Prompt: Write a story about someone who works at a dating agency.
As I was finishing this I wondered why it is I nearly always write in first person.
All those lonely people
Of which I am one.
But, sh, no one knows.
It helps that I work in a cubicle
Reviewing online profiles for policy breaches,
Matchmaking based on algorythms
Love in the twenty first century
Lives manipulated by online searches
Messages, chats, picks of the day,
Determine the depth of the search
What you can see
Who you can get.
All those people
For the right guy or girl, man or woman, gentleman or lady.
It’s all done the same.
Create a profile
Pay for upgrades
Pay for the opportunity to go
On what is really a blind date,
Except the person setting you up
Is a computer program
Most likely written
In windowless rooms
By people who swore they would never use this kind of service,
And probably are.
Assisted by me.
Looking for a
With a SWM.
Change the profile every month or so,
And away I go
Into my fantasy messaging world
With invisible men.
Just like our customers
Wondering if the profile I am reading
What was left out
What was embellished
So many questions
That can only be answered in person,
Which I and my coworkers can’t help with,
Although we do sometimes fantasize and make up stories
About our clients meeting,
But those are stories I would be too embarrassed to share.
Some are kind of sick, actually.
As for me,
I enjoy skimming profiles
And trying to envision what is fact and what is fiction,
Who took the photos,
And why so many men submit sideways photos.
I do my best talking at a keyboard
With my fingers and a screen,
Reviewing profiles of people I will never meet,
Wondering if the match software will be cupid for this one.
I sometimes sing while working,
Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match
As I try to do my part
To create romance by computer.
“Here comes the bride.”