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"We can drive together. I have a car picking me up."
She smiles and leaves me alone in the boardroom, which is a good thing because I still have an erection despite the talk about flights and hotel rooms. I want it to die down to at least half-staff before I head to the washroom to relieve myself.
Before I can, I get a text from Marina.
MARINA: I want you to redo the questionnaire for me before the party on Saturday. I'll match you with someone.
I frown. I don't need an app to find sex partners. I find them on my own quite well.
JON: I don't need a date, Marina. Seriously. I have my fill of women when I want them.
MARINA: I know, I know. But I made some tweaks to the questionnaire and want to test if I can match you up with someone perfect for you. You're the hardest nut to crack, Jon. Seriously. If I can find someone for you, I’ll know the app will be a success. Pretty please with probably a great fuck out of the deal?
I sigh.
JON: Your app didn't do a very good job with India. In fact, I have it on good authority that it was a total flop.
MARINA: I know. That's why I need your help. You did promise to help me revise the questionnaire.
Even though I know she won't stop pestering me, I can't stop myself from arguing.
JON: I don't do relationships. I'm too busy to get mixed up with anyone at the moment. I don't have time for anything more than sex. We've gone over this before.
MARINA: Jon, just because you got one 'Dear Jon' letter when you were in the Army doesn’t mean all women are unfaithful. Some women are totally faithful. You have to learn to trust again.
JON: Okay. I'll redo your damn questionnaire. But I don't promise anything about going on an actual date.
MARINA: Thanks so much! I'll send the link to the online form right over. I promise you can back out of any date I arrange for you if you don't feel it.
JON: That's my price. If I don't like the woman, I won't go on a date.
MARINA: Agreed. Fill it out and submit it. I'll run it through the system and we'll arrange a meeting with the lucky winner. How does that sound?
JON: Fine. But I'm only doing it because you're India's best friend. You understand that, right?
MARINA: I do. Trust me on this. I'm sure I can find you the perfect match.
JON: There is no such thing, Marina. That's for fairy tales.
MARINA: Okay, old man. Shake your cane at me. I still believe in love.
JON: Later.
I read over our texts and smile to myself. The woman is a born romantic.
The perfect woman for me doesn't exist. I thought I’d had one. Dee. When I went away to enlist, she promised to wait for me to return. It wasn’t even six months before I got the Dear Jon letter and learned she'd hooked up with an old friend of mine who stayed behind.
I go to the executive washroom, locking the door behind me, and bea
t off, thinking about India the entire time.
That's twice in the space of twenty-four hours.
I need a vacation.
Before I leave the office, I open the link and fill out the online questionnaire. It asks dozens of questions about interests and preferences – nothing I haven't seen before on the kind of interest inventories they do in business school.
If it wasn't the fact that Marina is India's best friend, I'd never even think about doing the questionnaire.
