It was a dank cold day in October, and the clock was striking “Fuck you”. John had just gone through another weekend alone. He couldn’t bear another day listening to the stories his co-workers told about their lives. His only solace tonight was to be “Monday Night Raw”. The few friends he had all had significant others, and the time they had to share just kept getting smaller and smaller, as their relationship commitments piled higher and higher. Plus, because he couldn’t join them when there were “couples nights” made it seem like his fault he couldn’t see his friends as much anymore. Being alone was starting to become lonely.

It’s not that he felt he needed someone to complete him, but the loneliness he had felt since Sarah left could no longer be fulfilled by sporting events or five now-carpal’d fingers.  He’d been on a couple of dates, but mostly served as a wing-man for a buddy’s visiting cousin – a job with no prospect of a satisfying outcome; he had so few friends, why risk wrecking that by trying to go too far with a person he knew he shouldn’t. He lacked the confidence to walk up to people and introduce himself. Being dumped will do that to a person. And he had a personal moral code which bound him to certain constraints. Notably, his “don’t shit where you eat” policy meant Cassandra in Accounting was off-limits, despite the whispers he’d heard about her. He’d be damned if he was going to lose a woman and a job in the same year.

While watching “Jake & Amir” on CollegeHumor, a dating ad for match.com popped into the browser. Dating ads are everywhere, but you seem to notice them most when you have the least amount of hope. They all seem to target the weakest of people by appealing to the strongest emotion. Sites like e-harmony, OkCupid, PlentyOfFish, and even FarmersOnly seemed somewhat false to him, offering the lure of companionship while wanting escalating amounts of your money. At least Ashley Madison & Tinder seemed honest about their designs. John ignored the ad, finished the video, and then put down his iPad and waited for Raw to start.

Right after Mick Foley shut up,  an ad came on the TV

https://youtu.be/__TEIPWAQ4Y

“Pretty girl,” he thought. “Slightly outta my league, but not unreachable.” He looked around the apartment and silently counted the pizza boxes in the recycling pile. “Maybe they have someone down at my level,” he pondered. Discouragement at his situation was about to triumph over his shame at resorting to ‘online dating’.

He opened the website and was greeted by the various payment options and plans. He chose a plan – value, obviously – and began entering his details. To his surprise, he entered all information honestly. He was about to click “submit” when he noticed a small codicil next to a mandatory box on the agreement page:

The customer agrees to abide by match.com’s advertising policy. At match.com’s request, the customer will submit to a video interview for their inclusion into a match.com advertisement for the service.

“No more dangerous than agreeing to an iTunes update,” John thought as he ticked the box and submitted his application. “Now the chicks’ll start rolling in,” he joked to himself. At least he’d have a reason to check his gmail more often.

Before logging off, he checked his account to make sure everything had gone through.

“Bah, we’ll see what happens,” he chuckled as the screen went dark and he wandered down his hallway towards his bedroom. As he drifted off to sleep later that night he thought to himself, “tomorrow’s going to be different.”

When John awoke, he finally felt purpose to his day. His decision to join that site had given him renewed interest in himself. He felt better than yesterday. He clicked onto his DailyBurn app and got his “8 Exercises That Make Everyday Tasks Way Easier”. “I’ll do that later,” John thought. “The walk to work will probably count for one of those.”

As he walked to work he noticed the breeze, the morning dew, and a few birds singing. He must have been someplace else, because he didn’t notice the stranger approach him from the direction of the park bench.

“Hi. Are you John?”

“Umm…yeah. And you are?” John blurted out, confused over what was going on. No one ever approached him on the way to work – not even the bums.

“I’m from match.com. I’m here to interview you for the site. We’d like your testimonial for an ad campaign.”

“That’s cool,” John said. “But I can’t do it right now – I’m headed to work. Shoot me an email and we can set something up!” said John as he headed off to his job.

“I’m afraid that won’t do, John,” the nameless man proclaimed. “We need your story for an ad campaign…” he repeated, attempting to match pace with John’s increasing gait.

“Call me!” John yelled as he buzzed into the building without looking back and headed straight for the elevator. As he heard the door close, he peered back to see if the man had followed him. Relieved, he re-pressed the button for the 17th floor.

“John,” said the voice coming from behind him, “I’m from match.com. I’m need to interview you for the site. We need your testimonial for an ad campaign.”

A shiver ran up his spine. “Dude! How the hell…” That was all John could get out, his mind racing to figure out what the hell was going on!

“John,” the man continued, “you’re our client. You’ve purchased our service. You agreed to abide by our terms and conditions.”

John panicked. “You’re just a website. You’re supposed to recommend people to me, not follow me around!”

The door opened onto a floor, and John bolted the elevator without looking back. Realizing it wasn’t his floor, he made a swift angle towards the bathroom and went inside to gather himself. His heart racing, he analyzed his ashen face in the mirror. “Calm down, man,” he muttered. “Maybe you’re stuck in a dream…”

“GET OUT!” a voice screamed, punctuating the point that in his haste he had gone into the women’s bathroom.

“Oh…uhh…sorry,” he stammered as he fled. The quizzical looks on the Schwab employees blurred together as he reached for the staircase door. Hopefully no one recognized him, and he could get to his office and continue on his day without any more weirdness.

“Only five minutes late,” John noticed. “I’ll just settle into my routine, and things will straighten out from there.” The first step was to log into his Mac and check his mail. As his breathing slowed, his screen grew brighter.

“HOW CAN THIS BE?!” he screamed internally. “I only gave them my gmail address! IT is going to —”

“Hello, John.”

John straightened up, afraid to turn around and face the person he knew stood in the doorway.

“John, I need to interview you for match.com. It’s important that we get your testimonial for the ad campaign.”

John leaped from his chair and dragged the stranger inside. Throwing him into the centre of the room, he launched into a fury of questions. “Who are you?!” “How did you follow me?!” “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

“John, I’m from…”

“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!”

“By purchasing our service, you gave us permission.”

“TO FIND ME A WOMAN!”

“John, you don’t understand. The man shook his head at John’s intransigence. “Match.com isn’t just a dating service, it’s part of a lifestyle service. We are trying to find YOU a companion. Aren’t you tired of being lonely?” he asked John in a tone that appeared to request surrender of both his opposition and free will. “Frankly, given your loneliness, I’m disappointed by your unwillingness to participate. This is why we need you for the ad campaign.”

John wondered what to say. “Fuck this guy for saying it,” he thought, “but fuck him, too, for being right.”

“Besides,” the stranger intoned. “paying us finally submitted you to our will.”

“Pardon?!”

“Don’t you see? You been part of the IAC family for months now. The CollegeHumor skits you watched? That fitness app you use? The Hillary Clinton brochures? The Nikki Minaj videos on Vimeo you touch yourself to? All under the IAC/InterActiveCorp umbrella. We are your life. Signing up for match.com was the conclusion to the Faustian bargain you had already entered into months earlier.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” John said aloud, with sobbing punctuating every word. “I just wanted to stop being alone.” His mind raced, trying to find a way out of the predicament. “Wait! Since I’m still in the 30 free days window, I have the ability to cancel, right?” His wavering voice betrayed his desperation.

The last refuge of the damned surely must be the standard-form language in an online contract.

“I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that, John. Do you remember Jackie, from the commercial you watched?”

Through tears, John remembered her face. “Yes. What about her? Will I get to meet her?” he asked hopefully.

“HO-HO-HO-HO-HOOOOOO!!!” the man chortled. “Oh no, you will never meet her. But, if you don’t agree to come with me now, she will never be able to leave.”

“W-w-what?”

“It’s quite simple, John. You are our next client. Jackie is our current client. She signed up; she did her testimonial; and, now, Jackie can be free…so long as you agree. To Do. The. Ad.”

He opened his phone. Facetimed on the screen was a woman – it was Jackie. She seemed desperate to speak with him, or anyone. “Please Mister,” she begged through the screen, “I just want to go home.”

“THIS CAN’T BE REAL?!”

“Oh, it’s real, John. Everybody joins, but nobody ever leaves. It’s the reason we’re number one in second dates.”

“WHY DO YOU KEEP MAKING THE SALES PITCH?!”

“Please, for the love of God, help me.” Her sobs drifted off, consigned to their eternal fate.

“John, Jackie’s waiting for your answer. Will you do the ad?”

The panic he once felt washed away. He was tired now – tired of fighting; tired of battling. Resignation entered his voice as he surrendered. “Yes,” he said softly.

“Yes…what, John? I need you to say it.”

“Yes, I’ll do the ad.”

“GOD BLESS YOU, JOHN! I PROMISE, I’LL TRY TO FI–” The man killed the feed before Jackie could finish her vow. “She’s free now, John, so you know what you must do.”

“Alright. When do you want to do this?”

“Right now, John. We should go.”

“But I’m at work,” John said, trying to delay the inevitable. “I can’t leave until 6.”

“I’m afraid I must insist. The internet doesn’t sleep, and neither do I. Or you now, for that matter.”

“But I don’t think I can…”

John, come with me now!

“Where are we going?” John sheepishly asked, as if he had an option or choice.

“To do your interview, of course,” the man intoned. “I hope you like dogs.” He put a hand on John’s shoulder and guided him outside. They walked towards a small park.

John tried to respond. “Well, I –“

“Frankly, it doesn’t matter. Remember John, the people have to accept that you are an actual client. You need to make them want to join. Your confidence needs to be the attraction. Welcome to match.com – if they don’t sign up, you can never leave.”

“I’ll try.” John thought back on Jackie’s tape – the clenched teeth; the forced smile – and wondered how she pulled it off. How did she get the fear to leave her eyes? “I’m not an actor.”

“Jesus,” the stranger said, “just be a fucking man.”

A dog wandered up to their bench, sitting down beside him. Where did that camera come from? The last words he remembered hearing were, “Now, John, make me believe it.”