The True Love Experiment

I’ve been so wrapped up in the Fizzyness of the situation tonight I’ve barely let myself think about the show. But when it’s time and everyone crowds into my living room, the nerves finally kick in. Likewise, Fizzy declines food or a glass of wine, saying she’s not sure it will stay down. Everyone tries to get Fizzy to sit on the couch in the center of the room—she is the star, after all—but she insists it will only make her more anxious. She needs space to pace and possibly escape if needed. Everyone laughs, and that’s how Fizzy ends up standing in the back with me.

The room falls into silence as the opening notes of the theme song play. The glossy True Love Experiment logo appears on the screen, followed by our host. Just as we hoped, Lanelle Turner is the perfect amount of funny and relatable as she introduces herself and explains the premise of the show. We’ll meet our Heroine, and her eight Heroes. Along with Fizzy, each contestant has undergone the popular DNADuo screening, and the results have been sealed. Not even the producers know the outcome. It will be up to the audience to follow each date and vote for who they think is Fizzy’s soulmate. Each week the votes will be tallied, and two Heroes will be eliminated. In the final episode, the DNADuo scores will be revealed, and we’ll see if the audience or science has been a better predictor of Fizzy’s soulmate. The Hero chosen by the audience will win a $100,000 cash prize, and, after the scores are revealed, Fizzy will have the chance to choose who she takes along for an all-expenses-paid trip to Fiji. Hopefully, the audience correctly chooses her true love and happily ever after.

But first, the audience gets to meet River. When Lanelle mentions his name, the room around me fills with applause, the loudest—including a few catcalls and whistles—from Nat and Fizzy. When I asked Fizzy how she managed to convince him, she first told me she used nature’s credit card. When I didn’t get it—

Sex, Connor. Oh my God, a dirty joke doesn’t work if I have to explain it!

—she said she told him that by laying out the science himself, he controlled the narrative, and therefore how people would see it. It didn’t mean he was necessarily backing the show, only his technology.

Now, footage of River walking through the halls of the Salk and working in a lab fills the screen, followed by a voiceover of him explaining the initial idea, and the years and years of research that went into developing it. He’s careful to clarify that it isn’t about finding people with similar DNA. Quite the opposite: it’s about compatibility as predicted by hundreds of validated scientific and psychological evaluations. Despite his hesitance, he’s thoughtful and charming while remaining completely impartial to the idea of the show. He’s perfect.

With the format clear, Fizzy is introduced, and again, the room fills with noise, much more exuberant this time. There’s a video montage that includes footage of her speech at UCSD, a brief breakdown of her impressive literary career, and then an interview with Fizzy on her couch at home.

“I have success and happiness on my own,” Fizzy tells the camera. “I guess what I’m looking for is someone to be my best friend and lover. Someone with whom even the silly small things are fun because we’re doing them together.”

Next to me, Fizzy groans and covers her face with her hands. When she leans forward, I see a small bruise sucked into the skin behind her ear. The sight of it makes me go hot all over. “Are you kidding?” I nudge her and redirect my focus back to the TV. “Look at you. You’re perfect.”

On-screen, the Heroes are being introduced. Because Fizzy didn’t have much of a connection with Arjun or Tex, we’ve edited it to show less of their stories and dates than the others. We won’t always be so heavy-handed, but with eight guys to get through and limited time to show it, we took Fizzy’s preferences into account and made the call. There are glimpses of the guys at home and snapshots of each of their backstories. We see Isaac with his mum and grandmother, and leading a research meeting in a glass-walled conference room. Stevie quickly announces that she wants Isaac to win. Most of Nick’s intro takes place in his veterinary practice. There are shots of him with puppies and kittens, and it gets the predictable reaction of awwwwwww from almost everyone in the room. Dax is shown jumping out of an actual plane, hanging from a cliff somewhere in Arizona, and then at a table in his parents’ home, talking about what he hopes to find on the show. We see Evan on the campus of UCSD, jogging up the steps to the engineering building. We follow him to the coffee shop where he works part-time, see him laugh with his coworkers as they good-naturedly tease him about being on a dating show. In just a few minutes on-screen, it’s clear everyone loves him.

Beside me, Fizzy spends the first half of the show looking like she might be physically ill, but by the third commercial break, she’s relaxed enough to want some wine. A good sign.

She follows me to the kitchen during commercials. The living room behind us is a rambunctious mix of voices, all shouting out their opinions and shared enthusiasm for the show. Any questions I had about its watchability and success are put to rest as the minutes go on and it’s clearly an entertaining program. Brenna is monitoring social media and says people are loving it. The show’s tags are trending. I can exhale for the first time in a fucking eternity.

Fizzy leans against the counter while I open a new bottle of wine.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Better than I expected. It’s really good, Connor.”

“You’re really good.”

“I’m serious. You took my suggestions—which, let’s be honest, were really just me starting a big game of power-play chicken—and turned them into something totally unique. A lot of people are going to watch this show and love every minute. Hell, I’d watch it. With someone else as the star, that is.”

“That’s a fucking relief, and I mean it.”

Remembering the wine bottle in my hand, I reach into the cabinet behind her for a glass, and freeze. The moment is so reminiscent of the one last night: our bodies close, sharing the same breath, my hand on the cupboard door for leverage as I pushed into her over and over, harder and harder.

Her breath catches and I watch as goose bumps erupt along her neck. I could kiss her now, and I think she’d kiss me back. If I asked her to stay after everyone left, I think she’d do that, too.

In the other room, music cuts through the air, signaling the end of the commercial break. I follow her back just as the first confessional begins. The guys each have their turn solo, and each is charming and obviously interested in Fizzy. Frankly, the idea that any of these men wouldn’t fall all over themselves to be with her is unfathomable, but our editing team—myself included—has done a good job of creatively tempering Tex’s and Arjun’s enthusiasm so no one feels too bad for them when they are likely voted off over the next twenty-four hours.

And then my confessional with Fizzy begins.

I’d neglected to mention this part to any of my family, and as my face appears on-screen, the room explodes with their noisy surprise. Nat is fucking delighted, Stevie is dancing on the couch and shouting that that’s her dad, and Ash lets everyone know that he’s just been issued a free pass to give me shit for the foreseeable future.

Next to me, Fizzy is as smug as I’ve ever seen her. “Do you see that charisma?” she calls to the room, glass held in front of her. “Hollywood, please hire me as your casting director.”

When it quiets again during another commercial, she taps me and motions to the TV. “Is now when you tell me I was right?”

“Let’s manage expectations.” Most of the room has emptied out during the break, everyone waiting for the loo or off to the kitchen to refill their drinks. “We’ll get numbers tomorrow. Your phone must be blowing up with messages. What’s everyone saying?”

Fizzy drains her glass and leans back against the couch. “Not ready for that level of reality yet. Let me stay in this soft-launch enthusiasm bubble until at least nine tomorrow morning. Then I’ll tiptoe into opinions. But for now”—she motions to the TV—“I was right about you. Say it.”

“You are occasionally clever.”

“Always.”

“An average amount.”

“Tell me I’m the best.”

I smile. “You, Fizzy, are the best.”

“Thank you, wow, I never expected such a compliment, but it means so much.” She hands me her empty glass. “Now please, more wine.”