"I'm NOT trying another stupid dating app," said Tanya with a scowl on her face.

She glanced at Annette and Simon sitting on the sofa across from her, hip to hip, holding hands. They looked so damn cute and happy wearing matching sweatsuits. They glistened with light perspiration after a freakishly early Saturday morning power walk.

Ok fine, half past noon wasn't that early.

Avoiding eye contact, she stared at the blank wall beside her, pulled her frayed bathrobe around her Wonder Woman pajamas and blew a strand of hair out of her face. The sting of being stood up on multiple Tinder dates still hurt.

"But this one is 100% guaranteed," pleaded Annette. "Simon and I had given up on online dating too, but when we met on Surepic, it was love at first sight." Simon nodded silently wearing the same goofy grin on his face as Annette.

Tanya wanted to barf.

She did in fact vomit nine hours later in the bathroom of the Capitol Club after four appletinis. I'm getting too old for this shit, she thought to herself. The men here were too young for her. The darkened mirror in the ladies room gave everyone the impression of a fake winter tan. She wasn't drunk enough however to be fooled into forgetting her naturally pale and pasty complexion. Leaning forward, she peered closely at the dark circles under her eyes. Sexy, she thought and turned to look at herself from behind. Ugh. Backfat oozed around the straps of her green dress. Snatching her phone out of her purse, she ordered an Uber and left.

Sunday morning, she resolved not to leave the living room sofa. Feeling low, she ignored Annette's text inviting her to dinner with Simon. Facebook gave her a few cute cat videos to distract her, some political rants she didn't have the stomach for, and too many pictures of everyone else's happy ducky lives.

And then, there it was, because Facebook knows what you want more than you do: Surepic. 100% match success, 100% guaranteed.

I'll prove them wrong, she told herself, adjusting her reading glasses. She gave a broken fingernail a scowl before using it to click the link. It took her to a banal-looking dating site complete with the requisite pictures of romantic couples walking on the beach. Gag me with a spoon. She downloaded the app, answered the questions with brutal honesty, posted a hungover selfie, and entered her Paypal password.

Good luck Surepic, she sneered, I look forward to the refund.

Her phone pinged forty-five seconds later.

'You have a coffee date with Steve at 12:00pm at the Starbucks on Rainier Avenue. Wear your Red Sox shirt.'

She stared blankly at the screen. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Without time to shower, she walked into Starbucks, ordered a soy latte, and sat down across from a slob wearing a Red Sox shirt.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Unsurprisingly, Steve was nothing to write home about.

"Does Surepic really think that because we both like the Red Sox and drink soy lattes that we are soul mates?" asked Steve.

Tanya shuddered at the sight of his yellow teeth. "This is bullshit," she agreed.

"Did you even take a shower?" he asked.

"Screw you."

"This date's over."

"Agreed."

Fuming, Tanya arrived home and resumed her post on the couch.

'Surepic sucks,' she texted Annette. The phone rang five seconds later, but she sent Annette's call directly to voicemail.

Determined to get her money back, she opened the Surepic app, but the password didn't work. The password recovery sent her no email. She tried again. Still no response. Heat rising in her face, she scrolled through all of the Surepic web pages looking for an 800 number to call, and then she tried googling for a Surepic contact. Nothing.

This is bullshit. She threw her phone across the room and closed her eyes. A knock broke her brooding silence.

Tanya hoisted herself up and trudged to the front door. A thin well-dressed older woman with coiffed hair stood crying in the doorway.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" she asked, alarmed.

"Your uncle Bob died," said her mother sobbing as Tanya ushered her into the living room and handed her a tissue.

"But you hated uncle Bob," said Tanya confused. "You haven't spoken in over a decade."

"I do hate him. He was awful," said her mother sniffing.

Tanya stared at her mother bewildered.

"But his death made me think about how cruel I've been to you–always harping on your weight. Never telling you how smart you are. I wanted you to be happy and I thought if I nagged enough you would lose the weight. I thought if I told you how smart you are, your head would be too big."

She started wailing in earnest. "I'm just like my brother, a BIG DICKHEAD. I'm surprised you even talk to me."

"Oh, mom," said Tanya, giving her a hug and silently rolling her eyes. Her mother never ceased to annoy her, but she couldn't help feeling some sympathy towards her for her apologetic confession.

They drank tea for another twenty minutes in companionable silence, having nothing left to talk about. Tanya exhaled in relief when her mother got up to leave.

"Oh, and Tanya," said her mother at the door. "Bob left you a considerable amount of money in his will. Stingy bastard, never spent a penny of his money. But these things always take a few months though to go through probate, yada, yada."

"Uh, ok," answered Tanya. She closed the door and shook her head. What a day.

Six months later Tanya greeted Annette with a big hug, grinning uncontrollably.

"I can't believe Steve proposed at the Mariners-Red Sox's game. That's just so perfect. It all happened so fast!" said Annette.

Tanya smiled. It had all happened quickly.

Life shifted into hyperdrive after her uncle died. She left for an unanticipated work trip to Italy, experienced a steamy hook-up with a sexy Italian man who appreciated her curves, ran into her ex from high school–a good-looking jock who had crushed her and found relief when she learned it wasn't her he didn't like. He was gay! They rekindled their friendship, she joined his gym, and found a new app on Facebook to improve her sleep. She began feeling more exhilarated each morning than she ever had.

Tanya had forgotten about the Surepic app on her phone until it pinged her again four months later. Game for adventure, she opened it and agreed to another match. Bizarrely, it matched her with Steve again, and wanting to show off her new best self, she agreed to meet him for coffee again. To her surprise, his teeth weren't yellow anymore, and he, too, seemed much more alive. It was love at first–well second–sight.

At the elegant offices of Surepic Headquarters on 5th Avenue, Bryant leaned back and put his feet on the mahogany table as the last board member filed out of the room.

"Strong work, on the Seattle case, Rodgers," said Bryant. A fat cigar hung out of his mouth.

"Thank you sir," said Rodgers showing no sign of emotion on his sallow face.

"Your creativity and discretion in guaranteeing our bottom line is remarkable."

"Thank you, sir," said Rodgers.

"We are promoting you to Vice President, Corporate Strategy and Core Engineering Services. Welcome to the executive team."

"Thank you, sir," replied Rodgers.

"Rodgers," said Bryant standing up and striding over to the large window overlooking Central Park. "I made millions when I discovered the formula to help people find a mate. It's so alarmingly straightforward. Most people are simply in love with themselves."

He turned back to where Rodger sat primly in his seat, "But you, you Rodgers discovered the secret to the multibillion-dollar algorithm for the small percentage of people who don't love themselves. You have answered the question: How can you make someone learn to love themself?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's costly," said Bryant.

"Yes, sir," said Rodger, avoiding eye contact.

"And you are never going to tell me how it's done, are you?"

Rodgers twisted his hands together and fidgeted in his seat. "It's fairly complicated. In fact, there is no single algorithm that applies to everyone. My team employs a multifaceted approach utilizing numerous unconventional tactics, which eventually snowball perpetuating..."

"You didn't answer the question."

"No sir, I'm never going to tell you."