“Are you sure a dating app is what you want to do next?” Mom asked, entering the room as though it were filled with land mines.
Binji followed her, still looking a little off balance. Her reaction earlier had been the weirdest thing. For the first time in her life, Cullie felt like maybe she didn’t know her grandmother as well as she thought she did.
“Neither of us is particularly interested in dating,” Mom said, handing Cullie her chai （and her agenda） and sitting down cross-legged on the rug.
Cullie shrugged, wishing everyone would stop saying that to her. A message from Rohan popped up on her screen, and a smile quirked her lips before she could suppress it.
Maybe dating wasn’t rocket science. “I didn’t think I was. But you were right. There has to be better than Steve out there.”
“Definitely,” both Mom and Binji said together, which made them smile too, making the tension in the room melt away.
Binji sat down on the bed next to Cullie. “You seem to be enjoying this more than you thought, right? Despite Noseless Veterinarian.”
Cullie shrugged again, barely hearing her grandmother, who cleared her throat in response to being ignored.
“Sorry.” Cullie shut down the text window and looked up. “Just helping a friend with where to find lingerie for his sisters.”
Binji and Mom gaped at her and sidled closer to get a peek at her screen.
“So, lessons learned. Let’s do this,” she said, refusing to meet their probing gazes. “You’re right, Binji. Noseless Vet might have scarred me for life, but it was just one date. You’re not hating it, either, right?”
Binji nodded, a faraway look softening her eyes. “I do enjoy the flowers and the chocolates. But what I like most is the sense of freedom to choose.”
“I thought you chose Ajoba,” Cullie said.
The bitterest laugh spurted out of Binji. She slapped a hand across her mouth, horrified that she’d laughed. “I did. But back then we used the word choice rather more broadly. Never mind all that. My point is that this online dating cannot all be an empty promise,” she said fiercely.
“Our first experiences prove otherwise,” Mom said, obviously still convinced that they might be barking up the wrong tree with the app.
Cullie and Binji cut her identical looks that said: Coward.
“Fine. Do we at least know what we’re trying to prove?” Mom said, making an “I’m going to be brave now” face.
“Aren’t we trying to find a way to make online dating more effective?” Binji said.
“And less painful?” Mom said, getting into it.
“More effective, less painful. Check and check.” Cullie scrunched up her nose: the memory of the foul smell was back.
Following close behind it was the way Rohan had smiled when she’d smelled him. She started tapping at her keyboard in earnest. “I did a little hacking into Twinge’s code to find out why we were matched with these particular men from the millions of people on there.” This was her zone, the space where she felt fully in possession of herself.
“That’s a good place to start. If, from the endless volume of options, these were the options we got matched with,” Mom said, “then something is wrong.”
“Since it’s all data driven, either they’re gathering the wrong data or we’re giving them the wrong data,” Cullie said, her brain and her fingers on the keyboard moving as one.
When they had signed on, Twinge asked a bunch of generic questions that seemingly spoke to nothing in particular and then parsed keywords from the answers as criteria for the matches.
Cullie had said “love animals and hate exercise” to narrow her options.
“To be fair the poop-smelling vet satisfied those qualities,” Mom said.
Binji had put in “love wine and world cinema” and done okay. So, then, were the results random?
“I’m not saying there was anything wrong with the man,” Binji said. “Especially when compared with what happened with you two. He obviously has good taste in flowers.” Her tone suggested there was a but coming.
“Or a personal assistant who does,” Cullie pointed out.
“True.” Binji scratched at a nonexistent spot on the sleeve of her caftan. That uncharacteristic restlessness was back. “But at dinner he ordered my meal for me, without even asking if he could. And he was excited that I’d never had a job.”
How had Cullie never considered that not having worked outside the home was something that bothered Binji? She’d never gone to college, and she’d often said that the women of her time, especially military officers’ wives, hardly ever had jobs. Had it always made her this . . . this unhappy?
Binji met the question in Cullie’s eyes with deliberate blankness. The most un-Binji look ever. She wasn’t going to go there. “He basically spent our entire time together talking about himself. But that’s probably because I am very good at acting interested.”
Cullie’s fingers continued to fly across her keyboard. “Between the three of us, a few horror dates and one good one would have been acceptable. But if our rate is one hundred percent duds, then that’s terrible.” She was back to square one.
Who was she kidding? She’d never left square one.
“Even if we could find a way to prevent the truly terrible ones, that would be something,” Mom said.
Binji looked at Mom as though she’d hit on something major. “That’s an important distinction. What defines truly terrible?”
“Smelling animal poop and conversations about gas seem pretty terrible,” Mom said.
“Again, this becomes about who we are. What makes us cringe varies from person to person. Even being asked to have sex in the restroom. I’m sure there are women who are seeking men out for that same reason. My point is, that’s not how you—you, Alisha Menezes Desai—define excitement. But someone else does.”
Cullie gave her grandmother a smile that she hoped said I worship your brilliance. “What we find attractive about people says more about us than about them! You called going out with someone a journey of self-discovery. About finding us, not them.”
Binji looked sad again. “That’s how it should be, don’t you think?”
Absolutely. Cullie hadn’t understood what Binji had meant before, but suddenly it made perfect sense. Her brain was racing at full speed now. “The questions apps like Twinge ask are supposed to tell people things about one another, so they can judge if they find those things attractive. But a thing is attractive to you because it appeals to something inside you that’s part of who you are.”
Cullie tapped with some flourish and pulled up some information. “Let’s take Noseless Vet. One of my answers on Twinge’s profile was, ‘I’d rather spend time with animals than humans sometimes.’ Which was a stupid thing to do, in hindsight, but it made him pick me. One of the things he said on his profile was, ‘Obsession with your work is the purest form of self-love,’ which probably made me pick him.”
“And under less gross circumstances, passion for work is something you two might have had in common,” Binji said.