by Sorell Oates
‘Nothing is fail safe. Online hackers nowadays are superior in skill. Technology becomes outdated as soon as it hits the market,’ said Katy dubiously.
‘There’s no incentive that I can see for a man to want to fake it,’ said Oscar bored with the conversation.
‘That implies only women are gold-diggers. If men know a dating website has rich women on it, it’ll become a cattle market for a man looking to use a woman for money,’ objected Katy.
‘Even if you were a computer and economics genius and did pass the tests to present yourself as a millionaire, you have to pay the subscription a month in advance. $5,000 deducted straight away from your account. If you don’t have it for the second month, your profile is locked. The company won’t lose any money,’ reasoned Imogen.
‘Your friend Clara was lucky to have the Locke-Smythes prepare the legalities of the company and website set up, said Robert drily. ‘I’m sure there’s enough loop holes provided to ensure your friend Clara doesn’t hang herself or a lot of loopholes would increase her chances of hanging herself. I can’t tell for sure, because as you pointed out earlier Imogen, I didn’t receive a higher education like my perfect cousins.’
‘We’re not going back there. Drop it or go,’ warned Rupert.
Robert’s expression suggested he was contemplating the idea.
‘How about women faking to get on the database? I bet there’s loads, scamming and slipping in under the radar to get access to the highest level of society,’ quizzed Katy.
‘Again the financial checks are a strong deterrent. Even an inspired expert gold digger would find it hard to raise funds to pass the screening. There has to be proof the funds exist. Faking a bank statement can’t be done, because the statements are crossed checked directly with the bank to confirm the account balance.’
Katy had to keep from smiling. Her suspicion that unusual account transactions weren’t identified affirmed her theory that only bank balances were checked. The screening wasn’t that tight in respect of keeping out gold-diggers.
‘Do they do basic research on the women as well? Make sure they are the kind of person looking for love?’
‘No. It would take far too many man hours and be a waste of resources. If they have the finances to get the go ahead, the rest is up to them. They have exclusive access to single British millionaires for life and all they had to do was scan over a few documents. It’s fair. You have to prioritize the paying customer.’
‘The women are getting a rough deal. They have to earn a certain amount and jump through high hoops proving financial independence, which somehow demonstrates they can conduct themselves in wealthy social circles but aren’t tempted by the glamour of men. Then Exclusive Love throws these women, seeking their soul mates into a den under the pretense it’ll be full of affectionate meerkats, but once inside they discover a few savage hungry lions hunting,’ said Katy provocatively.
‘That is an accurately observed and exemplary constructed and presented summary of how Exclusive Love operates,’ asserted Oscar.
‘Here, here,’ concurred Rupert. ‘Sadly, however well intentioned, those dating websites are businesses and are profit based. The concept of lonely, strangers finding love on the internet is wonderful, but it doesn’t put food on the table or shoes on your feet. At the end of the day it’s the concept, that your Mr. or Mrs. Right is a click away that drives people to these sites to pay the subscription fees.’
‘Essentially then, any dating website from a massive international company, to a boutique service like Exclusive love isn’t selling a service at all. It’s selling a belief. It’s selling ‘hope that love is out there’. The tech and support online is merely an accessible structure to nurture that belief,’ summarized Katy.
‘An online playground people enter when they want hope. Given it’s a thriving industry perhaps it does deliver. Paying a subscription fee generates an emotional investment in the website you choose. If you get in the position I was and find a growing online community of desperate and dateless men and women it eradicates the feeling that people perceive you as a social outcast and increases the chances of you finding your ‘soul-mate’ online,’ concluded Oscar.
‘We’ve been harsh on Exclusive Love and my friend Clara. Are we in agreement that the website eliminates the feeling of loneliness rather than feeding it?’
Imogen was met with a stony wall of silence.
‘Think that answers your question, Imogen,’ said Katy.
‘You’re sitting with four other people, but I’m guessing feeling alone with us condemning your friend,’ said Oscar.
‘No one’s condemning Clara. It’s about understanding. Sometimes you have to dig deep and do a fair bit of picking. I don’t believe what Clara’s doing is different to anyone else operating an online dating service. It’s not a crime to promote the idea of true love, but joining a community of the desperate and dateless doesn’t stop feelings of isolation,’ yawned Rupert.
‘I guess because I was there at its inception, I wanted it to be different. I wanted the website to deliver what it promised,’ said Imogen dejectedly.
‘To deliver you need to focus on your female clients. As a Financial Adviser I wouldn’t advise investing hours and money into a segment of your market that doesn’t generate an income. Taking into account your revenue, as your Financial Adviser I’d also say if it ain’t broke don’t fix it,’ said Oscar matter-of-factly.
‘I was there at the beginning. I have shares in Exclusive Love. I loaned Clara the money for the initial outlay. It is a business and we started with a firm objective. I hate thinking our brain child is basically a big con,’ confessed Imogen.
‘Ahhh, the truth of your staunch defense of the money making machine,’ said Robert.
‘You could always raise the points with Clara to get things back on track. She was there at the start. Surely she’ll feel the same,’ offered Katy.
‘It’s no good approaching her with criticism. She’d flip,’ asserted Rupert, familiar with the relationship between his sister and her best friend and business partner.
‘It’s no good being in business with someone that can’t take criticism,’ said Oscar. ‘Constructive criticism. Present potential solutions to the problems. That way it won’t be an attack, but a stepping stone to reining the beast in.’
‘Surely with the revenue generated you must have conducted research. Do you have feedback forms, where people can inform you if they’ve found love to give you an idea of the success rate? Do the membership figures on the database fluctuate? Do you monitor those people that delete their profiles and include a compulsory box for them to check why they’re leaving the site?’ pumped Katy.
‘We’re in a quandary. As you correctly pointed out Katy, given the high jumps women have to leap through to get access to the website, it’s unlikely they’d delete their profiles whether they’re having success online or not. It’s free and they can revisit if and when they please. The male clients we can monitor to a certain degree because they pay.’
‘But the data is skewed with the inclusion of those using it as a sex website,’ identified Rupert. ‘In terms of feedback forms, Exclusive Love is that—exclusive. They boast discretion, confidentiality and exclusivity. Paying clients are British males. They don’t want to be outed as millionaires and they certainly don’t want their personal life online for all and sundry to read.’
‘I’d hardly equivalate the membership of a boutique dating firm as ‘all and sundry’. I’m sure other members would be happy to hear success stories. It would boost morale for the women,’ argued Katy.
‘Fine. Oscar. Are you happy to go public on Exclusive Love and announce your heart has been stolen by a twenty-three year old nymph?’ asked Rupert.
Oscar knew Katy was expecting a positive response to the question, but he knew Rupert was familiar with his culture and upbringing.
‘No, not me,’ he said quietly.
‘Why ever not?’ asked Katy.
> ‘Because my private life is private. I don’t want to broadcast my love-life in any forum, no matter the size.’
‘Yet you were determined Imogen and Rupert, were made fully aware that I am an important part of your life.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Katy. Imogen and Rupert are friends. That isn’t a public forum.’
‘With respect. Imogen and Rupert weren’t my friends. Not once did you ask how I would like to be introduced or what label I wanted. You assumed I’d be thrilled you were giving me a thumbs up. Acknowledging that one of those ill-bred, loud, rich, opinionated American women was in fact a worthy dating prospect for the duration of your temporary stay in New York.’
This time it was Rupert, Imogen and Robert cringing as the drama unfolded. Exchanging looks at every verbal shot fired.
‘Katy, I said I don’t want my personal life made public.’
‘You keep moving the goal posts, Oscar. One second Imogen and Rupert are your oldest and closest friends who ought to know about ‘us’. Now though, discussing your reluctance to announce our relationship online, you’re suggesting Imogen and Rupert fall into the category of the general public who shouldn’t be privy to this subject matter of your private life. Pick a side and stay on it Oscar. Your argument weakens when you change positions to bolster your reasoning.’
‘Katy, you might like to consider the feelings of our hosts and how welcome a domestic row is on a yacht over a friendly Sunday night dinner. Whatever difference of opinions we have, those issues can wait for discussion somewhere proper. Surely we’re mature enough to be civil in the company of others.’
‘Close friends, real friends don’t care about something as pathetic and common as an arguing couple. I’m sure Rupert and Imogen fall out and have done with their partners.’
‘I’m sure they do, but I’m certain they don’t feel the need to turn it into a piece of the street theater in a bid to attract an audience.
‘I’m only saying that friends accept you no matter what. Minor irritations they’ll get over. It happens. Do you think burying this under the carpet and pretending it hasn’t happened now will make anyone here less uncomfortable?’
‘Katy, enough! We’ll discuss it later.’
‘We’ll discuss it now!’
As her hand slammed the table, Robert’s empty wine glass rocked precariously on the edge of the wooden table before tumbling to the floor. Although both Robert and Rupert, felt they could’ve caught the glass they didn’t dare move for fear that catching the glass may somehow interfere with the organic growth of the argument. Even as it shattered, splintering glass over the wooden decking none of the British representatives acknowledged the accident.
‘Guys, I’m so sorry,’ said Katy without hesitation. ‘I hadn’t realized I’d knock the table like that. Can you direct me to where I can find a dustpan and brush?’
‘It’s fine, said Rupert and Imogen robotically.
‘It was an accident. Don’t concern yourself over it,’ said Imogen.
‘It’s not the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last,’ said Rupert, aware his voice sounded a hollow as his platitudes.
‘All the same. It was my fault. I’d like to help,’ insisted Katy, as Rupert slunk below deck to retrieve the dustpan and brush.
‘No!’
Oscar’s voice cut across her. His harshness and detached tone shook her. Exhausted from the pretense, unused to being shouted at, Katy forced herself to walk to the opposite end of the boat.
Imogen stood to follow.
‘Let me go,’ sighed Robert. ‘She’ll naturally and correctly assume you’ll side with Oscar. You’ll only upset her. Having been excluded from the conversation for the majority of the night, at the very least I’ll be seen as impartial.’
‘I don’t believe you any of your comments tonight actually contributed in a positive way to any part of the conversation.’
‘Perhaps not, but maybe I can rectify that now. You two may be content to sit there in judgment, but did it cross any of your minds what tonight must’ve been like for her? She’s twenty-three years old. She’s known Oscar for all of five minutes and finds herself publicly and verbally abused by her boyfriend. Plus, she’s trapped on a yacht with his closet friends who are more concerned over applying the rules of etiquette to a dinner party than tending to the emotional well-being of a girl who’s supposed to be their guest.’
Striding down the deck he gazed out into the tranquil bay.
‘You hanging in there, kid?’ he said attempting an American drawl.
‘Sure. I didn’t want to fall to pieces in front of Oscar. I didn’t want to be weak or break. I feel broken and bloodied, but inflicting my pain on Imogen and Rupert wouldn’t fair.’
‘But it’s okay to inflict on me?’
‘You chose to come down here. I didn’t have much choice. I am sorry you had to be the one to babysit the crazy American.
‘I don’t think Imogen or Rupert care what you do. It’s not like they followed you is it? No one instructed me to tend you. I did that of my own accord.’
‘Thank you. Given your behavior tonight it was unexpected, but I’m pleased you did.’
‘Katy, your boyfriend’s wrong for you.’
‘You only met him tonight. You aren’t in a position to say that.’
‘I saw how he treated you and he doesn’t deserve you.’
‘All couples row and it’s ugly for anyone watching. Couples often make up once they confront the underlying issue.’
‘Did he give you any indication tonight that he was capable of doing that?’
‘What goes on behind closed doors is private. Only the two people in a relationship truly know what’s going on.’
‘I know what I saw tonight and it’s bad news. Lose him. He’s only going to walk away from you when Daddy calls him back to the London office. You might feel bloody and broken right now, but I assure you, you’re only bruised. He will break you, though. I’d hate that to happen.’
‘He wouldn’t do that. Oscar’s a closed book but he’s not a cruel man.’
‘Katy, Katy, Katy,’ muttered Robert brushing the strands of hair behind her ear.
A cough had Katy’s neck swiveling sharply. Robert remaining grounded and in close physical proximity of her. He saw Oscar start a deliberate, slow pace towards them. Refusing to move out of her personal space, he whispered into her ear.
‘If you ever need to talk or a shoulder to cry on, I’ll give you my number.’
He slipped a business card into her hand.
‘It’s got my home address on it. If you ever get tired of dating a stuck-up old fogy who sees you as a trophy girlfriend and want a real man, feel free to visit. I’ll sort you out.’
Approaching, Oscar regretted letting Robert make eye contact with him. His smirking expressed every dirty fantasy he had regarding Katy. Robert’s refusal to break the stare was akin to a young buck challenging an old stag. Part of him would have loved to lash out with a sharp right jab, but there’d been enough trouble for one night. Girding his loins, he prepared to talk to Katy.
‘I owe you an apology. I should never have spoken to you the way I did. To do so in public was unforgivable. It was disrespectful, intimidating, humiliating and patronizing. I was dictating your behavior as if you were a naughty school girl, when actually I was the one behaving childishly. I couldn’t see it at the time.’
‘What about when you screamed at me when I offered to help clean up the broken glass,’ Katy’s voice was on the verge of sobs.
‘I’m not sorry about that, but I’d like to explain.’
Oscar continued.
‘I was furious with you. Completely consumed by how I was appearing in front of my friends. I think what frustrated me was that I couldn’t control you, which is no bad thing. I’m used to pulling the strings. Sometimes I forget I’m not the puppet master. It was a valuable lesson. When you emphasized your desire to talk things through, I thought I’d explode in embarras
sment—especially when the glass broke.
‘You, Katy, were just you. Happy to wade in to help. Acknowledge what happened and rectify it. Imogen and Rupert were never going to let you do that, but when you were insistent you started to stand. Forgive me for saying, but you’ve been wobbly on those heels all night. That, thrown into the equation vast quantities of alcohol, emotional upset and your rushing to help, I had a mental picture of you falling or losing your shoes and cutting yourself badly. I wasn’t saying ‘No, don’t help’. It was a ‘No, don’t move you might cut yourself.’
‘I want to say sorry and make up but I don’t know what to apologize for,’ sniffled Katy.
‘You don’t owe me an apology that’s why.’
‘I’m sorry I upset you. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you sad. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends. I’m sorry for myself, I made a bad impression.’
‘You didn’t. They think you’re great.’
‘I felt as though you expected me to sit there not complaining. You wanted me applauding your restrained, inhibited, crippled British emotional expression which prevents you from submitting an online form saying you found love on Exclusive Love.com. When it came to my cultural instinct to confront the issue, talk it out, resolve it to move on, it felt like you were unable to respect my country’s customs.
If I’m honest, part of me felt you were putting Rupert and Imogen above me. It was as if their feelings of awkwardness were far more important to you than alleviating my distress. It mirrored your concern that Imogen and Rupert knowing the status of your love life was more relevant than considering how I might feel meeting a friend you’ve known since before I was born.’
‘You know that’s crazy, right? You mean more to me than anyone. More to me than anyone I’ve ever had a relationship with.’
‘Yes, I know that. What was happening was this cultural clash of your behaving formally and internalizing and my upbringing from an open house conducive to sharing and discussing.’
