Flavor of Harvard Dating App is Born — Day 5

Later that night, I sat on my bed reading Solipsism: The Ultimate Empirical Theory of Human Existence by Richard Watson as Wes worked beside me on his Advanced Shakespeare Studies passages. Over dinner, I’d told him about my interaction with the professor and with Deacon. I wouldn’t have told him, but seminar was the following evening, and I thought Deacon might bring it up.

Wes rubbed my knee, sensing my off energy. “Still worried about Deacon?” he asked staring at my mouth until I smiled. “He’s a douche, like I said. I was a senior at Exeter while he was a freshman. Truly, Soph, he’ll insult everyone at some point until he’s alone. Now, tell me about your day. Anything good happen?”

I searched my thoughts for anything other than solipsism. When I glanced at my notebook, I saw that big block letters I’d drawn Flavor of Harvard. “Oh, yes!” I exclaimed. “I was thinking since you’re leaving for financial reasons, maybe we could raise enough money to keep you here. I mean, everyone here is insanely wealthy…”

“Not us,” he interrupted.

“Yes, everyone but us, it seems,” I said. “But we have something better.”

He leaned into my shoulder and kissed my collarbone gently. “And what’s that exactly?” he asked between tiny kisses.

I leaped from my bed to concentrate. “Ingenuity!”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m listening. How can you raise nearly two-thousand additional dollars per month for my next two years of graduate school? Maybe more since my landlord raises rent whenever my lease is up.”

“Hear me out,” I said slowly, feeling the nerves flutter in my stomach. “I—I…”

I started and stopped several times since it sounded ridiculous even in my head. Then, I counted back from three and blurted it out without pasues.

Three, two, one!

“Flavor of Love came out the year most of us were born. It’s irreverent and chauvinistic and outdated in its terminologies, but it’s also completely original and I’ve never seen anything close to like it in my whole life. I mean, I get that I’m not a television aficionado, but I see that the contestants are funny and lovable. Even the awful ones have redeeming qualities about them. And Flav? Flav is hiding in plain sight as a giant clock wearing, gold-teeth donning short king who is a freaking genius! He’s pretending to be a clown, but there are glimpses of prodigy in him. I can see them, and I think that’s why these ladies and our mothers loved him. He’s lovely, understanding, and kind-hearted. Also, I’ve been researching the Bachelor franchises! Bachelorette and Bachelor have been going for what? Twenty-something years with spin-off after spin-off. But Flavor of Love is a thousand times more original. They all copied Flav, and this show is sinking into obscurity while they thrive. I don’t think so…”

“Okay, okay,” Wes stood and squished his forehead to mine. “I agree with you, Soph, Flav and the show should be legend. But how do you propose we make money from it? Recreate a Harvard version in our dorms or something a la Zuckerberg circa 2005?” He laughed but I did not.

I paused. Repeating it in my mind. Recreate a Harvard version in our dorm. Recreate a Harvard version in our dorm. Recreate a Harvard version in our dorm.

“Oh, my God,” I said in a whisper and then looked up at Wes. “That’s a phenomenal idea! But do you know anyone who can build at app for free?”

“I do,” Wes shook his head yes and took a slow seat on the bed. “But you won’t like who it is.”

“Great!” I replied. “We should get Iris to design a layout between her German lessons! She could give us something bright and punchy. We could charge, what? Two dollars and ninety-nine cents? And who would be the most eligible bachelor on-campus to date? Who could be our Flav? Oh, wait! I know. Stage one can be nominating the leading man. How about we put flyers around with a QR code leading to a form where students can nominate the hottest guy on campus! Then we can dwindle it down to the three top choices and they can vote. Then, we hold open auditions for the first twenty contestants. We could charge somehow, tech and applications are not my wheelhouse, but your app person can do that easily, I’m sure.”

“Soph?”

“We need to set up a meeting. You, me, Iris, and your app person.”

“Soph?”

“We can be the developers,” I said hearing him call my name but in a faraway kind of way. I was lost in dreams and thoughts. “Harvard dorms are a breeding ground for that. I’m surprised no one has thought of this already!”

“Sophia!”

His hollering halted me. “Sorry, what do you want to add?”

“The app developer I know is Deacon.”

“Well, shit,” I said.

Wes rose from the bed and kiss me gently on the lips. “He’s an asshole,” he started. “But he’s also the best damn app guy at this school. He could’ve easily gone to MIT with that big braid of his. Also, he’s rich enough to do it for fun.”

“Shit!” I repeated.

Iris knocked on my bedroom door. “Come in,” I said.

She peeked through, her green eyeshadow bursting in before her. “I wasn’t trying to listen. Not really, I promise. But you were loud and manic, and my bed is right there. So…”

“So, you’re open to it?” Wes asked, his signature gaze now falling on her.

“Open to it?” he asked throwing the door open. “I’ll put German on pause for this! And that’s saying something. When do we start?”

“We start when we get Deacon onboard.”

“If,” Wes started. “We can get Deacon on board after calling him legacy in front of Professor Yates.”

“Sophia, you didn’t,” Iris held her mouth, her eyes double their original size.

“How was I supposed to know it was such an afront?” I said trying to put on a bit more of my accent, but I could tell it was a pointless ploy for the two of them. “Okay, I knew the gravity when I said it, but he’s a…”

“Douche?” Wes interrupted. “Yes, you’re right, but we need him. And since you said it, I think you should talk to him.”

“You mean grovel?” I asked.

I looked from Wes to Iris and then from Iris to Wes as they nodded in perfect unison.

“Shit!”