apologized and said they could toss then again.”
“They didn’t agree to that. Because it’s bad luck!”
“Who says its bad luck?” I asked incredulous.
Amy shrugged her shoulders. She wore a vertical wavy line print pleated skirt with a silk pink tie and a simple black blouse with collar. “The Love Gods?”
“So my best friend who just got married—Cynthia, and Olivia, who wanted to catch the bouquet, said I had to at least entertain the thought for a year. If I didn’t get married after trying for a year, they’d leave me alone.”
Amy doubled over in laughter and almost bumped her knot on her forehead again. “That’s crazier than my love story.”
“Mine is not a love story. I have no intention of getting married this year.”
“You’re twenty-seven, Megan. It’s about that time.”
“No...It is not about that time,” I argued back. “So that’s why I call Steve Laferte the PR Man. I don’t intend to marry anyone ugly or handsome this year. All emotions are in check, under control.”
“That’s fair enough. You can say at least you tried.”
PR Man rushed out of the maze of hallways of Limber & Love. “Did Megan arrive—I was—there you are. I’m sorry for the delay. You’re about to go live,” and PR Man grabbed my hand and took me into the dark confusing maze of Limber & Love’s offices, dragging me into his office.
* * * *
“Sit.” PR Man walked round his desk quickly. He took another snap shot of me.
“Awwwww I wasn’t ready.”
“Spontaneous pictures are best. That’s how a talent scout finds supermodels and award-winning actors. Shopping at a mall. Eating an ice cream cone with a friend. Stuffing a taco in their face at a kiosk at lunch time.”
“How come I know Michelle is now looking at my picture; thinking of something crazy to do with it?”
“Maybe post cards or a triptych—three-sided two wings central display or we’ll slap an A-Board display of two sloping boards are joined at top, for you to walk around in the Lover’s Dance. The board will say, “Dance all you want, but this Lady is not getting married sooner or later.”
“A-Board—don’t they use those outside, not inside?”
“You can stand outside the Grantor Hall wearing it. But anyway I’ve have some words for your personal ad. I want to try them out on you.”
Comfortably seated I needed to confess. I crossed my legs. “I believe in personal ads, PR Man. They work. You’d be surprised at the oddballs who take the time to read them. I mean if the man reads, he might be perfect for me. An intellectual.”
PR man scanned eight neatly stacked papers on his desk. There were large placards, small scribbled notes from a yellow pad. Something that looked like a license plate. His face showed a slight frustration. Then his dark and handsome features lightened. He picked up the small piece of paper that had drifted off his large black desk.
“Hot Fertile woman, 27, one-time gold digger, now wants to settle down. Call—” and he rattled a phone number off.
I tried to swallow the fact that I was retired from prostitution. “Wait a minute, I’m not a hooker.”
“No, you’re not, but I’m not going to let you run away satisfied and married.” He stretched his arm out for me to look at the small ad. “This personal ad guarantees unlikable suitors for you. Suitors you can easily reject. I’m test marketing it on you.”
I liked the rejecting part. Strangely enough lying came with the hunting for a man. “How about this—Hot Fertile woman, 27, one-time major frog kisser, now wants to settle down. No frogs need respond. Call No More Frogs for single Woman in Joinrite City.”
PR Man settle back letting the phrase roll off his tongue. “One-time major frog kisser. I like it. That’s a good ad. But my concern is you want get enough variety to keep you amused while you’re looking. We don’t want to spend more than ten hours a week on answering ads. This Personal Ad will run
“They didn’t agree to that. Because it’s bad luck!”
“Who says its bad luck?” I asked incredulous.
Amy shrugged her shoulders. She wore a vertical wavy line print pleated skirt with a silk pink tie and a simple black blouse with collar. “The Love Gods?”
“So my best friend who just got married—Cynthia, and Olivia, who wanted to catch the bouquet, said I had to at least entertain the thought for a year. If I didn’t get married after trying for a year, they’d leave me alone.”
Amy doubled over in laughter and almost bumped her knot on her forehead again. “That’s crazier than my love story.”
“Mine is not a love story. I have no intention of getting married this year.”
“You’re twenty-seven, Megan. It’s about that time.”
“No...It is not about that time,” I argued back. “So that’s why I call Steve Laferte the PR Man. I don’t intend to marry anyone ugly or handsome this year. All emotions are in check, under control.”
“That’s fair enough. You can say at least you tried.”
PR Man rushed out of the maze of hallways of Limber & Love. “Did Megan arrive—I was—there you are. I’m sorry for the delay. You’re about to go live,” and PR Man grabbed my hand and took me into the dark confusing maze of Limber & Love’s offices, dragging me into his office.
* * * *
“Sit.” PR Man walked round his desk quickly. He took another snap shot of me.
“Awwwww I wasn’t ready.”
“Spontaneous pictures are best. That’s how a talent scout finds supermodels and award-winning actors. Shopping at a mall. Eating an ice cream cone with a friend. Stuffing a taco in their face at a kiosk at lunch time.”
“How come I know Michelle is now looking at my picture; thinking of something crazy to do with it?”
“Maybe post cards or a triptych—three-sided two wings central display or we’ll slap an A-Board display of two sloping boards are joined at top, for you to walk around in the Lover’s Dance. The board will say, “Dance all you want, but this Lady is not getting married sooner or later.”
“A-Board—don’t they use those outside, not inside?”
“You can stand outside the Grantor Hall wearing it. But anyway I’ve have some words for your personal ad. I want to try them out on you.”
Comfortably seated I needed to confess. I crossed my legs. “I believe in personal ads, PR Man. They work. You’d be surprised at the oddballs who take the time to read them. I mean if the man reads, he might be perfect for me. An intellectual.”
PR man scanned eight neatly stacked papers on his desk. There were large placards, small scribbled notes from a yellow pad. Something that looked like a license plate. His face showed a slight frustration. Then his dark and handsome features lightened. He picked up the small piece of paper that had drifted off his large black desk.
“Hot Fertile woman, 27, one-time gold digger, now wants to settle down. Call—” and he rattled a phone number off.
I tried to swallow the fact that I was retired from prostitution. “Wait a minute, I’m not a hooker.”
“No, you’re not, but I’m not going to let you run away satisfied and married.” He stretched his arm out for me to look at the small ad. “This personal ad guarantees unlikable suitors for you. Suitors you can easily reject. I’m test marketing it on you.”
I liked the rejecting part. Strangely enough lying came with the hunting for a man. “How about this—Hot Fertile woman, 27, one-time major frog kisser, now wants to settle down. No frogs need respond. Call No More Frogs for single Woman in Joinrite City.”
PR Man settle back letting the phrase roll off his tongue. “One-time major frog kisser. I like it. That’s a good ad. But my concern is you want get enough variety to keep you amused while you’re looking. We don’t want to spend more than ten hours a week on answering ads. This Personal Ad will run
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