Matched

Thomas McAllister, with a PhD in philosophy from Harvard. He's apparently right up my alley. He loves classical while my playlist features hits from the 70's. He cooks as a hobby while I hate cooking. My kitchen cupboards are empty because I always eat takeout. While our music tastes clash, at least music is important to him.

I'm not so sure about the perfectly matched thing…

"You need someone stable. Someone who is strong, calm, and knows his own mind. And who shares your interests. He scores high on all those areas. You're a perfect match."

"I don't cook," I respond.

"You eat."

Marina matched me with him after I answered her questionnaire earlier this year. I'm one of her guinea pigs for the app she's working on with her friend Clint from Stanford. He's doing the coding and she does all the human stuff. It’s called MATCHED and is in its soft release period, where they test it out to make sure it’s ready to go before they do a full release with promotion.

I'm one of the first users and Professor McAllister is my first match.

In that moment, I wonder what Jon will think. He'll be merciless when he realizes Marina invited an outsider and that I have a date for the evening. Technically, I shouldn’t have even invited Marina, but she's my best female friend.

Jon won't approve. I know that already. He thinks the business must come first, and it has. Believe me, I've devoted myself to the business for the past three years non-stop.

He's all business and no pleasure.

I need to unwind. I want someone to pamper me, to look after me.

Frankly, I want someone in my bed. I want to feel a man on top of me, and inside of me. I've woken up too many times in the middle of a wet dream with nameless faceless men.

At one time, I thought Jon and I might get together, but when I realized what a playboy he was, I pushed him away, setting firm boundaries on our relationship. We could be friends and business partners – but no benefits other than loyalty and support.

"I need a drink."

"You need a hard dick," Marina says under her breath. "That's it. Plain and simple."

"Such a way with words," I reply. "Such deep analysis you have there, counselor. You did how many years of school to come up with that?"

"I speak the truth and you know it."

"I can't meet him now," I argue, panic rising in me that Jon will get pissed.

"If not now, when?"

I chew a fingernail and consider. "You really think he's a match?"

She nods, folding her arms. "I've got the questionnaire honed and perfected. It shows that he's definitely a match for you. You have the same interests, similar backgrounds. You have the same level of education and goals for the future."

"Jon won't like it if he shows up at the bar."

"Jon can go fuck himself. You watch. He'll be picking up some ditzy blonde before the night's over and won't think about you and what you're doing."

"He'll eviscerate Thomas."

"He'll try, but he does that to everyone. He's such a hardass."

Speaking of hardasses, Jon returns from the restaurant and sits down, taking his beer in his hand and saluting me with it. I smile back but then I get this feeling like I'm going to regret agreeing to meet Marina’s match.

“Where were you?” I say, trying to make conversation to hide my nerves.

“Talking with a former colleague of my dad’s,” Jon says and he smiles softly. “He only heard recently about it and offered his condolences.”

“That’s nice,” I say, my mind temporarily sidetracked from worries about my date by thoughts of Jon’s father. He died very rapidly and very painfully from Pancreatic Cancer. Through it all, Jon was a rock, there for his dad every moment he could spare.

I went to see him before he died, and was shocked to see how warm and affectionate Jon was with his dad. He held his father’s hand and kissed him, talking softly to him as he lay in pain, waiting for the drugs to kick in and send him into a morphine-haze.