Q*pid

by Xavier Mayne

She nodded. “In every aspect except Parameter Three, you two are as solid a match as Archer ever made.”

  Fox sat back hard. So it was true. Drew really was his 99.5. The only one he’d ever gotten. His best match ever.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Drew said merrily. “You told him that the dating brain really did match us up and that we are quantitatively a couple. I think he may end up proposing to me now.”

  They all laughed, even the serious Miyoko.

  “Would you,” Miyoko said once the laughter had faded, “recommend that Q*pid consider making matches discordant on Parameter Three for more people?”

  “Did anyone else get matched like we did?” Fox replied.

  “No,” Veera answered. “We were able to pull all but your match notification and one other. The other two customers deleted the match once they received the email telling them it was a mistake—”

  “But it wasn’t a mistake, was it?” Drew interrupted.

  “No, it wasn’t. They had a match potential of 99.3 percent,” Veera said.

  “Well, that’s tragic,” Fox said quietly. “They’ll never know what it’s like to find someone who’s perfect for them.” He looked at Drew, feeling deep pity for the other couple who missed out.

  “So I think you have your answer,” Drew said. “Of course you should make the best matches you can, even if it means ignoring your hallowed Parameter Three.”

  “But you should probably give people a heads-up that it’s an option,” Fox said, recalling having to fish his phone out from under his dresser after seeing Drew’s face in his match queue. “So they aren’t startled.”

  Veera and Miyoko shared a glance. Miyoko nodded.

  “Alexis, would you like to join us?” Miyoko asked turning slightly toward the mirror that took up most of the wall to her left.

  “I thought you’d never ask, honey,” came the reply over speakers in the room’s ceiling.

  A moment later, the door opened and another woman swept in, a broad smile on her face. She had an obvious air of authority, with an intense but friendly demeanor. She struck Fox as pleasantly formidable.

  “Fox, Drew, I’m delighted to meet you. I’m Alexis, the director of public relations for Q*pid. Can I just tell you how much your story has inspired me? The thought that you two might never have met if Archer hadn’t gone rogue one Saturday morning—oh, it’s too terrible to contemplate! Now, I’d like to talk with you, if I could, about the possibility of your helping other customers who might benefit from their dating horizons being expanded the way yours were.” She sat next to Miyoko and blinked expectantly at the men.

  Fox was not unaccustomed to the polished bluster of PR professionals, but this elegant tornado was in a class all her own. “I’m intrigued, but I’d like to know more about what you have in mind.”

  “As I sat and listened to the two of you talk about your experience, I will admit I got a little weepy thinking about all of the men and women who are not aware that the love of their lives may be out there, but that person isn’t even considered because of the way they have configured their profile. It’s too, too sad.” She looked to be on the verge of bursting into tears on the spot.

  “But you can’t ask people for their preferences and then ignore what they tell you,” Fox replied.

  “That’s where Archer comes in,” Drew said. “Right, Veera? Profile preferences are simply a starting point.”

  Veera beamed. “Exactly. That’s the entire purpose. Preferences are important, but they shouldn’t get in the way of a true match based on a wider range of data.”

  “But people aren’t the sum of their online activities,” Fox said. “They construct a persona—sometimes several—and they become that person online, even if they aren’t like that in person.”

  Veera nodded eagerly, clearly warming to the topic. “That would be true if Archer simply scraped public activity. No one is who they claim to be on Instagram or Tumblr or even Facebook. But because of the access he is granted, he is able to take in huge amounts of data that are not public. He considers everything a person does online—the relationships, the reactions to news stories, the things they Google when no one’s looking. He records what people write in text messages and then delete because it exposes too much of themselves. He doesn’t just know what kinds of YouTube videos people watch, he records where they look when one is playing.”

  Fox’s brow furrowed. “How does that help build a profile?”

  “Think about two people watching a clip of last night’s baseball game. Now, if they are simply watching the same video, that might signal a mutual interest in sports. But if one person watches the ball as it flies across the screen and the other stays focused on the face of the pitcher, then that might signal that their interest in sports might actually be interest in two different things. What’s the next video they each watch? If the first one views a clip from the next inning of the same game, then it’s more likely that the game itself is what interests that person. If the second one views another clip of the same pitcher, or perhaps a beer commercial in which he appears, then perhaps their interest is in that person and not in the game. The next clip? The first person is still watching the same game, while the second is browsing Tumblrs full of men who look like that pitcher. So we have a baseball fan, and someone who is attracted to a particular kind of man who plays baseball. By taking all of this online activity in, Archer runs models that draw upon millions of possible vectors of compatibility. So many, in fact, that no human could unravel them all.”

  “So you’re telling us that Archer couldn’t explain why he matched us up, even if we asked?” Drew said.

  “Oh, he could explain. But sifting through the gigabytes of data and the algorithms he applied to make sense of them, well… we’d all be a lot older by the time you actually figured out what made him do it.”

  “Fascinating,” Fox said.

  “The key thing,” Drew offered, “seems to be convincing people to relax their preconceived notions about the possible universe of potential matches. But I agree with Fox—you can’t spring it on people like you did with us.”

  “That’s where you guys come in,” Alexis said, her smile wide. “We’re hoping you might be willing to help us get the word out about how opting out of Parameter Three might help people find the love of their lives.” She gestured to Fox. “The algorithms work. You’re proof of that. The science is solid. Now we need to convince people to let it work for them.” Then she turned to Drew. “And Parameter Three could be just the beginning. We could build an entire awareness campaign around other parameters, such as race and disability and mental health status, that could open new worlds of possibilities for people.”

  Fox had to hand it to her—she had read them perfectly and tailored her pitch to each. She hit the analytics with Fox and the social justice aspect with Drew. She knew how to work people.

  “What do you have in mind?” Fox asked.

  Alexis’s face lit up—she knew she had won them over. “What I have in mind is giving the two of you a chance to tell your story. We set up a couple of interviews with media outlets that are interested in telling your story, and you do some interviews. That’s it. We get good pickup on those, and then we put out a communication to the Q*pid members who we think might benefit from hearing your story. Then we ask them to consider letting Archer match them without regard to Parameter Three. If we get some more successes like yours, then we can expand the program into other parameters.” She paused, studying their faces. “What do you think?”

  Fox and Drew looked at each other for a moment, communicating with their eyes. Fox smiled—he knew immediately what Drew wanted to do.

  “I’m not one to talk publicly about my dating life,” Fox said. “But in this case I think I can make an exception. And I can tell by the way Drew is squirming that he’s excited to help his fellow man—and woman, and everyone else—shake off the shackles of their dating prejudices.”

  “You know me so well,” Dr
ew interjected, smiling.

  “So you can count us in.”

  “Excellent,” cried Alexis, somehow making it sound as though she was primarily excited for them, not for herself or her company. “I’ll start shopping the story around, and we’ll put some options out for you. Of course you’ll get refusal on any particular media outlet, in case it’s not a publication or program you want to be associated with. We don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. And we’ll arrange for a crew to come shoot some B-roll, so people can see how happy you are together. This is going to be such fun!”

  Fox reflected on the fact that they’d known each other just over a month. In every previous relationship he’d had, the one-month mark had simply meant things were only beginning. With Drew, though, it felt like they had known each other for so much longer. He knew the story they had to tell was a special one… and one the world needed to hear.

  He reached out and took Drew’s hand in his own. Soon, he hoped, there would be more like them.

  Chapter TWENTY-ONE

  IT WAS the loveliest spring Saturday anyone could remember. A warm breeze, the first of the season, lofted up off the bluff, sweeping gently across the wide lawn set with a hundred white chairs in neat rows. The first guests were starting to come down the aisle, choosing one groom’s side or the other.

  Fox stood at the window. “They’re starting to seat people,” he called behind him.

  Drew stepped away from the mirror where he had been tying and retying his bow tie. He came up behind Fox and put a hand on his shoulder as he peered over it. “This is really happening,” he murmured. “We’re really doing this.”

  “We are,” Fox replied. He turned and faced Drew; then with a quick tug he unfurled the lopsided tie. “And all of those people are here to watch us do it.” He quickly tied a perfect bow around Drew’s neck. A wedding present for me to unwrap later.

  Drew brought his fingers up to touch the bow tie. “Thanks. I couldn’t seem to get it. Fingers all twitchy.”

  “Nervous?”

  “A little, I guess,” Drew replied. “It’s hard to believe we’re back, and this time we’re getting married. From naked wrestling to a wedding in less than a year.”

  Fox smiled. “Just so you know, there’s going to be naked wrestling this time too.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Fox pulled him close for a kiss. “As freaked out as I was by that whole weekend, I think part of me knew even then that we were heading here. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. And that started from the moment we met.”

  “I think I knew the moment I saw your picture in my match queue. You appeared at the exact moment I needed you in my life.”

  “It’s just as sexy when you say it now as when you said it in the Q*pid commercial.”

  “They wanted me to say that I was shocked and furious, or something like that. But it wasn’t like that at all. I saw your face, and this feeling of calm came over me. Well, for a moment anyway. Then I saw Mrs. Schwartzmann studying my every blink, and I kind of panicked. But I was never shocked, nor furious. It was… flattering.”

  “Flattering?” This was a part of the story Fox had never heard before.

  “Yes, flattering. That the computer thought I was in any way in your league. That a guy who looked like you, and was as successful as you, might be interested in meeting me. It kind of yanked me out of my monastic academic life. And that’s precisely what I needed.”

  “You should tell that part of the story the next time we get interviewed about Archer.”

  “No,” Drew said decisively. “That part of the story is only for us.”

  Fox smiled. He loved having secrets with Drew. “But I’m running out of charming anecdotes. Next time someone asks I may have to tell them about naked wrestling and broken lamps.”

  Drew laughed. “Well, it would certainly make for an interesting interview.”

  “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and somehow you look even sexier in a tux. Now, shall we head down? We’re on in fifteen.”

  “It’s our wedding. It’s not going to start without us.” Drew kissed him on the nose and then walked over to the window to peer outside.

  “Checking on Mrs. Schwartzmann?” Fox asked. Drew had assigned an usher, one of his younger cousins, to watch over his elderly neighbor.

  “I don’t think she’s been out of the apartment since she moved in five years ago. I half suspected she would turn to dust when the sun’s rays hit her.”

  “She’s holding court down there in the front row. Everyone seems to be listening to her tell some wild tale.”

  “Probably about her torrid love affair with both Brezhnev and LBJ.” Drew chuckled. “Being completely unmoored from reality means you never run out of material.”

  “Think she’ll be okay in her new place?”

  “I think the good people at her new ‘gracious retirement and assisted living’ facility had better get their ears limbered up, because she’s going to give them a workout.” He turned and kissed Fox on the cheek. “Thanks again for helping get her set up there. It’ll be nice to know she’s just a couple of blocks away from our place.”

  “Honestly, I think she was holding out in that sad little apartment building because she was worried about leaving you on your own.”

  “And I thought she was staying there because she couldn’t afford anything decent. I had no idea she had so much money socked away.”

  “She seemed surprised about it too. When I brought my accountant over to her place and he went through everything, she seemed absolutely shocked. She said she was completely unaware of how much was in that trust, and she was never able to come up with a coherent story about where it came from.”

  “I think people of her generation like the simple security of having gold bullion stashed under the mattress,” Drew replied. “She was a little wary about spending any of it, but once I took her to dinner at the new place to see what it was like, she realized it was basically a captive audience of a hundred people who needed someone to bring new stories to the table.” He laughed. “I can’t imagine her definition of actual heaven is any different than that.”

  Fox ran his hand up and down Drew’s back as they looked out the window. “Seeing how much you cared about her just about finished me. By the time I met her, it wasn’t like I needed another reason to fling a lifetime of heterosexuality out the window, but seeing your huge, soft, generous heart in action pretty much sealed the deal.”

  Drew smiled. “Now, if you’re going to start sweet-talking me, we’re never going to make it down the aisle.”

  “I’ll save it for later, then,” Fox replied. He looked out the window once again. “I think everyone’s here. There’s Veera and Alexis, next to Mia. Where’s Chad, though?” He peered around, wondering where his best man might have gotten to.

  His question was answered by a knock on the door. “Foxy? Drew? You in there?” Chad called from the other side. “If it’s a case of cold feet, let me in so I can talk you through it. If you two are having your last premarital sexy time… well, let me in so I can watch.”

  “We’re almost ready,” Fox replied. He turned back to Drew. “Will you be my husband?”

  Drew kissed him softly. “Now and forever after.”

  Fox, without recourse to a spreadsheet, knew himself to be happy. He didn’t need numbers now that he had Drew.

  THE SKY was golden when the band began to play under the twinkling white lights strung over the trellised patio. Fox and Drew threaded their way through the tables, all filled with friends and family, all laughing and toasting the new couple.

  “Now there’s a table,” Drew said to Fox, nudging him on the shoulder and pointing to a group in the far corner. Chad and Mia held down one side, while Veera and Mrs. Schwartzmann occupied the other. They all seemed to be talking at once.

  “We’d better go see what they’re up to,” Fox replied.

  They walked over, sto
pping four times to accept congratulations and wishes for long happiness.

  As they approached the table, Drew could hear snippets of the conversation. They were clearly talking about him and Fox, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Here’s the happy couple,” Chad called. He got to his feet and tackled both men with a vigorous hug. “Love you guys!” He kissed each on the cheek.

  “You’re drunk,” Fox deadpanned.

  “On looooooove,” Chad replied with a maniacal laugh. “And that amazing bourbon they’re pouring.”

  “Hey, now that you’re here, you can settle something for us,” Mia said. She motioned them to take the two open seats at the table, which placed them in the middle.

  “And what would that be?” Drew asked as he sat. It was his wedding, yes, but he had learned over the previous year that doing what Mia asked was usually fun. And a lot easier than arguing with her.

  “We are having a little friendly disagreement,” she explained, “about who is responsible for the two of you becoming a couple.”

  “I know the answer to that,” Fox said immediately. “It was him.” He pointed across the table at Drew. “He sent me that message, and it changed my entire world.”

  Drew felt the heat in his chest that only Fox could inspire.

  “But you only replied to that message because I told you you should,” Chad volunteered.

  Fox shrugged. “You did push pretty hard,” he said. “It seemed like you really wanted me to be gay. Which I honestly found a little confusing.”

  “You can thank me for that,” Mia said. “He was all ‘First Thomas and Jake and now Fox. What if the gay comes for me next?’” She said this in the manner of an eight-year-old who has seen a scary movie by accident. “I told him he needed to get over himself. And then I showed him how two men in love could be beautiful.”

  “That explains the gay porn,” Fox replied with a laugh.

  “That actually explains a lot of things about Chad,” Drew added.

  “But Drew would not send that message until to send it I told him,” Mrs. Schwartzmann jumped into the fray. “He said, ‘Oh, Magda, the computer tells me I should be gay with this handsome man, but I am scared to be gay with him.’ And I tell him, ‘Drew, my darling boy, you tell that handsome man you will be gay with him because even an old woman knows you are not happy with your life as now you live.’ And that is why he typed out the message to this Fox with teeth like the sun.”