Matched

A Short Story

~Matched~

The grass in the park was well watered and shielded from the intense summer heat by thick trees. A refreshing breeze channeled through the greenery, keeping the strollers cool. One, a woman by the name of Emmy, was talkative, wearing a denim skirt and crop top, having fully embraced the slower pace advised by midpark strolls. Her companion, Leo, wore dark wash jeans and a clean t-shirt, though his relaxed demeanor had less to do with the breeze than his companion. They both ate strawberry ice cream; her a cone, being the bolder and more adventurous of the two, and him a cup, being more practical.

“But you have to actually go on the dates. Stop window-browsing,” Emmy said.

“I don’t know, it all feels like a marketing scam.”

When they came to a bench, Leo cleaned it with a napkin. Not totally satisfied with the cleanliness of said bench, he put his coat down for her. The two sat and enjoyed their ice creams with the relaxed demeanor of two people who would rather be nowhere else. On another bench close by them sat an older woman reading a novel. She wore a colorful paisley skirt and plenty of bangles on her wrists. This gave her the feel of a modern gypsy.

“Well, yeah, there are a lot of catfish out there. It's all a numbers game, and you've got to be smart about it, see if things don't line up in the profile. Here, I'll show you.” Emmy pulled her phone out and didn’t notice Leo’s sigh. He stabbed at his ice cream with a spoon and looked away.

Curious, the older woman watched them.

Emmy pulled up her dating app and pressed close to Leo, as she would have with any gal-pal, utterly relaxed. Mollified by her close contact, Leo looked at her screen and, with satisfaction, pronounced judgment on the contender on display.

 “Yep, trash.”

“Stop it.” She elbowed him. “Okay, so this one doesn't know how to take a good selfie, but that doesn't mean he's off the table. Maybe it indicates a lack of vanity. You've got to check out the other pictures. Oh, look! He's got a dog. So cute.”

“Probably not his. Guys know; pose with a cute puppy to make yourself seem sensitive.”

“Well, it works. That’s only a problem if he’s obsessed with his dog. So you read the profile, look through the other pictures, and... oh darn.”

Leo perked up. “What?”

“It’s his mom.”

“That’s not a bad thing. It’s good for a guy to have a good relationship with his mom.”

“Not if she’s in four of his pictures.”

“Next,” Leo agreed. Emmy swiped to the next and continued her lesson on modern dating.

“You can tell a lot from pictures, but not everything. How communicative is he? What did he write in his profile? Too little, and it's boring. He's not giving you an accurate image of himself.”

“So, you want a man who’s verbose.”

She bobbled her head. “I want to know about the guy. Give me a good snapshot of who you are, but sometimes someone can be great through messaging, and then their personality falls flat in person. There are many factors -- WOAH!”

Emmy snaped forward, staring at her screen. Leo choked on his ice cream. He thumped his chest.

“What?”

“Look at those arms!!!”

“Probably a catfish," he said, stabbing at his ice cream with disgust. She showed it to him. “Wow,” he said, impressed despite himself. Then he rallied. “But I thought you were looking for something more serious.”

“I am. I’m looking for love. I want marriage.”

“Then I don’t know why you’re online. Everyone is just looking to hook up. It’s so... transactional.”

“How many dates have you been on since I put the app on your phone?” she asked. He won’t meet her eyes, sour about this.

“Leo! None? Really?”

“I went on a couple. Like I said, they just want sex, no strings attached. Nothing real.”

“I’m certain there are great girls out there, like moi,” Emmy said with mock flattery, “who are just waiting for a great guy like you.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. He nudged her back, pleased. Unfortunately, between the phone, the ice cream cone (far less practical but far more fun than a cup), and the mock flattery,  the cone plummeted ingloriously first to her skirt and then to the pavement. “Oh, shoot.”

Leo gave her his napkins. She cleaned the skirt while he got up and cleaned the spilled ice cream.

“Here.” He passed her his cup.

“No, that’s yours.”

Leo shrugged. “I’m full. All you.” He walked away to throw out the trash.

The older woman on the neighboring bench saw her opportunity, tucked her book away, and approached.

“Hello there,” she greeted Emmy.

“Oh, hi.”

“I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with your friend.”

“Sorry about that. I didn't mean to bother you.”

Bev took the now open seat next to her.

“Not at all. It sounds like you’ve been unlucky on the dating apps.”

“Yeah, it’s all a numbers game though, right?”

“No. It’s not,” she said.

“It’s not?” Emmy asked, taken aback.

“No. The world has been turning for centuries, and the human population has grown, and marriages were made long before the internet was invented. Why your generation thinks it the best way to find the perfect match is frankly beyond me.”

Leo returned and slowed when he saw Bev in his seat.

“Leo, someone agrees with you about the dating apps. This is...”

“You can call me Bev,” she said, offering her hand to each of them. “Your friend is right; ordering men online like you order pizza will lead to nothing more than transactional, superficial relationships.”

“See. Listen to the older—” Leo broke off at Bev’s look and made a quick recovery, “wiser woman.”

“Alright, what do you recommend?” Emmy asked, not enjoying being ganged up on. These two, after all, did not know what it was like to be a woman these days.

“What has worked for many cultures throughout history,” Bev said. Leo folded his arms with a smug smile. Emmy waited. “Matchmaking.”

Leo’s eyes widened in shock, head snapping to Bev. Who was this woman?

“Huh... I don’t know about that,” Emmy said.

Bev patted her hands. “Oh, it's much more precise, my dear. Trust me. Women have a midwife for pregnancy and a realtor for housing; why wouldn't you find a matchmaker to help you find exactly the right life partner.”

“That is ridiculous,” Leo said.

“I don’t know any matchmakers.”

“Well, you're in luck, my dear. I am a matchmaker.”

Leo’s mouth dropped open, now convinced this woman was a scam artist.

Emmy frowned. “You are?”

“Yes, I am; I have a near 100% success rate.”

Emmy considered. “Really?”

“And exactly how much will it cost her for your services?” Leo demanded.

“I'm retired. That works in your favor in two ways. First, I know a LOT of people. Second: I don't charge as much as I once did.”

“How much do you charge up front?” Emmy asked.

“Nothing,” Bev said simply. Emmy and Leo stared at her, confused. “My bill is due the day you walk down the aisle in a white dress.”

“That seems like an unreasonably long wait time on your end,” Leo said, suspicious.

“I don’t do it for the money, dear. I’m a romantic at heart.”

“And how much is it?” Emmy asked.

“$2,000.”

An awkward silence ensued.

“I don’t have $2,000,” Emmy said.

“I take installments. And remember, it’s not due unless you find your match. You’ve got to ask yourself: how much is finding your future life partner worth to you?”

Leo rolled his eyes, but Emmy thought about it.

“Can I get your number?” Emmy finally asked. Leo gaped, flummoxed at the swift turn of events. Bev, meanwhile, grinned at her new client.

~

The next morning, Leo stood before the sink in his bathroom, brushing his teeth. Having just woken up, he wore pajama pants but no shirt. He spit, put the brush down, and gave himself a serious look.

He flexed his arms, trying different angles, comparing himself to the image Emmy had shown him. He was no hulk, but not too shabby all in all.

“Check out these guns, babe. This is what you’ve been missing.”

On the counter, his phone rang, Emmy calling. It startled Leo badly, as if she had just walked in on him flexing. He scrambled to pick it up, answered, and realized too late that Emmy was calling on FaceTime. Cursing silently to himself, he faced the video camera to the ceiling.

“Leo? Hey, you there?” Emmy asked.

Leo hurried out of the bathroom to the bedroom, keeping the phone facing up. The image on the phone showed an Emmy all dolled up.

“Hey, yeah. What’s up?” Leo asked, trying to keep his voice casual as he dug furiously in his shirt drawer, throwing shirts out of his way.

“I can't see you; where are you?”

“One second! I’m cooking... pasta.”

Finding an okay t-shirt, he wrestled it on, arms going wild.

“You are? That doesn’t look like your kitchen ceiling.”

 “How do you know what my kitchen ceiling looks like?” Leo asked, tangled in his shirt.

“Cause I've been there, and I pay attention to details.”

Now with the shirt on, Leo kept the phone up and walked to the kitchen. He searched desperately for props to make it look real and finally gave up, flipping the screen to face him.

“What’s up?”

“I’m on my first matchmaker date!”

“You are? Emmy, NO! Why would you—”

“I know, I know, but hear me out. I'm not meeting anybody in real life or online; this girl needs help! I want to be a mom. Time to take things seriously.”

Leo sighed. “Okay.”

“You’re my security contact. If anything happens to me, you know all the details. I'm sharing Bev's number and my location with you.”

“No, Emmy, I don’t think you have to do that—”

“In case she’s set me up with some sort of criminal ring.”

“I’m liking this less and less.”

“It’s probably fine, but you know, better safe than sorry. What about you? Any hot dates tonight?”

“Yep, three. Two of them are already married, and one runs a gentleman's club. Should I share my location with you? You know, just in case?”

Emmy grinned. “STOP!!! I'll be fine. You, meanwhile, get on the apps. Find your soul mate. Okay, wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Leo said, deadpan.

“Oh, and Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a little toothpaste on your chin.” Smirking, Emmy clicked off.

Leo froze, then crumpled over the counter, arms over his head. He moaned and banged his head against the counter. 

His phone buzzed twice as two texts came in: Bev’s Contact and Emmy’s Location.

Leo set the coffee brewing and plopped down onto the couch in his living room. He opened his dating app and started flipping through.

The second woman he came across was stunning. Leo paused and frowned, his eyes focusing: Margaret (32), a detective.

Leo sat forward, intrigued. The corner of his mouth tipped up. He debated with himself and then opened a message to her.

LEO >> You’re a detective?

MARGARET >> Yep. Any skeletons I ought to know about?

LEO >> Just that one murder thing, but that was thrown out as circumstantial evidence. Enough about me. What made you want to become a detective?

MARGARET >> … I hope you know I’m actually looking you up right now.

LEO >> *calling my lawyer*

~

Emmy entered the cute breakfast restaurant and found her date already seated.

“Hi, I’m Emmy,” she said, offering her hand.

It turned out his name was John, and by Emmy's standards, he was very handsome. Thankfully, he was interesting. Both of these aspects served to mesmerize her through the menu ordering and arrival of coffee. By the time their breakfasts were served, however, Emmy realized she ought to be sharing something about herself.

She tried, but before she could ever really get a word in edgewise, John started another fascinating story about the time he climbed Machu Pichu, or the time he went spelunking, or the time he went deep sea diving with sharks. Emmy even opened her mouth at one point, without anything interesting to say, just to test it, and John launched into a full debrief on his recent trip to Taiwan.

Emmy felt her energy fading; Breakfast had long since finished, and she eventually realized he was never going to stop talking. She edged out of the booth. He hardly seemed to notice her parting,

“It was nice to meet you.”

~

MARGARET >> Look at you, clean as a whistle.

LEO >> Don't let that record fool you; I'm plenty dangerous and exciting.

MARGARET >> I’m looking for boring and stable.

LEO >> Stability is my middle name. I have to go now: my bedtime is a firm 9:00 pm.

MARGARET >> … Too bad, I was looking forward to having someone to chat with on my stakeout.

~

Determined to get a word in edgewise this time, Emmy showed up to her second matchmaker date looking just as cute. This one was scheduled for lunchtime, however, so she could fake a business meeting if she needed a quick getaway.

“Hi, I’m Emmy,” she greeted, taking a seat.

Dan, too, was a good-looking guy, though he murmured his name so quietly that Emmy had to ask him to repeat himself. He hesitated when she offered her hand for a handshake.

Emmy forged into the conversation, determined to have a part of it. Dan nodded and ate his food, but he seemed to have a hard time with eye contact, and he did not offer much information about himself. Feeling bad and wondering if she had done the same thing to Dan that John had done to her, Emmy asked him questions, trying to draw him out of himself. Dan offered nothing more than monosyllabic answers.

Despite the hearty sandwich and salad, Emmy’s energy tanked, realizing she was dealing with a wet blanket. She glanced at her watch.

“Oh! Look at that, I have to go. Work thing. Nice to meet you.”

~

LEO >> … Where? I’ll bring coffee.

MARGARET >> That would definitely ruin the whole "undercover" bit.

LEO >> Bummer. It would have made a great first-date story to tell our kids.

MARGARET >> …

Leo bit his lip. Did he go too far?

MARGARET >> You want kids?

LEO >> I do, eventually.

MARGARET >> That’s sweet.

Leo sighed in relief. He leaned back, smiling to himself.

~

Emmy slowly entered the restaurant for her third date, nervous now. The last two dates were a disaster. She had been going to suggest a coffee spot, but Michael insisted on this specific Italian place. It was a change, so she’d put in the effort for her appearance. Emmy found him and took a seat.

“Hi, I’m Emmy.”

He was handsome, but Emmy wasn’t easily fooled anymore. She offered her hand, and Michael took it in a firm handshake, making direct eye contact.

“I'm thinking we'll have wine to start and some appetizers.”

“That sounds good,” she said.

Michael signaled the waiter.

“We'll have the 2019 cab, some crab cakes, and the hollandaise tots, and I'll have your house lasagna. Don't skimp on the parmesan.”

“Oh! We’re ordering now?” Emmy asked. Michael spread his hands in a magnanimous ‘at your leisure’ gesture. Emmy grabbed the menu and scanned through it. “Okay, let's see. Umm...”

“Wow, I’m so hungry. Rushed over here for this," Michael laughed, then said to the waiter, "Can you put a rush on the apps.”

Frazzled, she ordered the first thing her eyes landed on. “The salmon with a salad.”

The waiter left, eyes wide. Emmy watched Michael, trying to keep the frown off of her face. Leo never rushed her, even when she was torn between three options. But maybe she was late? She glanced at her watch. No, she had been right on time.

“So, tell me about yourself, Emmy.”

That gave her pause. A good start. Maybe he was hangry. Had a long day at work. Emmy shared a few details about herself just to test and see if he was really interested. He asked follow-up questions, made jokes, and shared about himself. The conversation flowed easily. Emmy relaxed and found herself smiling.

The food came out steaming, and they began their meals.

“Oh wow, this is so good. You weren’t kidding about this restaurant. Would you like to try some of the salmon?” she offered.

Michael put out his plate. He moaned with delight at the salmon. She laughed.

“The lasagna looks delicious.” Michael nodded and kept eating. “May I try some?”

Michael paused and then gave her a winning smile.

“I’m not really a sharer. Hope you don’t mind. Four brothers. You had to eat fast or go hungry.” Michael went on eating.

Emmy was shocked. She just was. He couldn’t be hangry anymore: he had devoured the appetizers and hardly left her a few bites. She rallied herself, trying to manage her emotions and re-engage.

“Wow. Four brothers. You must love family.”

“Course, they're my family. Too many kids though. Everything was always a mess. Never enough food, never enough money. I'm glad my life is simpler now.”

“But surely you want a family of your own now.”

Michael grinned and squeezed her hand.

“All I need is my woman, and I'm set. My wife wouldn't have to worry about children.”

Michael tucked in, oblivious to the stone he was now sitting across from. Emmy leaned back, sipped her water, and signaled to the waiter for the check.

~

One week after meeting her matchmaker, Emmy walked into Bev's living room, looking worn down. Bev greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Hello, dear. It’s good to see you. Make yourself comfortable.”

Bev went to the kitchen to make tea for them. Emmy wandered into the living room, which was well-decorated with paintings, pictures, and little nicknacks. The trophies of a well-traveled life. A framed photograph caught her eye, and she picked it up. He looked to be a warm man, always on the verge of laughing, a mirthful spark in his eyes. Bev came and stood next to her.

“My late husband... He was my best friend,” Bev said, a tenderness in her eyes. She took the picture and set it down, indicating the couch for Emmy to sit on. “So, why don’t you tell me: you’ve been on a few dates now. Is anyone standing out to you?”

Emmy spun and plopped down on the couch as if she was in a therapy session.

“Bev, it’s been... awful.”

“Oh no! Tell me, what was so awful?” Bev asked, hiding her mouth behind a sip of tea.

“Well, John was very handsome, but he would not stop talking about himself.”

“John is a talker, but I thought you wanted someone who was interesting.”

“He was so interesting that I don’t think I even needed to be there.”

Bev chuckled. “Then you must have liked Dan. He’s much quieter.”

“Dan. What a limp-fish! I'm pretty sure he was afraid of me. Do you know, I think he said seven words in total on our entire date?”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. Two strikes. What about Michael? I find he’s a lovely conversationalist.”

“Oh my goodness, Michael was the worst one. He pressured me to order seconds after showing up. Yeah, the conversation was okay, but I shared my food with him, and then he wouldn't share back.”

“Well, some people are territorial about their food.”

“It was completely ungentlemanly. He wants a wife to take care of him and no kids. I want kids!!!”

“You know, you're right; these men aren't right for you. Tell me what you're looking for.”

Bev picked up her notepad and began taking notes as Emmy ranted.

“I want someone attentive and kind, who thinks about my needs and comfort. Someone interesting, engaging, someone who knows his own mind and will speak up. Someone who listens to me when I speak, and not just like he's waiting for me to shut up. Who will say it if he thinks I'm wrong or missing something important. I want a partner! I want someone I can have fun with and someone open enough to start a family with.” Emmy paused. “Someone I trust enough to share my location with when I’m nervous.”

“What was that last part, dear?” Bev asked.

Emmy popped straight up.

“I’ve been so stupid.”

“No. Never!” Bev said.

“I have to go.” Emmy grabbed her purse and ran out.

~

After sorting through several options, Leo and Margaret had chosen a restaurant. Leo felt remarkably optimistic and at peace about this woman, and the two of them walked to the restaurant, chatting easily with each other.

Emmy, who had rejoiced that Leo was finally going on a date with a girl, had pestered him for all the details and thus knew exactly where he was going to be. She came running up behind him.

“Leo! Leo, I have to talk to you.”

“Emmy—what?” Leo asked, shocked. Then, remembering his manners, “Margaret, this is Emmy.”

“Hi Emmy,” Margaret said.

“Hi. Leo, we need to talk.”

“I can’t right now, Em. I’m on a date. We’ll talk after.”

“No, it’s really important. You don’t understand. I was talking with Bev—”

“Who’s Bev?” Margaret asked.

Leo pinched the bridge of his nose, dying inside. There was no way to stop this. “Her dating coach.”

“She’s a matchmaker,” Emmy corrected.

“Oh, really? How’s that been going?” Margaret asked, because Margaret was a very nice person who was starting to like Leo a lot.

“Kind of awful, actually, all of the dates have been... meh. And I told her so.”

“Did you get a refund?”

“I told her what I was actually looking for.”

“And?”

Emmy stared at Leo. After a long moment, Leo finally looked up. Understanding dawned across his face, transitioning promptly into horror.

“What?! No. Emmy, I'm on a date YOU pestered me to go on.”

“She did?” Margaret asked, unimpressed.

“I wanted to, just needed a friendly nudge. You’re great,” Leo assured her.

“Thanks....” Margaret said.

Emmy broke in, back to the point. “Really, Leo, we need to talk. I've been looking for you this whole time, and I've just been so oblivious.”

Margaret should not have been hearing any of this, and Leo finally lost it.

“Oh— NOW you figure this out? I've been in love with you for three years, and you figured it out NOW???” he demanded.

Emmy stared at Leo, stunned. Margaret cocked a brow at him.

“You have?” she asked, her voice a squeak.

Margaret, being a woman who respected herself, decided she had heard enough. "I don’t think I want to be in the middle of this," she said and walked away.

“No, Margaret, wait—” Leo followed her as she walked down the back alley to where she had parked her car. Emmy trailed behind, stunned. “Margaret, Wait!”

“Look,” Margaret said, turning on him, “my life is already complicated. I don’t want my love life to be complicated too. You guys work this out, and if you decide you’re still interested in me — more than a girl you’ve loved for three years — call me.” She left.

Leo covered his face in exasperation and kicked the wall. He turned on Emmy.

“Emmy, you are so selfish!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked quietly.

“You wanted to date other guys! That’s a pretty clear signal you’re not interested. And I watched, Emmy, I watched. You didn’t think of me that way.”

“You were in the friend box,” she said, embarrassed.

“You put me there! And you were pushing other women on me. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“I wish you had just told me. I wish you had taken the risk.”

“It’s the 2020s, Emmy! Decent guys don’t have a lot of options. We have to read the signs, and if we read them wrong, we get canceled. I felt so constrained. I decided to just hang in there and wait. But month after month, year after year, I was falling more and more in love with you, and all you cared about was the next hot thing on the block. They didn't care about you! They didn't want to make plans with you or bother to text back, and I was there for every flat tire, every midnight ice cream run, even when your cat died. I know when you're hormonal and need space, and I know the look you get when you disagree with someone and don't want to say anything about it. I know you, Emmy, but you didn't even know yourself. I hung in there, respecting you, and now that I finally tried to move on and find someone else, you decide you're interested in me?!?!”

The alleyway echoed in stunned silence. Finally, Emmy spoke.

“Would you please respect me by kissing me right now?”

Leo’s shock lasted about three seconds. He grabbed her, and they shared a passionate (long overdue) kiss.

~

Bev sat on a park bench and untwisted a butterscotch candy. From her purse, she pulled out her phone and found she had a voice message from Emmy.

“Hi, Bev. So, crazy story. You know that list of things I was looking for in a man? Turns out I had it in front of me all along. I didn't realize my best friend was exactly who I was looking for. I think I was unconsciously comparing all other men to him. Embarrassing. Anyway, you weren’t able to make my match, but in a weird way, going on all of those awful dates helped me figure out what I actually was looking for. So, thank you. Best of luck to you and your matchmaking.”

Bev put the phone away and pulled a small picture out of her purse. It was her and her husband, grinning ear to ear. She stroked it before tucking it back in her bag. She got up and walked away with a smile.

---

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