The Blind Date

She makes me laugh again, something I rarely do but have done at least three times this morning from her words on my phone screen. I do not like the idea of men messaging offers to be sugar daddies on BlindDate. That’s not what it’s for, but it’s not against the terms of service and might be exactly what someone is looking for. Still, I make a note to check into that along with the other things I’ve written down for review.

Me: I’ll let you have that win. So, what brought you to BlindDate?

R: Honestly? My friend talked me into it because I’d like to find someone who’s interested in more than surface things. That’s really appealing to me. What about you?

I feel like that might be code for ‘I have a great personality but look like I was hit with the ugly stick a few too many times,’ and a shock of nerves worms through me. But this is exactly why River and I made BlindDate, so people could get to know each other and then meet without letting appearances be the sum total of the first impression. Maybe Rachel’s sense of humor will make her seem like a ten even if she’s more of a six? That’s the theory I sold Elisa, and I do believe it. It’s just interesting to test my dedication to the idea on myself.

M: Well, I guess the same things. I mean, we probably should start with some of the superficial things, of course, but I’m looking for more than that.

I wait nervously, surprised at that. But she quickly replies.

R: Superficial stuff? Okay, I’ll go first . . .

I wait for her to ask for a physical description as the three tiny dots appear, but what comes across is different from what I expect. Which is already an ‘as usual’ situation with Rachel.

R: Are you married? Kids? Not a deal-breaker. Well, the kids aren’t unless you’re a deadbeat dad. But being married is a ‘no-go, do not pass go, do not collect $200, go straight to jail and stew in your affair’ situation.

Me: Tell me how you really feel. LOL, no kids, not married, now or ever. You?

Oh, fuck. I typed LOL back. She’s already rubbing off on me. But for some reason, I smile as I think it. And I make a note to add some info options to the app. We have marital status listed, but some specific questions in the survey would ensure that people with strong preferences one way or another don’t get matched up with someone incompatible.

R: No exes stalking about and no kids. Yet. I love ’em, drooly bits and all, but ideally, I want to be settled before having one. A partner who’s onboard with Team Us, you know?

Me: I like that—Team Us. So, if you’re not changing diapers, what are you doing? Like, what do you do for a living?

R: I work online. I love it and the flexibility it gives me. I can work anywhere, anytime. If an idea strikes, I can sit down on a park bench, log in, and work away. Or if I need to take a day or two off, I can. What about you?

I notice she doesn’t say exactly what she does, which might be a waving red flag to some people, but I can understand her reticence. Especially these days when people can easily be looked up online. And I don’t get the feeling that she’s hiding anything, more that she’s cautious. Plus, I’m reluctant to share my work too.

Me: I’m an executive here in Briar Rose, currently working from my couch because they think I’m a workaholic if I show up at the office on Saturdays.

Might as well rip that Band-Aid off because it’s the truth, and if she’s put off by my work habits, we can stop this before it goes any further.

R: I’m sitting on my couch, laptop beside me to work and phone in my hand to message you. We might be two peas in a pod, after all. Ninety-six percent? I see you.

Guess my overachiever status doesn’t bother her. I’m glad because I find I’m enjoying the back-and-forth banter and don’t want it to end. We keep chatting, and soon, time means nothing to me. For the first time in years, I’m having a conversation with someone and I’m not thinking about the hundred other things on my agenda. I’m totally focused on Rachel, smiling when she says something funny or quirky, my eyebrows rising when she says something insightful.

I had faith in the AI before, but it was in a nondescript, intangible way. Now, it’s real and almost magical. I’m going to owe the psychologists and coders a big thank you, maybe even a cookie basket and a raise. Having long ago forgotten about my laptop, I doodle ‘cookie’ on my notepad over and over with one hand. In the other, I hold my phone so I can see Rachel’s messages immediately as they come across.