Chloe read the website again.
“Guaranteed matchmaking. We’ll hook you up with what you need. Looking for that lifelong soulmate to nuzzle with by the fire. No problem. Can’t remember the last time you got laid, we can help with that too.”
She adjusted the strap of her green tank top. Chloe was intrigued.
Her laptop sat on her kitchen table amid a myriad of magazines, unopened junk mail and some leftover pasta she was eating bites of in between clicks.
She wouldn’t have necessarily classified herself in either of those two extreme categories, but something in the middle would be nice. Maybe a somewhat steady boyfriend with some – how should she say – skills would be nice.
“Really”, she thought to herself, “Why not?” She was sick of the never ending barage of unsuitables being presented by people she worked with, her friends from college, even her parents had gotten into the act lately as they conspired with their friends who also had unattached offspring.
She couldn’t believe that she was signing up for this site – DatesOrMates.com. But, it was Sunday night – Chloe’s most depressing day of the week. Nothing to do but dread the long work week ahead. There were only so many blogs she could read – living vicariously through posts of people who led seemingly infinitely more interesting lives than herself. – feeling disappointed when there was nothing new. As if the lack of a post indicated a temporary lack of that person’s existence.
After registration, there was a lengthy page asking a bunch of questions of varying degrees of relevance, Chloe thought. She immediately skipped down to the “Sex & Personal Hygiene” section. Why the site’s creators and grouped those two together was slightly bothersome. But, she persevered.
The first question:
How many times per week do you prefer to have sex?
a) Don’t you mean per month?
b) 1-2
c) 3-4
d) 5-6
e) 7+
This was going to be a tough one, she thought. What exactly constituties one sex? One orgasm? One for the guy or one for the girl? She began to mentally tally what her answer should be. Saturday night was a given. Wasn’t Saturday night and sex synonymous? Well, not exactly in her life lately, but in general surely it had to be that way.
Friday too – definitely. So, there’s two already and we’re still talking about the weekend. But what if Friday had been a long day at work. Maybe not Friday. She was usually pretty beat by the time Friday night rolled around.
Chloe found some paper and a pen. She wrote the days of the week down the left hand side. Monday was Zumba class after work. She was always tired and sweaty after that, so Monday was probably out. But, on the other hand, all of that Latin music, swiveling hips, the instructor . . . Monday was back in. She drew a smiley face next to it on her chart.
Her favorite TV show was on Tuesday, so Tuesday got a big X. But Wedesday was definitely in. Half way through the week. Sometimes she went to happy hour for ladies night. Yep, definitely Wednesday. Sunday, too was in. Sunday might actually get two smileys.
How many was she up to now? Adding it up, she was either at the high-end of C or a low D.
Yikes. Which would guys like more? Did it matter? Wasn’t she supposed to answer this thing honestly. Biting down on lip, she clicked on the button next to D and moved on.
Finally after finishing the less interesting questions, she hit the submit button and wondered what would happen next.
