Matched

Crap.

I watch her walk down the street until she disappears around the corner.

Now what the fuck do I do?

I sit back down behind my desk and glower at my computer screen. On it, a report on third quarter projections sits unread. I try to read it, but end up only re-reading the same sentence over and over.

Then Marina sends me a text.

MARINA: I have a new match for you. If you want to meet her, she's ready and willing! She'd like to meet at Mulvaney's for a drink if you're interested. I'll send you her profile but she's a massage therapist with an interest in interior decoration and real estate flipping. She's twenty-five and has a certificate in massage therapy from the Brookbridge Institute. You can see that she's gorgeous and blonde, just the way you like them! Tell me this isn't a perfect match! Let me know when you want to meet her.

I read over the profile Marina sent to my email. The photo depicts a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and lots of makeup. She's wearing something seductive – a deep-cut sweater that shows off ample cleavage.

Typical of Marina to have matched me with someone who is everything I would normally prefer in a woman – beautiful, blonde, tall, built, and looking for an uncomplicated relationship for fun and social engagements: No long-term commitments! I'm too young!

I want to put her off, but make her think I support her. For India's sake.

JON: She's lovely, but I'm too busy right now with work to be meeting anyone. Maybe after a few of our upcoming business trips and contract negotiations are finished.

MARINA: So you like her? She's perfect, right? I'll tell her you’re definitely interested but maybe in a few weeks?

JON: I'll let you know if and when I'm available. How's that sound?

MARINA: Okay. Don't wait too long. A beautiful woman like her will be snapped up quickly.

JON: I'm sure she will be. By the way, I thought your app was for Stanford grads. None of the women you've matched me with are from Stanford.

MARINA: Oh, it's for Stanford men, mostly.

JON: But you're matching India…

MARINA: She's just a test subject to see if I can match Stanford women. There not as plentiful in grad school – only thirty-nine percent – so I'm focusing on the men first. They're pretty easy – a beautiful woman, great figure, smile, and easy-going attitude. Most men are intimidated by a woman as smart and successful as India, so only the most confident and successful guys will do in her case.

JON: I think that's sexist, isn’t it?

MARINA: No, it's realist, Jon. In case you didn’t live in the real world. Which you don't. I mean, you’re the CEO of a multimillion-dollar tech company. You're handsome and well-educated. You have your pick of the crop as a result. Not all Stanford grads are as successful as you or have the same options as you. You live in a very rarefied atmosphere.

JON: Yes, I realize that. I don’t need your app to find a date, Marina. I'm only going along to help you out because you’re India's friend.

MARINA: I know you don't need my help getting laid, Jon. But finding a girlfriend? Maybe, yes. In fact, I think so. Definitely.

JON: I don’t need help finding a girlfriend, Marina. Given MATCHED's failure to find me anyone even remotely interesting, I think you better go back to the drawing board.

Oh, crap… Now I’ve done it.

MARINA: ‘Remotely interesting’? Those women were beautiful and sexy and would have been happy to go home with you. That's always been good enough for you before.

JON: It's obvious we don't see eye to eye on this. I gotta go and get some work done.

MARINA: So, do I strike you off my list of customers?

JON: Yes, please do.

I turn off my cell and slam it down on the desktop.

Goddamn meddling woman.

I spend another couple of hours at work and then plan to leave just after five. Everyone else has left for the day, so I close up and walk down to the parking garage where I keep my vehicle. I get inside and sit there, wondering what the fuck is going on with India.