There could be hundreds of men looking for a wife in locations suited to biological observation and experimentation. I could be back in the field. The reports could be mine. I could escape this sleek office. Not that I’m guaranteed to find a husband.
It couldn’t hurt to look.
Two days later my background check, and identity verification came back clean clearing me to use the site. The questionnaire I fill out that night is thorough. From questions about my profession to my ideal family life. By the time I’m done I feel like I’ve poured my soul into their database.
It’s another day before the proposals come in. Men who have viewed my profile and thought we might be a good fit. Most haven’t even messaged me. More than ten men have taken one look at me and decided I would make a fine wife all without a word spoken between us. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Theapp has a messaging function, but mail order bride is in the title and traditionally they meet their husbands for the first time on their wedding day.
It’s efficient. No need for small talk. If there is attraction and respect two adults can make a marriage work. I can appreciate that.
The first match is a medical doctor living out in a rural Kansas community. Kansas could be a lovely place to live but I know that kind of career is stressful and time consuming. If I’m going to marry, I want a husband who can be present in our daily life.
Next is a lifestyle influencer traveling cross-country in a van. No. Absolutely not. Hiking through the wilderness before eventually returning to a clean and spacious apartment is one thing. I’m not signing up for a 24/7 road trip that never ends.
I scroll by several more matches, dismissing them for one reason or another, before I find the one that catches my attention. Marshall Kent. His profile photo is from his military service, his age noticeably younger than the thirty-two listed in his bio.
With the first serious contender I find myself reaching for my yellow legal pad to begin a list of pros and cons. Cliché perhaps but effective.
This isn’t a love match. Surely an ex-Army Ranger will adopt a practical approach to marriage.
A pro if ever there was one. His profile is minimal, which isn’t ideal for a detailed analysis. I add it to the con side of my list.
Part of me can’t help but add another pro to the list.
He is awfully good looking.
I haven't cared about superficial vanity since my teenage years. And even then, I knew better. My hormones may have run rampant, but my brain was still in charge. Now my body is tingling with awareness over a simple photo. I’ve worked withhandsome men. Mingled at fundraisers with gorgeous models and CEO’s who look twenty years younger than their actual age.
He makes them look like boys playing dress up. He’s ruggedly masculine with stubble coating his square jaw and a glint in his eye that makes a hormone fueled primal part of my brain perk up.
I’ve always let logic lead the way, now I’m thinking it’s time to try something moreearthy.Sitting behind my desk staring at his profile I feel more feminine than I ever have in my life. For this man I feel a girlish impulse to preen and he’s not even in the room.
My cheeks heat with mild embarrassment. In school I never would have approached him. Men like him never look at women like me. Not when we bury our noses in books studying for our degrees rather than going to college parties that only serve to damage brain cells and curate bad decisions.
But he approached me.
Five more men also submitted a request to match with me. I don’t even care to look at them. My brain is screaming that I should evaluate and compare each profile and make a rational choice based on pros and cons. The truth is that I’ve already made my decision. My body made it the second I clicked on his profile.
Marshall Kent, prepare yourself.
It shouldn’t be so easy to fit my entire life and career into a box. I strip down my apartment with ruthless efficiency. My fiancé will already have furniture there’s no need for an extra couch or kitchen table.
When I informed the board about my marriage and pending move, I had my resignation drafted. My position was administrative, and I was to start fresh with a different company once I settled into my new home.
That proved unnecessary.
“He lives in the Viridian Mountains?” one board member asked.
“We can always use more soil samples,” another added.
“It’s such a remote range, with excellent forest conservation, the flora could be studied and compared to lab grown specimens.”
Suddenly our company is organizing a field lab. Equipment shipped and staff hired. My engagement announcement resulted in a new expedition. It’s not the board’s reaction that made me nervous. It was Melissa’s. The youngest in my field of study, I am no stranger to ridicule.
“You did it,” she says when I return to the office after meeting with the board. “You really did it.”
“I did.”
She stares at me with shock. The assistant gossip grapevine clearly supplied her with information that I don’t need to repeat. Perhaps she’s upset that she wasn’t the first to know.
