An Elegant Solution: Arranged Marriage Romance Read online

  "It's not the lifestyle," I point out to Jeremy, "it's the woman. She's not the right one, you know?"

  "Then you need to break up with her. Tell her you're a dumbass and that she can do a helluva lot better-- you know, the truth." Jeremy tips his beer can toward me in a toast.

  I can't argue with him. I am a dumbass and Sandra could do better than the likes of me. Thing is, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to convince her of that.

  "You're not helping me," I slump back in my chair and rub my eyes, "I need a low drama solution here."

  Jeremy's laugh booms through the apartment, "Oh brother, you are way past 'low drama' here. And let me tell you, Mikey, you deserve all the drama you get on this one."

  "Thanks. I knew I called the right guy to help me out here," I say sarcastically.

  "Too bad you're not actually married," Jeremy says dismissively as he gets up and puts his can in the recycles, "or too bad you don't have a fake wife to kick your fake fiance's ass."

  Jeremy's picking up his things and checking his phone, "OK, Kristie's downstairs with the kids, man, I gotta go."

  My sister in law got wise to our shenanigans early on. Her folks live close by so she and Jeremy make a family trip out of it most of the time. Makes me feel better about putting more than a couple of samples in front of him, knowing Kris'll will be by to drive him back.

  "I think we're just back to where we began," he tells me at the door, "you need a wife. Someone with a head as thick as yours. Maybe this Sandra chick isn't the right one, but maybe it's time you started looking for the girl that is?"

  Jeremy pats me on the back in a half hug and jogs down the stairs.

  Closing the door behind him I walk out on the balcony and wave down at my sister in law. The kids wave up at me enthusiastically from their car seats in the back and then Kristie looks up and gives me a wave and a smile as Jeremy climbs in the passenger side.

  The first thing he does is kiss his wife and then he turns and gives his kids each a playful squeeze before he buckles his seat belt and I watch the happy family in the sedan pull away from the curb and disappear down the street.

  Jeremy's right. Pretending to be engaged to Sandra was a dumbass move, but not because I should have seen the signs that Sandra was going to take it too seriously.

  It was a dumbass move because I didn't see the signs that I was.

  My brother's right.

  I need a wife.

  Alicia

  This questionnaire from the match maker is ridiculous. I can't believe I'm supposed to hand write all this out. Not to mention the questions that are on this thing.

  I reach for the gin and tonic I poured an hour ago and turn another page.

  A long time ago, back in high school, I went to a slumber party and I remember one of the girls asked if we'd ever taken a purity test. No one knew what the fuck she was talking about back then, so she got online and found one.

  The thing was a thousand questions long and asked everything from if you were a virgin to if you'd ever killed someone. Crazy shit.

  The more things you'd done, the lower your score got and the less "pure" you were.

  Of course, when I was 17, I'd done almost nothing and I think I ended up with a score of like 947. I remember Wyndy Arnelle was the lowest score but mostly because she'd had sex with more than one guy...but not at a time.

  Raven Swann's compatibility questionnaire reminds me of that purity test. Only three times as long. It's going to take me a week to work through all these questions.

  That's a lot of effort for something I don't plan on going through with.

  After downing half my cocktail and setting the tumbler back on the table, I grab a pen and start answering questions. Maybe I'm a sucker for a good quiz or maybe I'm dying of curiosity, but I just can't help myself.

  By the time I finish my drink I'm several pages in and starting to wonder more about this Raven woman who needs to know, quite frankly, more personal information about me than I'm usually comfortable admitting to myself.

  So I start sifting through the rest of the paperwork in the packet and finally break down and look up her website.

  First and foremost, Raven Swann is not the slightly frumpy, middle aged, new age hippy chick that I was envisioning. She's a stunning woman with a mysterious, exotic quality to her. Between her bone structure, her warm olive skin, and the striking red hair that I'm pretty sure is natural, it's hard to get a feel for any specific race or heritage.

  One thing Ms. Swann is not is frumpy.

  The website offers an in depth biography on Raven, explaining how she made her first match when she was just 16 and that she has been responsible for dozens of successful love stories before she decided to offer her talents professionally.

  There's a page dedicated to her own love story that shows several pictures of Raven wearing that elusive kind of genuine happiness that is what drives people to seek out things like a professional match maker in the modern age.

  She has a husband named Duncan, 4 children, 2 rescue dogs and a bearded dragon-- which she says belongs to the kids.

  The way she and her husband are looking at each other in the pictures on the site makes something inside me twist a little. That's the kind of love you can't fake. These aren't staged photos, and they aren't stock photographs of models portraying a happy family.

  This is the real thing.

  And so are the photos in gallery after gallery of couples that are together because of Raven. Photos of weddings and houses and holidays and growing families and glowing emails that these people have sent to Raven, thanking her for sharing her gifts and for helping them find their happily ever after.

  I'm not crying, I tell myself as I sniffle after finishing an email from a 74 year old man who found the second love of his life through Raven after being widowed several years before.

  The stories are all inspiring. Some of them are touching, deeply emotional and worthy of their own Hallmark movie. Some of them are light-hearted, fun, filled with humor. Some of them have an almost otherworldly quality to them that make goosebumps rise up along my arms at the uncanny coincidences and unseen forces that seem to play a part in them.

  All of them leave me feeling uncomfortably alone in an apartment that suddenly seems very empty.

  Of course I want to fall in love-- someday, I think in an absurdly defensive inner monologue. It's just human nature, I reason further as I scroll through photos, people naturally want to pair up. We want to form pair bonds with our mates and raise our children together.

  It only makes sense that looking at all these photos and reading the stories would get to me. It doesn't change the fact that I'm not looking for a husband of my own. Not yet anyway. Maybe not ever. Sure, I hope to meet the right man someday. I hope to find someone who looks at me the way the man in this photo is looking at his wife. Like she's the only woman in the world.

  I just don't know if that needs to involve wedding bells and baby booties.

  And it sure as hell doesn't need to happen any time soon.

  I'm happy with my life the way it is. I'm establishing a design business here in the city and that takes a lot of hard work and dedication that means I don't have time to give to a relationship. I don't have time to go out on a bunch of dates with a bunch of strangers from some dating app just to waste time being reminded that I would have spent my time better by staying home and jabbing needles in my eyes.

  Or letting friends set me up with their husbands' friends or coworkers and then giving me the third degree about why I didn't call them back.

  Sure, my friends are all starting to settle down and start families. In the last 3 years I've been in 7 weddings and have gone to 9 baby showers.

  It's getting hard to find someone who's available to go out on a Friday night. No one wants to go out for drinks after work anymore-- they all have reasons to go home right away.

  All that has nothing to do with me, though. It doesn't affect my life. It doesn't make me feel left
behind or left out.

  Just like all these happy couples on Raven's website don't really get to me, and reading the rest of the information doesn't get inside my brain and get me to wondering if maybe this Raven could streamline the process of finding Mr. Right.

  Maybe there is a man out there that's right for me. That will support my career instead of being threatened by or jealous of it. Someone who encourages my success instead of sulking when it takes my attentions off of him.

  That's been a big problem with the guys I've dated so far-- even the guys I wasn't serious about. We won't even talk about the couple of actual boyfriends that couldn't handle sharing my attention with my business.

  What would it be like to find a man who actually took pride in my accomplishments?

  That's not what I'm thinking about at all when I find the log in information amongst the paperwork that Aunt Vera handed me that gives me access to my own client profile on Raven's site where I can fill out this information online.

  I'm not wondering if there's any hope that my personal concept of happily ever after might actually be possible as I send an email to Raven explaining who I am and that I'd like to talk to her personally regarding "my" application.

  That's not what I'm thinking about at all.

  The last thing I'm looking for is a husband and Raven Swann doesn't deal in "maybe ever afters."

  Michael

  I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, I'm just dicking around on my phone in the back room at work. I guess I started off on Tinder, looking for something to do after work tonight and maybe something to keep my mind off the inevitable showdown with Sandra.

  After an unusual number of left swipes I got bored. I moved on to some of the other sites and then, just for shits and giggles, I started looking up the sites that are for people who are serious. A bunch of stuff showed up but it's all the same old crap.

  Psychobabble about the "science" of compatibility and how this is the site that's going to find me my perfect mate. All I gotta do is sign up, fill out their "specialized personality profile" that's been lovingly designed by a hand selected panel of neuro-psychologists, "relationship engineers," and maybe a Bonobo or two.

  I read through a couple of sites that all say the same thing before I come to my senses.

  What the fuck am I doing? Looking up a bunch of match making websites like a lovesick teenager. Shit. This stuff is all a bunch of crap profiting off of peoples' desperation for love.

  I start closing down tabs in my phone's browser and end up back on the original page of search results. I'm just about to close that too when something catches my eye.

  I'm not sure why, but my thumb hits one of the results and opens up a site I've never heard of before.

  At first I don't really see why this Raven chick showed up in a search for finding a wife, it looks like just another blog site-- a really nicely organized blog maybe, but it's a lot of info about this Raven woman.

  She's hot, that's for sure. Really put together, classy looking lady, and my first thought is maybe she's looking for a husband. Then I realize she's a match maker.

  She calls herself a "marriage broker" but as far as I can tell, that's a fancy way of saying "match maker."

  I read through her website for awhile before they're calling me back to work and I bookmark the site before slipping my phone back in my pocket and heading up front.

  After work I find myself back at home, reading through the rest of Raven's site. She's more than just a match maker-- she oversees arranged marriages.

  It's a hell of a process to get signed up with her. A long application process and you're not even guaranteed to be accepted as a client. Plus, she only discusses price in a personal consultation that doesn't get scheduled until after she's reviewed your application.

  I read through all the the details of her process and I don't know if I'm impressed or a little freaked out.

  This is nothing like any dating site I've ever heard of. Not only do I have to wait and see if she'll even accept my application, there's a detailed personal questionnaire to fill out and it comes with a disclaimer that the questions are extremely personal and may be considered invasive or even offensive by some people.

  The disclaimer is probably what does it. At least, that's what I tell myself when I start filling out the initial application. I'm not seriously signing up to get on Raven's client list. The woman deals in marriage, for crying out loud! I'm not that serious about getting hitched, not yet. I just want to see this questionnaire that's so "invasive" that it might "offend" me and needs a fucking disclaimer.

  Just the application is a pain in my ass. In addition to all the obvious stuff, I have to explain my reasons for applying. I'm pretty sure telling her I just want to see the questions isn't going to win her over so I sit my ass down and start working on my answer.

  I've been working on it for almost an hour when Sandra's name lights up my phone. Getting pulled out of my essay to Raven startles me and I stare at the name for a long moment, deciding what to do.

  One thing I know, I can't put it off. Especially after spending the last hour answering questions about why I'm looking for a wife. I hadn't realized I was taking it so seriously until I see Sandra's incoming call, but suddenly it hits me.

  I'm applying to a professional matchmaker to find me a wife.

  I hit answer on the phone and bring it to my ear, ready to explain to Sandra why we aren't a real couple and why we won't be going through with a wedding that was never supposed to happen.

  "Hey," I answer.

  "Mike, we need to talk about this wedding," Sandra launches straight to the point. Her point, anyway.

  I don't remember her voice sounding so reedy. An underlying hint of manic combined with a breathy quality that doesn't sound entirely sincere.

  "Yeah, you're right, Sandy." I think my own voice sounds tight and irritated but she doesn't seem to notice.

  "Look," now she sounds a little hesitant, "I like you a lot, right?"

  I sit up straighter in my chair, this doesn't sound like the usual wedding planning call.

  "Uh, yeah, sure, I mean...I like you too," I say cautiously.

  "Yeah Mike, well, the thing is, this was supposed to be a joke, you know? Just to get my folks off my back for awhile."

  "Yeah, Sandy, I know, that's what I've been saying."

  I hear a dramatic sigh on the other end of the line, "Yeah well, it kinda got out of control and I just think we need to drop it, you know?"

  This isn't the way I expected this conversation to go, "You mean like...your folks don't expect us to get married anymore?" Damn, this feels dangerous. I'm not sure exactly how to respond.

  "Um, no. I told them we broke it off," she tells me. "Thing is, Michael, things kinda got serious with somebody I've been seeing for awhile now."

  Seeing for awhile? I do some quick math in my head, ticking off the calendar pages that I've turned since we started our fake engagement. I mean, I know we were never serious, it's not like we ever had any agreements, or commitments or anything but I guess I did kinda think that we weren't seeing other people when her entire family thought we were getting married.

  "Oh, well that's cool, Sandra," I tell her, noticing my voice sounds far away and a little strangled now.

  "Oh gosh, Michael! You're gonna be OK, right? I mean, it's not like we were ever a real couple or anything, right?" She laughs and the manic gets a little stronger, "I mean, come on, it's not like you ever stopped seeing all your other girls, right?"

  Another shrill laugh that feels suspiciously like a punch in the nuts as I realize what's happening here.

  Holy shit.

  She's breaking up with me.

  She's not just calling to let me know that the charade is off-- which should feel like a huge weight off my shoulders. It doesn't. It hurts. A lot more than I expected. Not that the whole bullshit engagement is over, but that it's over because she got into something better.

  Fuck. She found something b
etter. She found something better because she wasn't even pretending to be committed to me and now she's telling me she doesn't think I'm even capable of making a commitment.

  "Like Michael Boyd has ever been monogamous in his life, right?" Now her voice is filled with humor, like we're old buddies. "So, anyway, I just wanted to let you know. I can drop off the stuff you left over here on my way home from work tomorrow if that works for you?"

  "Yeah," I snap out of the unexpected sucker punch, "you can just leave it on the doorstep, I probably won't be here when you stop by you know."

  Sandra laughs. A genuine, if slightly relieved, laugh that tells me she's satisfied that she hasn't just broken my heart and that everything is par for the course for Michael Boyd.

  "No problem, Mike. It was fun for a minute, you know."

  And then she's off the phone and I know I won't be hearing from her again.

  Shit. Is that what women think of me? That I'm such a player that I can't even be faithful for a few weeks?

  I look back at Raven Swann's application, still open with my answer where I left off.

  A week ago, Sandra had me convinced that she was hellbent on dragging me to the altar and I was worried about breaking her heart. Tonight she's calling it off because she tells me she realizes that I'm never going to be able to settle for just one woman.

  It might have been fake, but I really didn't go on a single date while we were in it. I didn't take a single phone number, I didn't open a single dating app.

  Monogamy's easy. It's been easy with every girl I've ever dated seriously. I guess I just haven't had a lot of reasons to take anyone seriously lately.

  I turn my attention back to Raven's application and start backspacing.

  Then I start over.

  Alicia

  It's been months since Mom and Vera hit me with the surprise "gift" of an arranged marriage. In fact, I'd forgotten all about Raven Swann until I got her voicemail this morning.