My habit started in middle school, in the backs of magazines like CosmoGirl and Seventeen and Teen Vogue, where short quizzes promised girls guidance on issues ranging from “Does he like you?” to “How much does he like you?” Each Valentine’s Day in high school, our first-period teachers would pass out Scantron forms for a service called CompuDate, which promised to match each hormonal teenager with her most compatible classmate of the opposite sex, without regard for the social consequences. When they weren’t available or got sick of me, I turned to another lifelong source of support and comfort: the multiple-choice quiz. I knew I was doing something wrong but didn’t know what. I’d never had a boyfriend or even slept with a man, and I didn’t particularly like going on dates with men or hanging out with them, but I thought that was normal - all of my friends constantly complained about the guys they were dating. Until then, I had assumed I was straight I was just really, really bad at it. I was excited to meet her, but it was all happening so fast (if you don’t include the 28 confused years preceding it). I had sent Lydia the first message, asking to read the gay Harry Potter fanfic she had mentioned in her profile. It would be my first-ever date with a woman, made approximately 10 days after I came out to friends as “not straight, but I’ll get back to you on exactly how much” at the age of 28. Our first date was for drinks on a Monday night after a workday I had spent trying not to throw up from anxiety. Lydia and I met thanks to a quiz, the multiple-choice OkCupid personality assessment, which asks for your thoughts on matters like “Would a nuclear Holocaust be exciting?” (that’s a “no” from me) and then matches you with those you’re least likely to hate.