Page 8 of Swiped
He got some laughs at this line, but Nat just shook her head.
Ghosting . She couldn’t believe that was his best shot.
“Look,” she replied, “we didn’t invent ghosting or tell people to start doing it.
” Adrenaline swirled in her body. Maybe she could be a shark, too.
“And if it keeps happening to you, well, maybe that’s not about the app, you know?
” She went for the kill with a little stage-y smile and shrug.
The audience hooted as Rami fixed his stare on his hands.
“Sorry, just a joke,” Nat continued, tossing her hair and gesturing for the crowd.
She wasn’t sorry. “But BeTwo is really only serving a very simple need. It’s labeled as a dating app, which is true, but it’s not a full-service love experience.
We’re not here to be relationship counselors — it’s just about making introductions to get people on a date and letting them take it from there. ”
Nat smiled, proud of her answer as Tracy pressed a pink-manicured finger to her earpiece and frowned. “Let’s move on,” she said. “How about one more question, and please, not about BeTwo?”
Most of the hands went down as Tracy craned her neck to scan the audience. “I think I see someone over by the doors? Maybe?”
“Actually, I have a question,” said Rami. Of course he did.
He leaned forward, poised with his arms folded on the table like he was chairman of the Model UN. He probably even had a special gavel . He looked into her eyes and grinned. A chill coursed through her spine.
“Just curious,” he said. “Have you ever used your own app?”
A whoosh of panic roared into Nat’s ears as all eyes fixed on her and his question hung in the air.
The same question he had already forced her to answer backstage.
Rami raised his thick eyebrows in a collegial way, eyes shining with a kind of sinister glee.
She snapped, “As I’ve said in multiple interviews, I spent five years of my life beta-testing BeTwo every single day—”
“No, I mean, have you ever really used it to try and find someone to love?” He kept his eyes locked on hers with a wolfish smile.
He gave little shrugs as if the words were just occurring to him, as if he were genuinely curious to find out her answer.
“Thrown yourself into your pool of users? Put yourself at the mercy of a swipe?”
The rows and rows of people in seats swirled in her vision as Nat fumbled for something to say.
She’d never talked this publicly about her dating life before — on purpose.
“I want to find a partner someday, but for now I’m happy being single.
” The words felt small in the huge room as soon as she finished the sentence.
The faces in the front rows stared blankly at her.
“And when the time comes,” she blurted, ad-libbing.
“When the time comes, I’m sure I will create a profile, OK? ”
Tracy seized the moment. “Now, that’s interesting,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Nat, you play Cupid for millions of strangers, yet you’re happily unattached?”
Nat tried to smile. “Yes, but, I mean, it’s just for now . . . While I focus on my business!”
Christine tapped her mic. “Girl, you could catch a man in a hot minute,” she said, nodding sagely.
“Th . . . thanks,” Nat stammered. “You too.”
Christine cringed. “Gross, no thanks!”
Before Nat could say anything, Rami chimed in again. “So, since you’ve never actually engaged with your own app as a user, let me tell you what your data doesn’t show.”
Anger flared hot in Nat’s stomach. Keep my data out of your absurdly perfect mouth! She forced out a more stage-friendly response. “I’m sure nothing will surprise me.”
Rami gave her a sympathetic nod, almost apologetic. “Well, your app is single-handedly destroying the fabric of human decency. Did you know that?”
“That must have slipped my mind.”
Nat gritted her teeth as Rami rose, seizing his moment like the smug debate star she’d always dreaded back in her Academic Decathlon days.
“I see. You talk about your nuanced algorithm, but the only thing your app creates are superficial snap judgments.” He walked to the front of the stage, gesturing to the audience.
“Swipe away anyone who doesn’t fit your exact standards at that exact millisecond, because who cares?
Have sex with someone and never call them again, because who cares?
There’s always a sea of new faces to fulfill all your custom desires.
” Nat watched in horror as several people nodded along in the crowd as he continued.
“It’s like buying a car. Leather seats, but not wood paneling.
Blonde, fit, lucrative job, but not too short. Dear Lord, not too short!”
“You’re describing the paradox of choice — the more options you have, the less satisfying your choice will be,” Tracy chimed in, putting on a pair of black-rimmed glasses that she seemed to have materialized for exactly this serious turn. “That’s a fair point. What do you say to that, Nat?”
Nat shook her head with a deep frown. “ No ! No, he’s missing the point entirely.”
“Really?” said Rami, striding over toward her. Nat stood and walked up to cut him off, meeting him halfway. They stood center stage and close enough to touch. “Or maybe I see the point better than you do because I’ve actually used your app?”
He fixed her with a look that she could imagine being very happy to see in different circumstances — wise eyes, soft smile, a shadow of stubble giving him a delicious edge. But then he had more to say.
“BeTwo isn’t a dating app. It’s a shopping app. And I think it’s disgusting.”
At that pithy indictment, the audience finally came back to life with a mix of applause, some cheers, and some booing. Nat felt her legs wobble. It was impossible for her to tell how many of the reactions were in her favor, but she knew she hadn’t completely lost them . . . yet.
“Nat, any response to that?” asked Tracy.
“Over two million users would say he’s wrong,” Nat said, refocusing on Tracy’s unflappable cool.
“Would they?” Rami interjected. She was determined not to look his way, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see him returning to his seat.
“Or does this way of dating just seem normal because everyone is doing it? Except it doesn’t even work!
It’s all hookups and dick pics and a thousand sad nights at a bar that might as well never have happened, except that each one crushes your soul just a little bit more. ”
“Wow, dramatic much?” Nat cracked over a few cheers for Rami’s rant.
“Oh really?” Rami countered. “Who is finding a quality connection on BeTwo? Anyone?”
Nat laughed. “Tons of people! Every day!” Now it was her turn to work the audience. She gestured to them like a magnanimous queen. “Lots of you, right?”
Except she didn’t get the rousing applause she’d expected — more like a few scattered, uncertain claps. She was losing them. She was losing this. And that couldn’t happen.
Especially not with him.
“OK, fine!” she cried, collapsing back into her seat. “I’ll make a profile and find a great guy to date on BeTwo. Done! It’s not that hard!”
Rami flinched with shock as Tracy spoke up. “Now that is an interesting story. The guru tests her own medicine . . .”
“Or drinks her own Kool-Aid,” he grumbled.
Ever the professional, Tracy turned to the audience. “What do you all think? Post on social with the hashtag ‘BeTwoChallenge’ and help me pitch this to my editor!”
The applause Nat had been looking for filled the auditorium, and she felt in her bones that something big had just happened. A surge of victory rushed through her as a few voices called out in the din.
“ Do it !”
“This is getting off topic!”
“Snakes!”
She covered her mic and leaned back to call out to Rami. “Checkmate, asshole!”
He covered his mic and called right back, eyes gleaming as he smirked and hit her with his perfect dimples. “Rest in peace, BeTwo!”
“Well, the people have spoken,” said Tracy with a dazzling smile for the cameras. “Keep an eye out for this BuzzFill exclusive series as we follow Nat Lane as she uses her own app to find love—”
“Wait!” cried Nat. “To be a true test, we need a complementary vector.” She smiled at her rival as triumph pounded in her ears. “Isn’t that right, Rami?”
“What? No!” His face fell as he bumped his lips on the mic. “I never said that.”
Nat now rose and strode across the stage toward Rami.
“It’ll be a race.” She stopped in front of him, close enough to smell his woodsy-sweet cologne and see the sweat rising on his smooth olive skin.
“Can Rami, here, find a date before I do, but without using any apps?” She popped a hand on her hip and smiled at him like they were old friends. “You know, the old-fashioned way!”
“No way.”
The audience booed as Nat laughed. “Aww, get back on the horse! When was your last date?”
Rami balked. “‘Back on the horse?’ Nice one, boomer. And it was only eleven months ago.”
The audience laughed as Rami winced. Nat almost felt sorry for him as she watched him register that pretty much everyone else in the room actually did feel sorry for him.
“Those terms sound fair to me. Rami, what do you say?” asked Tracy. “Nat has to find a date online and you have to find a date IRL?”
Rami ran his hand through his curls and looked at Nat from under his thick lashes.
She could practically see the resolve swelling up inside him, and it suited him.
He stood and fixed her with a confident gaze.
Nat’s stomach flipped, despite the adrenaline surging around her body.
“You know what? Yes.” He smiled, and at the words, his chocolatey eyes softened, just like when they had been strangers joking on an ugly floral sofa.
She couldn’t believe that it had only been an hour ago.
“Nat Lane and the only modern way to enter a depressive state,” he quipped on her tagline as he held out his hand. “You’re on.”
The crowd roared their approval as she took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Through the noise, her mind pinged at how soft and strong his hands felt in hers, but she just tossed her hair and laughed. “Excellent.”