Ladies' Choice

I matched with a guy, not from town.

He lived two towns over and had an overbite. But his dimples were deep, and his blonde hair looked like it had natural highlights, not the bottle bleach kind purchased at the local beauty supply store.

I sent the first message because I had to - Ladies’ Choice. But he was the one who asked me out on a date the following evening. He listed some places we could go in his town, but I thought meeting during the day in mine would be better. I didn't want unfamiliarity or to go out at night with a stranger.

We decided on a time and place, and then he signed off for the night.

I continued to scroll through his pictures and messages. His too shiny teeth, perfect skin, and flawless grammar made by chest buzz. I couldn't tell if I was excited to meet a guy who seemed to have it all together or if I felt it was too good to be true. He seemed perfect. He was the nicest guy I had talked to on the app in quite some time. I wanted him to be real. I needed him to be real. 

Ladies’ Choice was heavily pushing fake profiles to keep users engaged. Developers produced bots using generative AI systems to create photos, bios, and conversations between bots and users. It was widely known that people were being taken advantage of, so they would pay for subscriptions and keep the apps on the charts. But it also felt like my only option in my town.

 If someone didn't show up tomorrow, Perfect Guy was definitely not Real Guy, so I could browse the gardens myself. But if Perfect Guy was Catfish Guy, I would leave, pretending I left my purse in the car.

My last date was a dud; his name was Eric, and he had been promoted to Team Lead at his job at a bookstore because of his seniority, then got fired months later for never being on time or showing up. He said he was confused because that's what he'd always done. I responded, "Maybe the title brought higher standards and responsibilities," he rolled his eyes and countered, "Maybe they should have known what they were getting into based on my history." Honestly, I agreed. I left when he went to the restroom to avoid making the same mistake as the bookstore. 

I scrolled through more of my messages with Perfect Guy in the dark of my room. I glanced at the Ladies’ Choice icon in the corner. An eye that looked basic and drawn. A five-year-old could've sketched it. It felt as if it was looking back at me. I continued to scroll down his profile and click on a link at the bottom. The link claimed it led to his band's website, White Chocolate Walrus (he was a drummer), but instead, it loaded to a frowny face saying, 'Link Broken.' I took that as my cue to go to bed and closed the app for the night. 

I had seen him in line at the customer service desk when I entered the botanical gardens. "Izzy?" I said behind him. Perfect Guy turned around, looked down at me shyly, and said, "Annie?"

He was tall, so tall that it looked like he could hit his head in a door frame if not mindful. His shoulder slouched in a soft arc to conceal how much space he took up. His t-shirt read "taking control" with a stick figure running, holding the control button of a keyboard over their head.  

So, Perfect Guy was not a bot and was the same person from his pictures. Win. 

"Nice shirt," I said with an eyebrow raised.

He slid his hands into his pocket and leaned back on his heels with a flirtatious shrug. "I thought it might distract you from my hair being longer than my pictures'" 

His hair was different from his pictures. Online, he came across as clean and intentional with his blazer and college graduation photos from 2 years back with signs saying 'Congrats, Izzy #2021.' Now, he comes across as loose and casual with hair past his ears and a middle part, greasier. I liked the newer version of him better. This version seemed more authentic.

 We took a step forward in line. "You know," I said, "This place is free for the general exhibit rooms, right?" 

"Yeah, but I volunteer here and want to say hi…" He said, looking forward towards the service booth.

"What?" Surprised, I looked at him, "Why didn't you tell me last night when I brought up this place?"

He turned and made eye contact. "I wanted to impress you with my connections - watch this."

We took the final step to the front, and an old woman looked at us over her half-moon classes. "Isaiah."

"Hi, Stella. Two tickets for the private exhibit, please."

Stella frowned and rolled her eyes as she rolled her chair to the bookshelves behind her. She slid out two tickets labeled with his name from a binder.

"Those are the only two you get, don't ask for anymore." She said as she pushed them through the glass door separating us from her. 

"Got it! Thanks, Stella. Have a good one," Izzy said, unphased by her prickly demeanor.

"I wouldn't have minded paying the fee for the private exhibit. I'd hate to take money from this place." 

"Don't worry about it. All the volunteers get two free tickets. Stella just acts that way towards everyone. It's much easier to accept knowing that…" he paused, "Plus, this is the perfect way to cash them in. I get to take someone out who seems really awesome." That made me blush, and I turned my head in the opposite direction so he wouldn't see. 

It was my first time there since the renovation and new stakeholders took over five years earlier. I was a child the last time I had been at the Botanical Gardens. The place had lost most of its funding, so everyone had to pay overpriced ticket fees to get inside. When you walked through, you could play I Spy. In the foyer, I Spy lemongrass, a banana tree, and a plastic cup with a lipstick-stained straw, or I spy a Bromeliaceae planted directly next to Tickseed. The place was trashed, and the plants were not classified to flourish but to fight each other for nutrients and space. Now, it was completely different. 

Sectors divided the different types of plants with their own temperature-controlled rooms and humidity, a gift shop, and a waterfall where patrons threw pennies in to make wishes - along with the private exhibit called The Butterfly Escape, where butterflies floated through the air, landing flower to flower.

We explored all the general exhibits to save the best for last. We descended the stone stairs to the lower level. It was damper and warmer. The trees and plants reached the ceiling, creating an archway with large leaves and branches covering the pebble path. It was stunning - no part had lingering bits from before the renovation.

The space was large enough that we couldn't see the couple in front of us anymore as they descended the path. For a moment, it seemed they may be on a first date, too. The girl grazed her date's hand with her pinky as if asking permission to be closer. It made me feel closer to Izzy, like we made it to our own Oasis. 

"You know," I said, "I'm having a nice time so far."

"Me too." 

We fell into a comfortable silence as we continued forward. The path ended up winding through a cave and finally to the waterfall. 

"I want to make a wish!" I excitedly pulled out my purse in search of pennies for us. 

"Let's do it." His dimple deepened in a small smile. 

I placed a penny in his palm, and his cold hands struck me. I looked up at him, and he didn't seem to notice that his hands felt like ice. "Are you okay?" I said wearily, "Your hands…" I trailed off.

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it," Izzy says flippantly, "they're always like that. I have an iron deficiency." His reaction made me feel weary. I wasn't aware that iron deficiency could make you actually feel like you were made of metal. There was something else he was not saying, but I didn't want to bombard him about his personal life.

I cupped the penny in my hand and closed my eyes, making a wish. I wished to learn more about Izzy and find someone who truly knew me. To have a loving, balanced relationship someday. Something that I'd never seen or experienced before. I tossed my penny into the water, which sank to the bottom. I took a peak towards Izzy, and he was just staring straight ahead. He didn't even look present - it seemed like he was in power-save mode. "What did you wish for?" I asked, seeing that his penny was still in his hand. He shoved his fist forward with his hand closed around the penny and mechanically dropped it into the water. "I wished for Ladies’ Choice to bring more people together." 

"Oh, that's nice." I raised my eyebrow at him. 

We made our way to the rest of the general exhibit rooms. Ever since we made our wishes, he had kept mentioning Ladies’ Choice and how the app had changed his view on dating - that it has changed modern-day relationships for the better. "I'm glad you appreciate the app so much," I said sarcastically. I understand liking the app's essential functions and using it to meet people, but the rest didn't add up. It was as if he was a commercial for them. 

"You know," he said as we got in line for Butterfly Escape, the last room of the day. "You really are a splendor girl, Annie." I snorted and said, "You mean splendid." I glanced at him, hoping I didn't come off as rude as I'd felt. "I've had a nice time, too, Izzy." 

"That is what I meant. Thank you." Izzy nods his head at me. Izzy behavior had become more awkward as time went on. He kept staring off or phrasing sentences strangely. It was like he was so deep in his head that he was no longer on our date. It was as if he searching for something in his mind. 

We got to the front of the line, and Izzy grabbed our tickets from his pocket. The ticket collector took them, and a tiny spark glinted between their hands. I looked at both of them, but neither seemed to have noticed. "Did you see that?" I said, catching up with his long strides as we entered. "What?" he said in a pleasant tone.

"You guys just sparked when you touched. Like, robots or you have a destined connection like in a movie." I sputtered, "That wasn't a normal shock. Are you hurt?" 

"Nope," He said, looking at a butterfly landing on some milkweed.

Most families have filtered out of the Butterfly Escape, opting to head home for dinner or get the kids down for a nap. Leaving Izzy and me alone, staring at butterflies. He seemed to be enamored by them, acting more like he had at the beginning of today. 

But I couldn't get over his hand and how much he talked about Ladies’ Choice. It was weird. Why did his hand feel like death and spark? That didn't sound like an iron deficiency to me. It didn't sound like anything real. It sounded like he was a robot or cyborg. Maybe he had an accident, and his hand was a prosthetic. That had to be it. He felt it was too personal to share, so he developed an iron deficiency excuse. God, I felt bad. That had to be it.

I was so paranoid. That was clearly it. Izzy was excited about the app because we'd had such a good date, and he was private about his past. Now that I thought about it, I didn't know much about him except that he volunteered here and loved Ladies’ Choice. 

I moved towards him and grabbed his hand, "Hey, Izzy, I'd love to go out with you again." When I reached his hand and linked it with mine, he turned around towards me but then halted. He stilled so suddenly that it looked like he shut down. His head was leaning towards his chest. "Izzy?" I looked at our hands, and something fell between us. 

I released his hand and squatted down. It was his thumbnail. I balked back. His nail had a silver strip going across where the white should be. Izzy still hadn't moved, his feet locked in place. I grabbed his cold hand and looked where the nail should have been. It looked like a USB port for a computer. 

I bent down and picked up the nail. It could perfectly fit into the port. My stomach churned, and I stumbled back. What was he? Now that Izzy was stock-still with his head lulled forward, I slowly walked around him, fearing I'd somehow wake him even though his USB was in my hand. 

I jumped because the ground below me felt different, and I started to stumble. I saw that I had stepped on the botanical garden's brochure. That's when I saw the Ladies’ Choice emblem looking back at me, tucked away at the bottom with the other stakeholder icons. My mouth slowly fell open. My heart beat out of my chest. Nothing felt okay. I had to get out. That's when I made one final look at Izzy and saw a tattoo of an eye on the back of his neck. Izzy was not human, but was anyone here?

Ladies’ Choice's bots were now taking users on dates. That meant everyone here could be a bot attempting to make a perfect date for me. But, no, Stella was grumpy - she was too real. She couldn't be a bot. I had to get to her; she could need my help, or she could give me an explanation of what was going on.

I rushed towards the exit of the Butterfly Escape when the ticket collector stepped in front of the doorway as I made my way up the steps. 

"Everything alright, Annie?" His head tilted to the side with concern, looking past me and at Izzy's lifeless form standing in the middle of the room. "Yes, my date is feeling nauseous. I need to get him water if you would excuse me." 

As I started to slide past him, he grabbed my forearm. "We have a water fountain the other way." He pointed to the room's opposite corner, where a water fountain sat. "Yes, but my water bottle is in the car, and he needs lots of water." I looked down at his hand. His thumbnail was silver, like Izzy's. My heart fell to my stomach, and my breath became more shallow. I needed to leave. 

I yanked my arm out of his (its?) grasp and made a run for it. I sprinted up the landing and into the foyer. No one else was in the building. Everyone had conveniently cleared out. I glanced around for Stella and saw her form shadowed in the exit.

"Stella!" I screamed, running towards her, "We have to get out of here!" I almost reached the door when Stella looked at me through her eyelashes. Her thumbnail was silver. 

"Now, where are you going?" She grinned sweetly.