Behind closed doors

Today I read about a new technology sounding completely ridiculous and perfectly rational – all at the same time. Let me explain.

There’s a new dating app called Refrigerdating, which works in conjunction with the Samsung Family Hub Refrigerator. In case you’ve never seen this appliance in person, it’s what you might call a fridge of the future, the kind of thing you might have seen in Jane and George Jetson’s kitchen. It has a touchscreen door and a built-in camera, allowing you to browse what’s inside the fridge without even opening the door.

The app developer apparently decided to marry the Love Connection concept with modern fridge technology. By using the app, you can peek inside the fridge of your potential date to see if you find it intriguing, disgusting, weird or just plain barren. I don’t know if this dating app has a tool to let you send messages to other users, but if it does, I imagine the conversation might go something like this:

“Hey there. You don’t know me, but I’ve seen what you’ve got behind those sexy, stainless steel doors. Looks like you’ve got a bottle of mustard from 2018. I’ve got a jar of mayo that’s right on the verge of being dangerous. Why don’t we meet in real life and see if we can get these crazy condiments together, shall we?”

As nuts as it might seem on the surface, there’s no denying you can tell quite a bit about a person by the things with which he surrounds himself. If there’s any truth to the old saying, “you are what you eat,” then maybe it makes perfect sense to find out what’s in a person’s fridge before you take things any further.

For example, a person who doesn’t drink might not want to go out with someone who stocks enough beer for a giant Super Bowl party, even though it’s the middle of June. A health nut might not want to meet for coffee with someone whose fridge screams cholesterol problem. Someone like me, who’s easily grossed out by the smell of fish, would take one look at a fridge containing sardines and call it an automatic deal breaker. That’s not judgmental, mind you. It’s just acknowledging there’s an acceptable way to fill a fridge, and then there are sardines.

If our family had a fancy camera fridge and strangers peeked at its contents, they’d see that we’re telling ourselves lies about leftovers. Every night after dinner, we dutifully pack up the remaining food into glass storage containers and seal them up tight, saying it will make a great lunch in the next few days, but then those leftovers linger and linger and sometimes morph into something looking more like a science experiment and less like leftover rice. Then one day, when I can’t take that level of “ewww” a second longer, I remove said leftovers and dump them down the garbage disposal while holding my breath. There are leftover lovers in the world, and there are leftover leavers. There’s no denying the refrigerated evidence.

So maybe getting up close and personal with a stranger’s refrigerator is just as good a screening process as anything else. Who am I to say two people can’t feel a spark over a shared passion for pickles? Why not get hot and heavy over hummus? It’s a big, complicated world out there, and people are bound to have different tastes. Maybe today’s singles will find eventually their match right behind the refrigerator door.

Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at rockwoodfiles@cox.net. Her book is available on Amazon.

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