Chapter 7 — Matchmaker (Algorithms & Antlers)
Ted Mosby believed love could be calculated.
Barney Stinson believed love could be manipulated.
And Ivar Scherbatsky? He believed love was a star chart, not a spreadsheet — and he had the survival scars to prove it.
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MacLaren's Booth
Barney slapped down a glossy brochure.
"Gentlemen, behold — Love Solutions. The premier matchmaking service in New York. Science meets seduction. Algorithms meet destiny."
Marshall squinted. "You mean like… eHarmony?"
"Better," Barney said. "This is where high-class women go when they're tired of swiping and ready for Barney Stinson."
Ted's eyes lit up. "Science… destiny… you know what? Maybe this is what I need. Maybe I'm done chasing fate. Maybe I need data."
Robin snorted into her scotch. "Because nothing says romance like a pie chart."
Ivar shut his Northern Star One with a click. "Algorithms are biased. Garbage in, garbage out."
Barney waved him off. "You're just jealous because you don't need help. Women fall into your lap like you're Canadian Clooney."
"Incorrect," Ivar said. "I'm Canadian Batman. And if you trust your heart to a spreadsheet, you deserve the villain it pairs you with."
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Love Solutions
The gang trooped into Love Solutions. Sleek office. Soft music. A woman in pearls promising romance like it was a brand-new car.
Barney immediately tried to flirt with her. Ted filled out the 200-question form.
"What's your favorite color?" Ted muttered.
"Blue," Marshall said.
"Green," Lily chimed.
"Red," Barney winked.
Ivar leaned over Ted's shoulder. "Trick question. Color preferences fluctuate with mood. They're measuring nonsense."
Robin elbowed him. "Let him have his placebo."
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The "Perfect Match"
Hours later, Ted sat in the booth at MacLaren's, glowing. "Guys — I got my results. They found her. My perfect match. 98% compatibility."
Lily clapped. "That's amazing!"
Marshall grinned. "See? Math can be romantic."
Ivar leaned back. "Or she's a statistical ghost. Did you meet her?"
Ted faltered. "Well… no. She's married. But—"
Ivar raised an eyebrow. "So your perfect match exists only as a spreadsheet footnote. Congratulations. You're in love with Excel."
Barney cackled. "He Mosby'd a database!"
Robin smirked. "You're unbelievable, Ted."
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Running Gag: Northern Star vs. Love Solutions
Later that night, Ivar pulled out his Titan Pro laptop, casually running an in-house Northern Star AI demo.
Barney squinted. "What is that?"
"Prototype matching software," Ivar said. "Runs off real behavioral data instead of self-report bias."
"Translation?" Robin asked.
"Instead of asking people if they like dogs, it checks if they actually pet dogs in public. Algorithms shouldn't care what we say, only what we do."
Ted rolled his eyes. "So what, you've invented love?"
"No," Ivar said. "I've invented accuracy. Love's still your problem."
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Chapter Closing Beat
By the end of the night, Ted was once again alone, clinging to the idea that science had a soulmate waiting for him out there.
Barney left with a number scrawled on his tie.
Marshall and Lily bickered over whether soulmates were real.
Robin teased Ted mercilessly.
And Ivar? He slipped out into the New York night, his phone buzzing with a Northern Star system alert. Another line of code tested. Another product refined.
Because while Ted Mosby searched for the perfect match, Ivar Scherbatsky was busy perfecting everything else.