LOVE IN THE BAKING

APP TRIAL

Sleep never came easy for Callum since he quit his teaching job. Seeing the light on Thandie's window kept him up but reassured the man who felt he wasn't alone.

Unlike his sister Caitlin, Callum didn't feel the need to be with someone, but he sometimes desired company. The man sometimes missed the exchange by sharing a meal and having a simple conversation.

He didn't need more; at least, it's what he thought. One thing was sure sex was something he could bypass. A late bloomer, angst replaced the eagerness. Thus trust was vital when it came to sex. Callum needed to connect with the person first, and it was the connection part that lacked or became impossible to build in the new dating world.

Callum didn't know how to begin speaking to a woman who attracted him. He wasn't shy, but he apprehended being rejected, ignored, or just coming off as a goof. According to Caitlin, the best way for a man like him to meet someone was through dating apps. His sister was an expert; Caitlin tried every single app referenced. She did it for fun and made it sound as though she sacrificed herself for the community in which Callum was the only member.

The man attempted to remember the name of the app Caitlin raved about when she came. He never tried her suggestions, but he liked browsing to see what they had to offer. Callum found it unfair that men had to pay while women could sign up for free on most apps. Of course, the method was profitable for the startups. Women usually found matches within the first two hours after their registration, whereas men sometimes had to wait a week see a month to see the first exciting profiles.

Callum didn't remember the app's name, but since his last conversation with Caitlin, every advert was for OPPO. Yes, Google tapped on his discussions, and the man wasn't bothered by it. He had nothing to hide.

He clicked on one of the links and found himself in front of the yin-yang interface. The first thing that caught his attention was that the app was free for all genders. An indicator showed the number of people connected from each gender at that instant and in his area.

A virtual assistant asked him if it was his first time there.

Callum replied yes, and the virtual assistant called Oppo explained how the app worked. The rules were different than on any other app. One had to respond to a questionnaire. From then, the app suggested three profiles that the member could only swipe away once he had had a five minutes chat. Callum would not have other profiles unless he conversed with the selected women.

The app guaranteed it sought the best profiles that had sixty percent of matching answers. Oppo app considered the best matches were those that were not identical, and one had to pay if they desired to meet someone with whom they had a hundred percent common interest. According to the app, a hundred percent of matches led to boring relationships where one considered their lover more like kin rather than an actual love match.

Still, if one wanted that type of relationship, it was possible with the mirror membership that allowed them to meet their spitting personality.

The concept wasn't that farfetched. Callum didn't see himself dating himself. Also, his past relationships proved that the women he considered his type weren't always the best matches. Oppo was a dating app with a slight twist that only piqued the man's interest because it was free. There were no subscription fees whatsoever, and Oppo recommended that the member log in with a new email address that wasn't linked to any app to guarantee no phishing or id leaks.

Callum guessed they made money from the people who preferred paying fourteen ninety-nine pound monthly subscriptions to have perfect percentage matches. The man didn't believe that those profiles were better. He guessed the partners were established with questions such as what's your favorite color or music artist?