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Mark, a mid-level analyst at a respectable investment firm, considered himself a data-driven romantic. He approached dating with the same rigor he applied to dissecting quarterly earnings reports. Forget serendipity and butterflies; Mark preferred spreadsheets, formulas, and cold, hard facts.

The Match.com Masterpiece

His magnum opus was a meticulously crafted Excel document he affectionately (and secretly) referred to as “Project Aphrodite.” It contained tabs for every single woman he’d contacted on Match.com. Each name was a portal to a labyrinth of personal information. There were columns for age, height, weight (estimated, of course), education, profession, stated relationship goals, and even subjective assessments of their profile pictures (“Smiling ratio,” “Teeth whiteness,” “Hair shine”).

But the rabbit hole went deeper. Mark tracked response times to his messages, the number of emojis used in their replies, and meticulously cataloged topics discussed during online chats. He assigned numerical values to conversational points: “Sense of humor score,” “Intelligence index,” “Shared interest compatibility rating.” A particularly disturbing column, labeled “Long-term potential,” was calculated using a weighted algorithm based on factors like proximity, stated desire for children, and perceived financial stability (gleaned from their profession and subtle cues in their profiles).

Creepiness Creeping In

The sheer volume of data was unsettling, but the details were downright creepy. He had a section dedicated to analyzing their favorite books and movies, cross-referencing them with his own preferences to determine “Intellectual Alignment.” He even logged details like the day of the week they were most likely to respond to messages and the optimal time to send a witty opening line. His friends thought he was joking when he told them about his “relationship ROI”.

One fateful day, during a particularly awkward first date, Mark accidentally let slip a comment about the woman’s stated preference for foreign films, phrased in a way that suggested he had access to more information than she’d willingly shared. Her face paled. “How did you know I like Truffaut?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. Mark stammered, desperately trying to backtrack, realizing the horrifying implications of his data-driven dating strategy. The date ended abruptly. Mark went home and stared at his spreadsheet, the glowing screen reflecting the cold, calculating image of a man who had turned romance into a soulless, algorithm-driven nightmare.

He knew, with a sinking feeling, that “Project Aphrodite” needed to be deleted. Perhaps, he thought, real connection couldn’t be quantified. Maybe love wasn’t a spreadsheet equation, but something far messier, more unpredictable, and infinitely more human.

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