“Oh, no, no, no. You have to find me on there. On the site. You have to describe me to find me.”
“Yeah, but where you live has nothing to do with you as a person, as a candidate for a dating site.”
“On the contrary. Where a person lives says a lot about them.”
I shrug. “Fine.” I click on the geographical region that puts him within fifty miles of the warehouse. Done. “Okay, then, we’re all set. You ready to go?”
“I was born ready.”
I click the Search button, feeling silly that my pulse is racing a little. There’s a little heart icon spinning on the screen, telling us that the results are being gathered. It’s taking a lot longer than I expected it would, but this is encouraging. I think it means that the list is going to be short.
I turn to look at him. “You know you could just give up now. Admit defeat.”
He laughs. “I could say the same for you. It’s not too late. The results aren’t in yet.”
I shake my head. “Huh-uh, forget it. I am so going to win this.”
The heart icon finally stops spinning and a new window pops up with a list of candidate profiles. Each one is a single line with a quote from the beginning of their personal statements. There are no pictures and no real names, just usernames.
“Oh, ho ho!” I say. “A new level of challenge to the game.” I scan down the list, seeing if anything jumps out at me. There are two that look particularly promising, but because it’s such a small snippet of what the person has put about himself, there’s no way for me to be sure until I click on the links and read more.
I look at Dev again. “Care to raise the stakes?”
“What were the stakes exactly?”
I have to think about that for a second. Did we have stakes? I can’t even remember what got us in front of this computer together now. “Actually, I have no idea.”
“Dinner?”
I’m confused by his response. “The pizza? You already paid for it.”
“No, not the pizza. Another dinner. Winner gets treated, loser pays.”
I nod. Now we’re playing for realsies. And this is something I can actually enjoy. I mean winning is awesome, but winning a meal with a hot guy is better, even if it’s just a friend thing. “You’re on. So, what’re the rules?”
He shrugs. “You tell me.”
I like that I get to be the one to decide how we play the game. With great power comes great responsibility; I learned that from Spider-Man. “Okay, so we have a list of candidates here, and I suspect that of the people on this list, you are one.”
I wait for his response, but he’s like a world-class poker player the way he has zero expression on his face. Dammit.
I continue. “I will keep it like this where I can’t see any photographs, and using just these simple one-liners I will select my top three choices. These will be the three people who I believe could be you.”
“I thought you were supposed to pick me right off the bat.”
I hold up a finger. “Let me finish. Right now all I can see is a single sentence, which isn’t much to go on. So I will click the Read More links on only three of the candidates, and I won’t look at the photos. And after I have read the details on those three candidates, I will tell you which one is you.”
“How can I keep you from looking at the photographs?”
I scan the site really quick and point at the screen. “Look. You can choose to browse without photos. That way, there’ll be no cheating.”
“I can deal with that.” He looks very happy with himself.
We’ll see who’s smiling when this is all over. “Ready to go?”
His grin is so big, I’m suddenly very suspicious. “Oh, yeah, no doubt,” he says. “Let’s go. I’m definitely ready to have a delicious free meal. Did I mention I have a big appetite?”
The deal has been struck and the challenge laid down. Unfortunately for him, it will be me enjoying a delicious dinner paid for by him, not the other way around. Ha!
I scroll through the twenty-four choices I’ve been given, making sure to de-select the photo option. Most of the profiles’ one-liners are too corny to have been written by Dev; at least thirty percent of them mention how they like long walks on the beach or reading poetry. Bleck. Dev is way more original than that.
There are actually five double-click possibilities. I chew my lip as I try to decide which three are more likely. I finally eliminate two when I see that they lack the more unique romantic vibe that I think Dev might have inside him. He could have left me in the dust at the warehouse, but his first priority was convincing me to let him play savior. That’s knight-in-shining-armor material right there.
I’m now left with three candidates. The first ad’s one-liner says: ‘Still looking for my favorite person.’ The second ad says: ‘I believe in love at first sight.’ And the third ad says: ‘Take my hand, and we’ll wander off somewhere together.’ I delete all but those three candidates from the screen and swivel my chair sideways to face Dev. “Okay, I’m almost there. One of these is you.”