Intellect Dating

“Hi, I liked your profile. It’s not often I see Noam Chomsky listed as a favourite author. I’m sure we have much to talk about.” Kevin clicked send and moved on to view more profiles. He had been internet dating for over a year with minimal success and so had developed a spread betting technique. This would involve sending out as many messages as possible, each with a reference to some detail from the profile. Most replies had been banal and monosyllabic – “Hi”, “How are you?”, or acronyms; these bored Kevin most. However, urges must be fulfilled and he occasionally arranged meetups, usually after midnight and a cocaine fueled libido, but these were always one night stands. To negate the shame he would always bring a red balloon and blow it up when he arrived at the guys flat causing the confusion that Kevin desired.

A little red dot appeared over the message icon, that thing that causes excitement. “Thanks for your message Kevin. I put Noam Chomsky in my authors as a screen for anyone who might have some air of intelligence. I’m Kieron; don’t you think that K is a very strong letter to introduce your name? I think profiles in general say nothing about who I am. What does a favourite colour, food or country say about me? I wonder how one can have a favourite country. That’s why I put Iran.”

Kevin was instantly engaged on reading Kieron’s reply. This is what he had been searching for and started to script his reply but then hesitated. It’s probably best to wait a couple of days not to come across too manic, and this would give him time to think. Two days passed and then Kevin wrote. “Dearest Kieron, Just in the respect that you postulate, it would be impossible to describe myself in the conventional way. I am merely the product of the DNA helix evolved through time and manifested in a physical form, little different to an amoeba but with more possessions, worries and thoughts. These thoughts can be good or bad and I am the filter between which will win.”

Kieron replied. “Cogito, ero sum. This is not my thought, but thinking is all I do, it is all I can do. This will become apparent when we meet.”

Kevin and Kieron continued their correspondence and concluded that the grand filter of thought through millennium had revised ideologies and caused corruptions. Thoughts were continually corrected and every point in history had believed they had developed the correct thought. Maybe someday the progress of thoughts would arrive at the perfect thought therefore creating God itself; the process is backwards and God is not the creator but is being created.

It was time to meet and Kevin dressed all in black as he had done every day. He didn’t want to make today any different and compromise his identity, that being an absence of identity. Kevin and Kieron were marked by a lack of self. Arriving at Kieron’s flat Kevin pushed the buzzer, one of those annoying buzzer sounds that made Kevin wonder who had composed such a penetrating vibration. At the door Kevin waited a few moments and subsequently a young lady answered. “Hi I’m looking for Kieron. Is this the right place?” The lady smiled welcomingly and replied “Yes, you must be Kevin. Come in.” Kevin entered and was led down the hallway to the kitchen area where he was offered a cup of tea. “I’m so pleased you came.” the lady said. “Kieron has told me a lot about you. He doesn’t get to meet many like minded people.” It’s often awkward to meet a potential partner’s friend but the lady had quelled Kevin’s nerve by her amiable nature.

“I guess it’s time you meet Kieron. There’s something you should know first. Cogito, ero sum, that means ‘I think therefore I am.’ This is what Keven is. He thinks, that is all. Come, I will show you.” Kevin set down his tea and followed the lady to another room. The door slowly opened and Kevin froze at what was revealed. Inside, at the centre of the room, was a plinth with a cylindrical glass jar inside of which was a human brain, plump and almost pulsating. There were tubes coming from the container to metal tanks and blood pumps, and electrical wires connected to a computer resting on a table. “This is Kieron.” the woman introduced. Kevin was speechless. It was now apparent why Kieron was so philosophical about thinking, and Kevin wondered if he too was as reductionist to a brain. Am I just a brain? Kevin thought. He looked at his body and concluded otherwise; arms and legs were extensions through which he could interact with the world. And there was the sexual urge, one of the ulterior motives he had deep down for forming the intellectual conversations with Kieron in the first place.

“I know you are shocked.” Kieron broke the silence. “Let me tell you my story. The picture you saw on my profile is me, or was me before the accident. This is my girlfriend Lisa, she has been by my side since then. You might believe I cannot engage with the world and thoughts are all I have; this is why I use my thoughts in a way to influence people to do that for me. Lisa is my arms and legs. The internet is my voice.”

“So why do you use internet dating?” Kevin interrupted.

“This is the reason you are here. Lisa still has needs. And I still have desires.”

As Kieron made this proclamation the door shut behind him and he turned to find Lisa naked with a large strap-on dildo. Kevin then began to feel drowsy; the tea was beginning to have effect.