How to Build a Boyfriend from Scratch. Sarah Archer

Suspicion was the enemy of knowledge. Could she justify ruling out online dating without testing her hypotheses against it?

      After all, she reasoned, signing up didn’t mean she actually had to go on dates. She could make a profile just to see what was out there, from the safety of her home sweet browser. She never had to actually even talk to anybody, come to think of it. And most of them probably wouldn’t trace her IP address and come to her house to hack her apart with an axe, right? What the heck, she thought. She was feeling reckless.

      Kelly found a site that offered a free trial membership and had the least painfully posed stock people on its homepage. The first thing the profile asked for was a picture. She took a selfie, then uploaded it before she could scrutinize it and think better of it.

      The first few questions were pretty simple—basic physical attributes, religious and political affiliations, education and career highlights. Then it asked what she did for fun. Into Kelly’s mind immediately flashed an image of herself at home in a Slanket, eating a cake she’d made for one person in a mug in the microwave, watching one of the terrible, wonderful movies Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen made before they became eccentric old ladies of the Upper East Side. Even Kelly sensed that this was probably not the impression she wanted to give a man. She wracked her brain for anything that normal people might do for fun. Biking. Bicycling? She put down biking.

      And now a new image flashed into Kelly’s mind: a new version of her. This New Kelly was biking down an idyllic sun-washed street, the folds of a colorful dress swashing over her knees, her naturally wavy hair lifting in the wind and looking, for once, impeccable. She was pedaling expertly and easily. And she was smiling. Beside her on his own bicycle was a man. Kelly couldn’t get a clear visual of his face, but she knew that he was smiling too. They pedaled along in perfect synchronicity, passing simultaneously under the same shadows and the same golden patches of sun.

      Real Kelly found herself smiling too. While she had no actual desire to take up biking, she had to admit that it would be nice to have someone to pedal with. What if this was it? What if tonight was the night she found not just a wedding date, but something much more?

      Her heart was beating entirely too fast as she navigated to the next section. Then the site started asking questions that she found increasingly unreasonable. She scanned the list: Where do you see yourself in ten years? Clinging to a raft, stranded in the glacier melt that used to be San Jose. What do you want out of a relationship? To prove to my mom that I’m not single. And sure, it would be kind of nice to be curling up in bed with someone right now instead of sitting here alone, answering these questions. What makes you happy? Uh … does the fun night in the Slanket count?

      Kelly paused. She was not accustomed to failing a test, but she knew that she didn’t have the right answers for any of these questions. Say the perfect man really was waiting for her on the other side of this questionnaire. What did she expect to happen? That he would fall for her immediately and they’d bicycle away into the sunset? Kelly’s heart began to thump more slowly, more painfully, as she realized that more likely, she would send him pedaling as fast as possible in the opposite direction—like Dr. Masden, like Martin, like everyone else. Best-case scenario, it would happen immediately. Worst case, it would happen after she’d fallen for him just enough to really, really not want for that to happen.

      It was time to enter her qualifications for a man. Kelly rationalized that it was necessary to be specific. A whole host of unpleasant potential eventualities lurked on the other side of this page: awkward mismatches, wasted time and energy, heartbreak. The only way to reduce the odds of these potentialities was to provide the most robust possible data for the website’s algorithm. The site suggested writing something simple and friendly like “Looking for a guy who works hard, plays hard, and loves to laugh. Must love dogs!” Kelly almost laughed aloud. That could describe literally anyone.

      Height: 5'10"–5'11". Athletic build. Symmetrical smile. Master’s degree in a scientific field. Ambitious professionally but laid-back personally. Sense of humor. Love of animals. Love of movies. Love of Twinkies. Close to his family emotionally, but not physically. She didn’t need another mother breathing down her neck. Good at board games, but not better than her. Likes mountain vacations. Likes Harry Potter. Likes the Talking Heads. Knows how to cook but can afford to eat out. Prefers hand-drawn animation to CG. Wears V-necks. Wears boxer briefs. Doesn’t wear yellow. Drinks martinis and knows how to make them. Has been to at least three different countries. Has been to at least ten different states. Cares about his friends but not more than about her. Doesn’t eat prunes. Has a good heart.

      Something manic had taken over Kelly. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was a subconscious knowledge that the more difficult she made it to find someone, the less likely it was that she’d have to face whatever might come next. Because anything could come next.

      She finally finished her list, clicked Submit, and waited while the site spun its wheel.

       five

      

      While Kelly waited for her results, she realized that she didn’t even know how this was supposed to work. Would the dating site find her perfect match immediately? She had a fleeting image of a guy materializing at her door. She tried to calm herself: she would probably never go on a date with a stranger from the internet anyway. She probably wouldn’t have the guts to even contact him. But there went her heart again.

      “No match found,” the site said in unnecessarily large letters. “Try deselecting some of the attributes you’ve chosen in your ideal partner.”

      There it was in crystal-clear pixels: written proof that her perfect person did not exist. No woman could be expected to find this mythical man if even a computer couldn’t. Kelly sighed, a sound edged with both disappointment and relief. Here was another flood to douse her flicker of illogical hope that love might be out there for her. Even if the site had presented her ideal partner, would she be the ideal partner for him? If she’d never seen a true model of love, it stood to reason that she would never be able to replicate it herself. It was easiest to just close out of the site and forget the whole thing. Yet up rose the tiny flame again, still flickering. She still wanted love, maybe even needed it on some encoded biological level. The physical and lifestyle devastation of loneliness is astonishing … She grimaced as her own words to Anita came back to her. Even Dr. Masden had said that her research was relevant to her own life.

      So cocooned was she in her own thoughts that when her phone rang in the silent apartment, she jumped a full inch off her chair. Kelly squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled. Since her date with Martin, her phone held seven unanswered calls, ten texts, and four e-mails from her mom. If she didn’t satisfy Diane’s curiosity soon, either her mother or her phone might combust.

      “Kelly, why do you have a phone if you’re not going to answer it?” her mom asked as soon as she picked up. “Why aren’t you answering my calls?”

      “I just haven’t had a chance, I’ve been busy with work.”

      “You’re always busy with work. One day you’ll be at the office and wake up with ovaries the size of currants and realize you’re dying alone.”

      “That’s not how ovaries work, Mom.”

      “I didn’t call you at this hour for a physics lesson.”

      Kelly cupped her forehead in her hand. “You want to know what happened with Martin? It didn’t work out.”

      “What did you do?” Diane asked.

      Kelly bristled. “Why do you assume I did something? He was the one who got too personal.”

      “It was a date, not a bank transaction!”

      “It was a first date, and he crossed a line.” Kelly