Page 97 of Falling Off Script

Jessie stares. “Define ‘innovative.’ Is this just another dating app with extra buzzwords?”

“We’re not reinventing dating,” I say. “We’re just... admitting it doesn’t work without support. Look at Matt and Rachel.”

Adrian winces. “They were a disaster.”

“And they still like each other,” I say. “They just couldn’t get past the noise on their own.”

“I’m still not sure if they ended up together because of us or despite us,” Adrian mutters.

Jessie throws up her hands. “Are you kidding me? I wasyourmatchmaker! I dragged both your emotionally constipated asses into the same room!”

Adrian and I glance at each other, then at her.

“Exactly,” I say. “Which is why we’d like to rehire you.”

Her brow lifts. “Wait—rehire me?”

Adrian nods. “First official matchmaker on staff. Full-time.”

She squints at us. “Is this a soft launch or a fever dream?”

“We’re serious,” I say. “And there’s a dental plan. We want you on the team.”

She lowers her mug like it might explode. “All right. Talk.”

“So, technically, this started because Adrian made too much money teaching men not to text ‘wyd’ at 2 a.m.”

Adrian shrugs. “I already hacked attraction. Seems like the next step is fixing love. Vertical integration.”

Jessie snorts. “You do realize your dating advice is half the reason I stopped dating?”

I grin. “People don’t need more dating advice. They need results. They need friction. Someone to walk them through the chaos.”

Adrian points at her. “And that’s where you come in.”

“You screen,” I say. “I coach women. Adrian coaches men. But this isn’t just coaching—it’s matchmaking with context. We pair people who’ve actually dealt with their own mess first.”

Jessie watches me with a kind of cautious optimism. Like she wants to believe in this but has also seen me try to organize my spice rack alphabetically and emotionally spiral somewhere around ‘cumin.’ Still, she doesn’t stop me.

“Is it like... couples’ therapy, but for future couples?” she asks finally.

“Exactly,” I say. “Hopefully more fun, though.”

“You know,” Adrian adds, “I’ve spent money on dumber things.”

Jessie eyes him. “Name three.”

He raises a finger. “Hot tub podcasting.”

Another. “Protein shakes that somehow hadnoprotein”

A third. “And that time I paid a man on Fiverr to yell affirmations at me in a Scottish accent.”

I interrupt. “Wait. That was money well spent.”

Jessie tries to steer the conversation back to business. “So it’s curated, cross-coached, data-driven matchmaking... with built-in content production?”

I nod. “And you’re the first full-time hire. With benefits. And a cool title you can make up as long as it fits on a mug.”

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