She: Since you’ve been in Denmark all week, I’ve had a lot of time to think about our relationship.

Z: I’ll catch the next flight home, so that we can talk about it for six hours over a bottle of wine and some chocolate.

She: I went to one of those online dating sites, Chemistry.com.

Z: Is this because I went to a topless beach? It’s Europe. It’s what they do. At least I didn’t wear my Speedo.

She: I wasn’t really looking for a date. I was just kind of curious.

Z: Oh, yeah!

She: Not that kind of curious.

Z: Oh, well.

She: It advertises that it’s “all about finding you the perfect relationship — whatever ‘perfect’ means to you.” I mean, how could I resist?

Z: I would think that maybe the wedding band and the 8-year-old might offer some sort of disincentive. Hussy.

She: It was purely in the interest of science. And a column.

Z: Did you at least write that you could never replace the true love you already had found, but still would be happier than any other woman in the world with whatever weak facsimile was offered up to you?

She: Not exactly.

Z: What a sham.

She: I had to take a quiz. Koss helped me.

Z: Way to go, Oedipus. C’mon, I’ve only been gone for three days.

She: The questions were mostly about what you want from a relationship, how much communication you like to have, how important neatness is to you, whether you would like a husband who actually wears his wedding ring, that sort of thing.

Z: You know that men who wear their wedding rings get hit on more than men who don’t. I don’t wear mine just for you.

She: Turns out I’m a negotiator/explorer.

Z: The negotiator I get — you even negotiate with yourself when you make decisions. But you’re hardly Dora the Explorer.

She: No ser un tirón. Simplemente porque no han trazado las nuevas … besides, it was only my secondary characteristic.

Z: I thought secondary characteristics were for plants in biology class.

She: It even offers relationship tips for negotiators.

Z: You’ll have to tell me about those, because it turns out that I’m an explorer/director.

She: No! You didn’t take the test, too!

Z: Uh, you told me to — for the column.

She: Ahem … No! You didn’t take the test, too!

Z: Why, yes, I did. What a coincidence.

She: How did yours turn out?

Z: I aced it. I totally got everything right.

She: It was a relationship quiz. There were no right answers.

Z: Yes, there were, and I got them all. Gold star, babe.

She: You can’t turn this into a competitive thing.

Z: You’re just saying that ‘cause you got some wrong. Did you get any matches?

She: They matched me with a guy who says he’s fun and goofy and thinks he’s handsome. He owns a winery in the Santa Ynez Valley and his spelling was decent. None of the other guys they matched me with could spell at all.

Z: What a bunch of moorons.

She: How about you?

Z: I got matched with some woman in Santa Barbara who’s a writer, has a child and was looking to see if Chemistry.com could validate her mating selection of 20 years.

She: You got me! I knew it!

Z: Yeah, yeah. The thing that kills me is that you put down that you were single and had never been married. I at least had the decency to have you killed off and claim I was a widower.

She: I knew it. You try to hide it, but I know what a romantic you are. You can’t even think of other women unless you imagine I’m dead.

Z: Yes, dear.

Anyone else try Chemistry.com? Send your stories to Leslie Dinaberg and Zak Klobucher at leslie@lesliedinaberg.com.