Lunar Love (47)

“They all get added up into a bouquet. Besides the public acknowledgment of being active on the app, we’re playing around with the idea of sending users actual deliveries of flowers when they reach a certain number of bouquets.”

A waiter brings our food to the table. Bennett, surprise surprise, ordered the tried-and-true egg sandwich and green juice. I pour maple syrup over the top of my Belgian buttermilk waffles after taking a sip of my Earl Grey iced tea.

“The number next to the peony shows how active the users are on the app, so you know if someone’s serious about being on it. Basically, the higher the number, the more people they’re probably talking to,” Bennett elaborates, moving his egg sandwich around spiritedly. He bites into it, consuming the sandwich slowly and methodically.

Somehow, he looks cute chewing. No one looks cute chewing.

“Does it live up to the hype?” I ask as I cut my waffle into smaller pieces.

“Four point three stars did not do this sandwich justice!” he says excitedly. “This is definitely four point five stars.” He swallows and covers his mouth with his napkin as he laughs. It’s so endearing and innocent that my heart could burst. “Here, try some.”

Bennett twists the egg sandwich around so I’m eating from the side he hasn’t put his mouth on. I hesitate, but he looks excited for me to share his enjoyment. He holds the sandwich closer to me. We make awkward eye contact as I bite down, and my body shakes with nervous laughter at how intimate this is.

“That makes two hundred and ninety-one satisfied customers,” I say teasingly, my face flushed.

I scroll past Bennett’s peony petal count on his profile. It’s much higher than I expected. I would only have one petal.

I can feel Bennett watching me, waiting impatiently for my reaction.

“You gamified the app,” I say slowly, processing what I’m seeing. It’s a tacky addition, ultimately making the zodiac look like a game. People are now players in a different sense of the word.

“I was inspired by your favorite flower,” he says. “I thought it was beautiful and kind of perfect that they symbolize prosperity, good luck, and best of all, love and the rebirth of relationships. So much meaning!” Bennett wipes crumbs from his mouth.

I want him to know how insensitive his gamification move feels, but he’s clearly proud of this. I choose my words carefully. “Wow” is all that comes out. I can do better than that.

“I see what you were trying to do. What if you, I don’t know, focused on deepening the elements of the zodiac itself instead?” I propose.

Bennett’s smile falls. “Oh, do you not like it?”

I pause midbite, a piece of waffle hovering awkwardly between my plate and mouth. “How honest do you want me to be?” I ask.

Bennett shifts in his seat. “Well, I wanted your opinion, so…I guess tell me what you really think.”

This is where I can edge ZodiaCupid out and encourage him to continue down the path of something that would be bad for his company. I can see it now. Beta testers feel played and leave his app for us because we actually value love and match people based on compatibility. To us, love isn’t a competition.

I watch Bennett carefully. I could lie and say this is a good move, that people will love it. But when I look into his eyes, I can only tell the truth.

“I’m generally not a fan of adding gaming elements into nongaming spaces, especially when it comes to love,” I admit. “I think it has the potential to make people feel bad if they don’t have a high peony count. Or they might feel pressure to reach out to people just to look popular or desired, as though it’s better to have a higher score so the peony fully blossoms.”

Bennett listens carefully to my words.

“Does success look like high petal counts or quality matches that can’t be assigned numbers?” I continue. “Gaming elements can also be really addicting, which, I get it, you want to encourage people to be on the app, but it feels a bit forced.”

Bennett drops his head in disappointment. Maybe I’ve said too much.

“I’m sorry,” I continue. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“That’s tough to hear,” he says, rubbing his hand over his face. “But maybe you should try it before you fully judge it. This feature will help me find the love of your life, after all.”

My entire body shudders at the thought. “How exactly?” I ask, unconvinced.

Bennett leans forward, and I feel his arm heat against my own. “From what I know about you so far, I suspect you’d want to be with someone who doesn’t have a lot of peony petals. This feature lets me know who’s active but not too active. I can see which animals you interact with most and the reviews from the dates. Because I won’t have access to your profile from your phone, I’ll have to look on the back end who you match with. I’ll have to coordinate your date details with whoever I choose for you while pretending to be you.”

“Is this your ploy to mess with the algorithm? You can only match me with someone I actually matched with.”

Bennett bends closer. “I want you to fall in love. Someone matching on your profile is the best way for me to find love for you. Which reminds me. Can you update your profile as though you were using the app for real?”

“This is ridiculous,” I say, launching ZodiaCupid on my phone and reviewing my profile. More fun facts pop up on the screen. “Did you know Rembrandt was a Horse?”