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I hesitated, then sheepishly admitted, “Probably not. I don’t think I would have considered you romantically if not for the app, saying we were a perfect match.” My thumb caressed his beard. “But I don’t think you’d have ever considered dating a man, either.”
“You just made my point, Ben.” Leo’s expression darkened, troubled by the thought. “Our entire relationship is based on garbage code. We're not really a match.”
“Leo, listen to me.” I locked my gaze on Leo’s. “It doesn’t matter how we met. What we have is real. The connection and love we’ve built together—it’s more than what some stupid line of code says or doesn’t say. It’s eight years of being here for each other, learning about each other, and now loving each other.”
But as I tried to reassure Leo, the seeds of doubt had already taken root, at least in Leo’s heart, and that more than anything else scared me.
Leo was the eternal optimist, the joyful dreamer, the one who always found a way—and Leo doubted our love.
Leo’s eyes searched mine for any sign of deceit. As he opened his mouth to speak, both our phones buzzed with notifications, breaking the tense silence. “Looks like it’s gone viral.” Leo’s voice was heavy as he gestured toward his phone, where an article about Mangle’s failure filled the screen. “Everyone’s going to know now.”
“Let them,” I said defiantly, almost angry at Leo for giving up so fast. “You and I know what we have, and that’s all that matters.” We exchanged a long look before diving into the articles, each one hammering home the severity of the scandal and the implications it had on every relationship built through the app.
We sat there scrolling, our food growing cold. Eventually Leo pushed his plate back and stood, turmoil in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can stay the night, Ben. I just need some time to think about everything that’s been happening.”
I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Leo, please. Stay. None of this matters, not really.” Wasn’t what we felt right now enough?
Leo hesitated, conflict clear on his face. “I don’t know, Ben. I think I need space to clear my head.”
A pang of disappointment rang through me, but it wasn’t fair to ask him to stay if he wasn’t ready. “Okay, I understand. But promise me you’ll call me if you need anything, or just want to talk.”
Leo nodded, his hand lingering on my shoulder for a moment before he turned to leave. “I will. And thank you, Ben. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
We kissed, soft and tender, and as the door closed behind him, I sank into my seat, spooning cold Chinese food into my mouth as I continued to scroll on my phone, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me once again.
The next day at lunch, I entered the lounge and warmed up my Tupperware container of leftover Chinese food. I sat at a table by myself and started to dig in when the surrounding chatter caught my attention.
My co-workers were discussing Mangle and its flawed algorithm.
“I can’t get these stupid lines of code to execute properly, let alone find my soulmate,” Bella scoffed, taking a bite of her salad. “I mean, how can a computer program, no matter how complex the algorithm, really understand the nuances of human connection and compatibility?”
Zeke, from HR, chimed in. “I mean, look at Ben and Leo. They’re like the poster couple for Mangle. But now we know it’s all based on a mistake.”
Their eyes turned to me, expecting me to provide some sort of defense or explanation. I hesitated, swallowing my mouthful of rice, and considered their words.
“Ben, what do you think?” Daniella asked, genuinely curious. “Did it really work for you two? How close was your compatibility? What did Mangle see in your profiles that made you a perfect match?”
Perfect match. I was beginning to hate that phrase. I looked around at their expectant faces, weighing my response carefully. Our relationship was private, something for Leo and me to cherish and nurture, but I recalled one night we spent curled up together, with Leo asking the same questions about our love. “Look, my relationship with Leo is private,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “But I’ll tell you this—algorithm or not, he’s the one for me.”
Bella raised an eyebrow, a wry smile playing on her lips. “But given that you both did the ad campaign for Mangle, can you really say your relationship is private anymore?”
I sighed, feeling the weight of their collective gaze. Yes, making our relationship so public opened us up to scrutiny. Still, I had no doubts about my feelings for Leo. “AI algorithm or not, Leo is the one for me.” I replied, meeting their gazes with quiet confidence.
With that, I closed the lid on my container, stood up from the table, and walked back to my desk. Our love was genuine, and nothing—not even a flawed algorithm—could shake that certainty.
Me: Hope you’re doing okay. Miss you.
But by the end of the workday, Leo still hadn’t responded.
I needed an outlet for my frustration, so after work I headed to the gym, always the perfect place to vent my exasperation. As the treadmill whirred beneath my feet, my thoughts raced, consumed by the uncertainty surrounding my relationship with Leo. It didn’t matter how many times I told myself our love was genuine; doubt lingered, if not with me, then with Leo, apparently, gnawing at us like a persistent shadow.
Was it the algorithm that brought us together? We had been friends for years without even an inkling of any kind of romantic affection—not a kiss, not a ‘friendly fondle,’ nothing close to sexual or romantic inklings, at least on my part.
Then a computer program tells us we’re perfect for each other, and we believed it.
Was that enough to build a life together on?
The questions swirled, unanswered, as sweat dripped down my brow and my heart pounded in my chest as mile after mile disappeared beneath my feet.
