Dating
by Chris Morton
This one was all right - short dress, glossy red lipstick. But she was taking out her phone already.
“You don’t hang about, do you?”
She was chewing gum, fast and swiping away. She pointed her phone at mine then screwed up her face, confused for a moment.
“You not gonna turn it on, then?”
“And what if I don’t?”
She screwed up her face some more. There was a mole on her right cheek that I was finding strangely attractive. “Listen,” I said. “How about we get to know each other first?”
She was looking around the bar. Still holding her phone, she raised it high above her head and I didn’t need to know which APP she was on because that’s what this story is about, you see. The damned MATCH APP.
Her phone lit up.
“Listen, bud,” she said. “I just been paired with three guys in this bar.” She was looking at me in the eye. I have blue eyes, did I mention that? Before this APP came along, these blue eyes were all I needed.
She was chewing her gum slowly. Chewing her gum and looking at me. “I like you.” She was scanning me up and down. “You’re fit. A hottie. Something this place is definitely lacking.”
“You’re pretty damned fine looking yourself.”
She laughed and it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. Sure, maybe a little too loud, a little too rough, and there was just a touch of falseness. But this girl had spirit. She was my type. Energy. A bit of gusto. She had a tattoo on her shoulder of a thin red dragon. Her skin was tanned, and she was large in all the right places.
She was watching me.
“Say, you got something to hide, mister?”
“Nah, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m clean. An upright standing citizen.” I was wearing a t-shirt and showed her my arms. “You ever see a junkie with skin as smooth as a baby’s behind?”
She laughed again, this time a little more gently. She placed her phone onto the glass table between us; next to her drink and mine – neither of which we had touched.
“Been sat here five seconds,” I said. “Don’t you wanna get acquainted?”
She reached out a hand and placed it on the back of my own. Then the other one too, and I was staring at her mascara. I was thinking all sorts of things you probably don’t want to know about. And what the hell? Maybe this time it would be different. We’d be the perfect match. There’d be no going back. She’d be mine tonight and later we’d have six kids and a subsidy from the city government. We’d get a house out by the coast.
Leaning forward, she gave me a peck on the nose. “Thing is,” she said. “I been there already. I’ve had my fun.”
Her eyes shifted to the left and she smiled, remembering a whole lot of fun that was none of my business.
“But I’m ready,” she said. “I wanna slow down.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I replied, seeing that this was going nowhere. “No more wasting your time with Mr Wrong.”
I lifted my hands from under hers and reached for the phone in my pocket. I turned it on and selected the MATCH APP (the official name of which it pains me to mention).
She was shifting in her seat. All but wetting herself in anticipation.
“How can you trust this thing, anyway?”
“Would you just get on with it?”
“Now hear me out a minute. Cos there’s something you should know. You see, this APP,” I told her, “it doesn’t like me much. Seems to think I’m some kind of a jerk.”
She went for her drink and shot me a look.
“Oh, come on! This is you and me, Baby! Sat here like it was before this thing was ever invented – two people, a guy and a girl. And I like you, I like the look of you. Forget about the technology.”
“Mister, I’ll give you five seconds.”
“What you tell it? Your favourite colour? Your favourite food? What kind of music you like listening to on a hot summer’s night? What’s your ideal vacation, Baby? Where’d you go? What’d you –”
“It’s more than that,” she cut in, putting down her drink. Her eyes were on my finger, on my phone and hers. “It’s science.”
“Oh, yeah, science,” I scoffed.
“You give it your blood type. And DNA,” she said, enunciating each letter.
“Hey, if it’s DNA you want, Baby, I’ve got plenty of it.”
“Ha, ha.”
She leaned back in her seat.
“You a scientist?” I asked.
“Maybe I am and you’ll never know it.”
She made as if to stand up, made as if to leave, but she had me.
I had to know.
“Wait.”
“Oh, yeah?” She frowned, pursing her lips.
“Okay, Baby. Have it your way.”
Reluctantly, I pressed down on the button.
The application whirled, coming to life in a swirl of orange.
“PLEASE WAIT,” said the message.
She was looking at her phone and I was looking at her body. At her soft pink hair and the soft down on her upper lip.
The application turned to red.
“NO MATCH.”
“Well ain’t that just great,” I said, throwing my phone back onto the table.
She already had her bag around her shoulder. She’d taken a compact and was adjusting the blush on her cheeks. “Don’t take it so hard,” she said. “I’m sure there’s someone here for you.”
She leaned forward and kissed me again, smelling of all things female and it was torture, I tell you. She ruffled at my hair – did I mention I have good hair? I’m a natural blond. The girls, they used to love that.
“This thing, it’s just a fad, you know that, don’t you? A year from now …”
But I was wasting my breath.
She was now waltzing over to a group of guys at the bar. As she got closer, they all pulled out their phones – and I swear they did so in unison.
It was shameful to watch, but one of them got lucky.
“Hey, I hope you’re happy!” I shouted.
But that was it. No need to create a scene.
Lazily I took up my phone and held it high above my head.
The same swirl of orange followed by the same red NO MATCH.
“Not a girl in this entire place …”
Goddamn APP.
The guy she was talking to had an Armani suit – the genuine article; this fellow had money and I wondered for a moment if he were cheating the system.
They say that if you’ve a high enough credit status, there are ways …
“Wanker,” I mumbled.
He had blotched cheeks and a balding hairline.
“Girl like that …”
It was nothing short of a travesty.
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