Creepy Finance Guy With Spreadsheet Of Match Com

Mark never looked quite right. Not deformed, not ugly, just…off. His eyes, a disturbingly light blue, seemed to scan you, cataloging data rather than making contact. And his perpetual, thin-lipped smile suggested he knew something unpleasant you didn’t.

He worked in finance, naturally. Predictive analytics, something involving algorithms and complex market trends. It suited him. At parties, he’d steer conversations towards ROI and capital expenditure, sending polite but glazed-over faces fleeing for the buffet. The only time Mark seemed truly animated was when discussing optimization strategies.

That’s when Sarah found out. Sarah, a bubbly graphic designer, had matched with Mark on Match.com. Their initial conversations were stilted but manageable. He asked a lot of questions, almost like an interview, but Sarah chalked it up to thoroughness. Then came the “spreadsheet” comment.

During their second date, over surprisingly mediocre Italian food, Mark mentioned he’d been “tracking their compatibility factors.” Sarah laughed, assuming it was a quirky joke. Mark didn’t laugh. He pulled out his phone, navigated to a cloud storage folder, and presented her with a detailed spreadsheet titled “Project Cupid.”

Rows listed every woman he’d ever interacted with on Match.com. Columns detailed attributes: age, education, income, hobbies, political leanings, even perceived personality traits gleaned from profile text and conversations. Each attribute was assigned a weighted score. Sarah scrolled further to find her own row, filled with numbers and formulas, culminating in a “Match Potential” score of 87.2%.

She was horrified. The sheet included verbatim quotes from their online chats, meticulously categorized and quantified. “Sense of Humor” received a low score, apparently. “Professional Ambition” got a boost. “Propensity for Spontaneous Adventure” was alarmingly absent.

“I’m constantly refining the algorithm,” Mark explained, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. “I’m aiming for optimal partner selection. Minimizing risk, maximizing long-term happiness.”

Sarah stammered, trying to process the sheer audacity and creepiness of it all. “This…this is insane, Mark! People aren’t data points!”

He tilted his head, seemingly puzzled. “But they are, Sarah. Everything is data. And with enough data, anything can be predicted, optimized. I’m simply applying the same principles I use at work to my personal life.”

Sarah fled the restaurant, leaving Mark to his meticulously crafted spreadsheet and his algorithmic search for love. She blocked him on Match.com, blocked his number, and deleted the entire experience from her memory as best she could. But sometimes, late at night, she’d find herself wondering about the other women on that spreadsheet, the ones who might have scored higher, and the chilling implications of a love life reduced to numbers and calculated probabilities.