Lunar Love (15)

I scroll through more matches that appear in my dashboard on the app, keeping a close eye out for one in particular. “Let’s see your so-called expertise in action. You’re not fooling anyone, Bennett O’Brien!”

I peruse the profile of the Rooster that crowed at me earlier and evaluate the contents of the profile of Parker T., the owner of a hip new Italian restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. According to what he’s written, he’s obsessed with anything that has to do with Italy (especially the food) and is a proud Angeleno.

Truthfully, if our animal sign personality traits didn’t clash so much, Parker T. might actually be interesting. After all, I’m a fan of carbonara and the Italian Riviera. Clearly their system is pulling words from profiles and matching people that way. I used the word pasta in my profile. But that’s profile matching, not necessarily personality matching. I could’ve written in my profile that I despise pasta, and according to the app’s logic, based on those words alone, we still might’ve matched.

“That’s what I thought!” I fling my wineglass up in the air, and the liquid sloshes around dangerously. “Not a match, not an expert.” This wine hit harder and faster than I anticipated. I walk over to the kitchen and eat another piece of Hawaiian pizza.

Over the speakers, the narrator’s voice grows ominous, drawing my attention back to the television. A hideous creature pops out of the center of a fish’s mouth, its worm-like body looking like it’s made itself at home. As disturbing as it is, I can’t look away. Instead, I turn the volume up.

“The tongue-eating louse, or Cymothoa exigua, is a parasite that enters through the fish’s gills. The parasite severs the fish’s tongue and attaches itself, becoming the fish’s tongue itself,” the narrator informs viewers. An ice blue fish with squiggly lines on its head swims through the water. Suddenly, a small creature pokes out of its mouth.

“Ew! Pinot, look at that!” I slide the slipping sheet mask up my forehead and cheeks.

Pinot looks over at me from the couch and lets out a husky meow. Curious what I’m doing, he saunters into the kitchen and jumps onto the counter.

“This process doesn’t harm or kill the fish, though it may be slightly unpleasant for a while,” the narrator continues. “The parasite finds a way to survive in its new host by replacing the fish’s tongue and feeding off blood and mucus in the fish’s mouth.”

I open the camera on my phone and flip it to face me. With the sheet mask on and my tongue sticking out, I look and feel like I’ve officially lost it.

“Pinot, show me your tongue.” I reach for Pinot, who’s decided that the cutting board is an ideal sitting spot, but he leaps away before I can grab him.

This process is disturbingly poetic. These parasites find a fish to live in, and the fish learns to adapt to its new tongue. Meanwhile, the parasite survives because of its new host. Will Lunar Love become the fish’s tongue that shrivels up and dies because of companies like ZodiaCupid? Realization dawns. Or am I the parasite?

“Bennett, I’m gonna find you, and then I’m gonna secretly attach myself to you and survive off your various fluids,” I say. “Wait, that doesn’t sound right.” I laugh out loud at my ridiculous thoughts.

The docuseries is cut off by commercials. I see a cursive Z fly across the screen and hear the pitch I’ve read a dozen times about ZodiaCupid.

“No! They’re running commercials now? Boo!” I yell at the screen. I’m tempted to throw my pizza at the TV, but ZodiaCupid isn’t worth giving up even one slice.

Well, I have to do what I can in order to survive. And that starts with infiltrating the system to get to the founder. As my mom would say, Always know what the other side is thinking. You don’t want to be caught off guard by new information that could knock you off your feet.

It’s sink or swim.

If I can match with Bennett, I can become one with the fish and suck its blood. Okay, that’s a bit much. I’ll find out everything I can about ZodiaCupid so Lunar Love isn’t caught off guard again. Bennett is simply the fish gills.

Hours later, just before midnight, I stir to the sound of Pinot using the couch as his scratching post. I groggily check my phone for emails, texts, and ZodiaCupid updates.

There are fifteen new matches. I flip through each one, hoping for a miracle. There are a few Rats in the list. I carefully read through each profile, finally landing on one that looks promising. Could this actually be Bennett? I sit up with newfound alertness.

I like to spend my days…bringing love into people’s lives.

Wait, what? That’s my job.

My favorite books to read are…business books and nonfiction.

An entrepreneur?

The thing I care most about is…making ZodiaCupid, a Chinese zodiac matchmaking app, number one in the industry (launches on Valentine’s Day).

Bingo.

The name at the top reads B.O.B. Bob? Or…Bennett O’Brien? Apparently I’m a drunk algorithm wizard. I was able to figure out how to beat their system with a bottle of wine in me.

If this really is Bennett, there’s only one way to find out. Without a clear plan or time to overthink what I want to say, I send: Hi B.O.B., Something in the lunarsphere matched us up. Let’s meet.

I obsessively refresh my phone every few minutes in hopes that B.O.B. has responded. Finally, a message materializes below the one I sent.