I stare up at the screen and await my fate. I’m surrounded by hundreds of young people, we all sit shoulder to shoulder wondering if today is the day we’re Matched, or if we go back to our room alone once more.

If I wasn’t so sick of seeing the same four concrete walls, I’d mock the ladies desperately hoping to be chosen. Today I’m almost ready to see my name pop up on the screen next to some random guy just to get it over with. I’m tired of waiting to see who I’ll be forced to spend the rest of my life with.

They say the ‘test’ is backed by research, designed to create your perfect match. “It brings science to soulmates!” they say. Their slogan is everywhere, slowly brainwashing the masses until all we can think about is the day we finally Match.

But I know better. The matches are meant to preserve bloodlines. To avoid mixing so-called tainted genetics with those more pure. The marketing is simply there to keep us compliant with their bottom line.

Problem is, their bottom line never contains same sex matches. People like me are completely thrown out of the equation, doomed to be Matched to someone we could never hope to love in the way they want us to.

The mega screen above our crowded room blasts on, and two empty face cards appear on the screen. Like me, everyone is imagining their face on the screen. But unlike me, they’re actually excited. There isn’t a worse fate in my opinion.

The crowd cheers as the faces on the cards rapidly cycle through hundreds of hopefuls. It stops on two near perfect looking people, and more cheers erupt from the crowd.

“Clara Dunn and Charles Lorsen, you have been Matched. Please make your way to the center stage.” The smartly dressed woman standing under the mega screen says over the loud speaker.

“That’s me!!” The blonde girl sitting next to me jumps up.

The girls around us try to look excited for her, but it’s clear from their too-excited squeals that they’re all just jealous.

A little wave of congratulations come from all around us, but I just sit silently, grateful it’s not me. The blonde must mistake my relief for sadness, because she stops in front of me and grabs my hand.

“Don’t worry hun, I’m sure your Match will appear soon.” She pats my head like a dog.

I look her dead in the eyes and smile, “I truly hope not.”

She gives me a disgusted look, her little nose scrunched up in confusion. She quickly turns away from me and makes her way down to the stage. The young man, a tall blonde who does look like he was hand picked for her meets her on stage. They give each other a tender hug, and he whisks her off her feet and carries her off into the curtains beyond the stage.

“Let’s give another round of applause for our first Match!” The woman on the stage yells.

As expected, the crowd goes wild. I don’t join them. I just sit hunched back in my seat. Fourteen other lucky couples are Matched, and we finally get to the last one of the week.

“And now for our last Match of the week, who will it be?” The woman on the stage says excitedly, like we are in a game show. Which, I suppose we kind of are.

The faces on the screen rotate through once more, the crowd dead silent in anticipation. And then they stop on a face I recognize all too well. My own.

I sit there in a daze as the crowd cheers. All I can do is stare dumbfounded at my own headshot.

“There is our last couple for this week, congratulations Taylor and Micah!” The woman says.

I still don’t move, frozen in panic.

“That’s you!” The dark haired girl next to me nudges my shoulder. She gives me a reassuring smile and grabs my arm as she lifts me to my feet.

My dread weighs me down as I slowly make my way through the crowd to the stage. My Match, Micah, is already there looking equally sick to his stomach.

I walk up next to him. He’s shorter than I am, which I suppose isn’t hard to do considering I’m just shy of six feet tall. But he’s a whole head shorter. He has to tilt his entire head back just to look me in the eyes.

“Hi,” he says and reaches his hand out.

I take it and give it a good shake. “Hi.”

It’s a perfectly awkward introduction. The Match Makers did well.

“Let’s hear it one more time for Taylor and Micah!” The woman comes up between us and grabs our hands. She raises them in the air like we just won the Olympics.

The crowd all stands and cheers as we are shuffled off the stage and into the back room where the other fifteen couples wait.