The Perfect Match

The Harvard Computer Society sent me a Valentine’s Day gift this year: the names, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses of ten Harvard girls. According to HCS, I was highly compatible with all of them.

They were my Datamatch results, the product of 28 questions carefully crafted by the guys I see passed out on Cabot Library couches in the middle of the day. Probably because they stayed up late playing World ofWarcraft. I glanced at the list of girls, and was surprised I knew almost none of them. The e-mail ended: “You’re under no obligation to contact the people on your list, but heck, why not?” Heck, indeed.

So, I asked myself, why not? I’m a senior. I’m single. If one of these girls goes Fatal Attraction on me, I’m out of here in three months. And when am I going to receive contact information for ten (most likely) intelligent, (probably) interesting, and (hopefully) attractive girls ever again?

I came up with a game plan: e-mail my top results, set up some dates over the next week, and see how things went. I opened up my Facebook profile so they could see what they were getting themselves into. None of the girls knew I was asking my other results. None of them knew that they would end up—anonymously—in FM.

I poked around a bit, asked some mutual friends about the girls, and feedback started coming in. My #1 result, a senior, received nothing but praise. A mutual friend said, “She just has this presence with her smile when she walks into a room. She’s great to be around.” Well played, Datamatch. I knew I had to treat #1 right, so I wanted to do dinner in Boston. I asked her out to Figs on Charles Street. She wrote back the next day, and we settled on Wednesday night.

I got there a little early and waited for her in the restaurant. We shook hands, and, just like a Government thesis writer, I started my argument off with numbers. “We are 96.92 percent compatible, so this should be the greatest date of our lives. No pressure.”

Datamatch is genius at common interest. There aren’t many other people at Harvard who love country music, but both of us did. We liked the same movies, read the same books, and might both be across the pond in six months. She was cool. When the check came, I put



my card down immediately, yet she offered to pay. When I waved her off, she didn’t argue. Harvard women: take note.

Full disclosure: Datamatch did have one glitch that night. She liked the Red Sox. Still, it was nice to finally meet a Sox fan who could be diplomatic towards my Yankees loyalty.

A few days later, I met up with my #10, another senior. Not quite as compatible (93.07), so I suggested getting burritos at Felipe’s. Datamatch strikes again! I love Bill Clinton, and she had interned at the Clinton Foundation. Conversation was easy, but I couldn’t tell if she





was single or if she even thought it was a date. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked burritos.

I picked Peet’s Coffee for #6 and #7. No, not at the same time. #7 didn’t order anything, and #6 ordered the same drink as me, a Masala Chai Latte. Since Peet’s is usually packed, I walked over both times to the Forum at the Kennedy School to hang out. I had never met or seen either of them before. #7 was cool and confident. When she told me she wanted to be a screenwriter, I asked her a million questions because I love movies, so it ended up being more like an interrogation than a friendly coffee date. My fault, not Datamatch’s. #6 was a politico like me, but dwelled on it a bit too much. I worked for Hillary for two summers, but a conversation about politics on a first date is like a chicken running through a minefield. It never gets off the ground, and the results aren’t pretty.

And that was all. #2 and #9, both freshmen, sent apologetic e-mails declining my offer. #9 wrote, “Life is just a little too complicated for me right now,” while #2 replied, “I forgot to remove myself from the system before the deadline.” I hope their excuse-making skills improve before senior year. I actually knew #5, and so I believed her when she said she was busy practicing for Ghungroo and writing her thesis. But is anyone really too busy for ice cream? #3, another senior, was a roommate of someone with whom I had a little history, and she waved me off by suggesting we meet up at senior bar. I was supposed to go out to Cambridge 1 with #4, and she agreed, but then got “busy,” too. I never used to think I had much more free time than most people, but that has got to be the reason.

I had no overarching philosophy for Datamatch, but I agree with N. Gregory Mankiw: Harvard is the world’s most elite dating service. It makes JDate.com look like Craigslist. Why don’t we take more advantage of it? Worst case scenario, you spend a little time with someone, learn about their lives and their interests. You might learn something new about yourself. You find out what you really value. And, maybe, just maybe, you get a second date.