is none other than Bakery Guy.
“Pinch me,” I squeak. “Ow! I didn’t mean both of you!”
“Any time,” Alisha and Randall say, both of them transfixed on the man.
“I can’t believe this.” I grab Alisha and Randall by their forearms. “That’s him. That’s Bakery Guy.”
“Which one?” Alisha asks eagerly, scanning the room.
“Him! The one in the booth. The guy talking!” I stare at the man in disbelief. “He was so…nice. So charming.”
“He still seems nice and charming, no?” Randall asks.
“Not anymore! Do you think he was spying on me?” I say, my mind racing.
Alisha snorts. “Liv, you taking over Lunar Love hasn’t been announced yet to the public. How could he have known? Besides, if he asked for your number at the bakery, then I’d worry. But he didn’t, so it doesn’t sound like he knows who you are.”
Her words hit harder than they should. “Uh-huh.” I can’t take my eyes off Bakery Guy. “It’s not like I would’ve given him my number anyways,” I justify. Why didn’t he ask for my number? Any onlooker would’ve thought there was a connection there. But with his magnetic personality, he probably connects with everyone like that.
Bakery Guy speaks animatedly, waving his hands around when he shares vague data points and ideas. He’s careful not to give away too many details, sticking with loose explanations of what the app is and how it works.
“To us, compatibility has a broader definition. We’re doing things a bit differently, as you’ll see,” he announces to the crowd.
I clench my jaw. “Different? Different how?”
“Maybe they’ve made up twelve different animals completely,” Randall offers. “I always thought Dolphins and Pandas were unfairly left out.”
“Are they seriously calling themselves ZodiaCupid?” I huff. “He basically stole the idea of our business and digitalized it. He can’t do this to Pó Po’s legacy! And those poor people in Digital Purgatory!”
I cross my arms and watch as Team ZodiaCupid high-five each other and toss branded T-shirts and zip hoodies into the enthused crowd. Bakery Guy’s features don’t look so appealing anymore. Instead, he just looks smug and deceitful.
“Their marketing budget must be insane,” Alisha says, nearly knocking a woman over in a desperate attempt to catch a hoodie in midair. “Ooh, these feel like eco-fleece!”
“Wow, that’s soft,” I say, running my hand along the arm of the hoodie.