Traditions were meant to be broken? Who does this guy think he is?
“It’s the Great Race to Lunar New Year. That’s only four months away,” I calculate. “It’s fine. There’s still time for them to fail before then.”
Pinot stares blankly at me.
“I know the Great Race is a sore subject for you cats. Oh forget it. I thought you’d at least care because a Rat is involved!”
February is our biggest month of the year with Lunar New Year and Valentine’s Day. If ZodiaCupid successfully launches then, we may not see the boost in client numbers we’re used to. We’ll need to rethink our strategy and make the most of the next few months. Lunar Love counts on that annual increase.
I grab my laptop and double-check Lunar Love’s spreadsheets. Luckily, we have enough savings to keep us afloat for about two or three more months, but we don’t have time to waste.
ZodiaCupid is running a closed beta where a few thousand lucky users can test the product early and experience most of the features ZodiaCupid will offer, with lots more additions to come. Meanwhile, ZodiaCupid is taking beta tester feedback into consideration and working on improving their product.
“We’re excited about the overwhelmingly positive feedback we’ve received so far. We don’t take the work we do lightly or for granted. It’s been a wild ride, and we’re just getting started,” O’Brien adds.
It wasn’t until the past two weeks that they announced their presence to the world with a creative social media campaign. They’ve already received over 25,000 email signups from people hoping to be accepted into beta during this campaign. If you haven’t yet found love, sign up on their website to be a beta tester and give this clever and unique dating app a try—this could be your Year of the Match Made in Zodiac Heaven!
I unintentionally clench my jaw as I read phrases like “The start-up world’s newest darling” and “Fresh concept for those looking for tradition in a modern world.” If people cared about tradition and the Chinese zodiac, they would’ve found us. Lunar Love has been here for half a century, but because we’re not some flashy new app, we get overlooked. Apps are soulless and impersonal. Love is between two people, not two avatars. Lunar Love is a business that’s built from the heart.
Another headline, “Chinese Zodiac Expert Helps Masses Find Compatible Matches,” stops me in my tracks.
“You think you’re an expert, Bennett? You’re not an expert! The only thing you’re an expert in is stealing other people’s business concepts and buns.” My shouts annoy Pinot, and he jumps off my lap, settling into the far corner of the couch.
I wander into the bathroom and rip open a sheet mask. I carefully drape the mask over my forehead, nose, and cheeks. How are they measuring success? The number of oinks and barks people receive? Messages? How are they even tracking that without knowing who’s going on dates? My skepticism remains. There’s no way this app works.
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.