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“No, I do,” he says. “You’re a smart, ambitious woman. You’re beautiful. I could see the two of us enjoying time together, spending days working and nights playing games. But it wouldn’t matter if you were the world’s best match. If you are the world’s best match for me. I’m not ready.”
I don’t know what to say to that. It should be an insult, since he’s supposed to want me. It should be a relief, since I’m not feeling this, either.
Is it really that simple?
He’s not ready.
I’m not ready.
The stars don’t align.
Thankfully, the server saves me from a response. He sets our drinks on the table, turns, and leaves us in awkward silence.
Well, awkward silence and Bach.
Dad’s favorite.
He holds up his glass of wine to toast. “Can I tell you something?”
“Why not?”
“She asked me to vet the app by testing it, even though I told her I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. I did ask a friend to look at the code, though. He said it’s brilliant.”
“Thank you.”
“Whatever happens, I’ll tell her this was a fabulous date. I’ll insist we sign.”
“Can you do that?”
“We’re fifty/fifty partners,” he says. “But she’ll agree. She likes you. She sees herself in you.”
“But she still set us up?”
His laugh is hearty and honest. Exactly the way someone should act on a date. “It is strange. I think she blames herself.”
“For what?”
“My divorce.”
He’s divorced. That’s a bad sign, statistically speaking. People who are divorced are more likely to divorce again. But then men who were married are more likely to make another lifelong commitment.
Otherwise, he’s perfect on paper.
He’s perfect on paper—according tomycriteria—and I can’t bring myself to feel anything.
Maybe I could if things were different, if I had access to my heart.
“My ex-wife confided in her,” he says. “About her feelings for someone else. She knew things were over before I did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says. “We didn’t belong together.”
“We do.” I swallow another sip, but the mix of lime and sugar and quinine and gin fails to steady me. “According to the algo.”
“Is it always right?” he asks.
“Not exactly,” I say. There are factors we can’t measure yet. Maybe there are factors we’ll never be able to measure. It’s not as if any one match is guaranteed to work. It’s more that a person who has ten great matches is extremely likely to find a stable relationship with at least one of them. “Statistically, it’s likely we could have a great long-term relationship. There’s a very high chance. But there’s no such thing as a sure thing. That’s what the data says.”
