So, we finished up our advertures with Julia and her “date” with all her friends, we took a stiff drink and a long nap, and then we merrily got around to picking out our next Fortnightly Single.
We had received several inquiries in recent months, but only two folks had taken the time to write a short essay about themselves and send photos. (Several people seemingly got impeded by the requirement to write 300-400 words. Is it that hard, people? Well, maybe it is.)
The good news is that we really liked both of them. It was a tough call, but we picked one out. Our favorite line from her statement: “What’s worse than a well-designed pair of Brooks Brothers prescription frames complementing a beard and mustache? Nothing.”
Then we received the following email:
Disregard my fortnightly single “about me”. I met someone. Sorry for any inconvenience.
Sorry?! Is that all you can say? Here we are ready to set you up with the potential man of your dreams, and you… um… meet the potential man of your dreams. Or at least someone you’re dating seriously enough to not want to have them see you in the newspaper looking for a date.
Actually, we’re very happy for you.
Besides, we have another Fortnightly Single ready to go, so there’s no inconvenience at all.
(Cue the ominous foreshadowing music.)
So we contacted the other one, to let him know we wanted to run him this week. Our favorite line from his essay: “I’m sort of a cross between Richard Dawkins, Carry A. Nation, and a flightless island pigeon. But even sexier.”
Then (and you knew this was coming) we received the following email:
I’m sorry to say that I am no longer Single! And it’s all your fault. You see, when I was writing my awesome essay, I had some people look it over, including [a guy], a friend who was a few months out of a long-term relationship. Neither of us had any idea that the other had romantic capacity regarding the other, but after realizing I was on the market and what I was offering, [that guy] worked up the nerve to ask me if I was interested into entering romantic negotiations with him. Soon, we were writing up a Google Wave Relationship Constitution of reserved rights, concerns, and personal foibles, and we’ve been monogamously pairbonded ever since! Thank you, for that. I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you too badly!
Awww, that’s so sweet. And nerdy.
But again with the sorry. And again with the concern about inconvenience. What drives this strange concern about our convenience?
So we have no new Fortnightly Single for this issue. Alas, we are inconsolable. Actually, that’s not quite true. As we were frantically finishing up this issue, we reached an epiphany: this feature, this modest Fortnightly Single column, had truly achieved it’s purpose. Two people, alone with their dreams of romance or companionship or sex or whatever they might have been dreaming about, were inspired to send their signals out into the universe, where a fortunate and brave someone homed in on them.
The only downside is that we all didn’t have the chance to voyueristically hover around, writing (or reading) all the juicy, heartwarming, and/or embarrassing moments. Which sucks for us.
We’ll do our damndest to have a new Fortnightly Single next time. It could be you! Write in today! ◙