The Journal of Zachariah Switch

Why I'll Never Marry [Part 2]

A few weeks prior to meeting Leslie I was featured in Servosa News as Region Six’s most eligible bachelor in an annual puff piece by its incepted editor. I’d met him at a gala that the news staff had thrown in honor of themselves at the CenterStar hotel during my brief term as senior manager. While drooling over me, he mentioned that they still needed Six’s slot filled for the piece. Given my financial comfort supplied by familial money, and undeniable good looks, he didn’t take long to ask if I would be interested in filling the slot. I waved him off, giving him my consent. I’d never read his rag, and with the advent of the new T-phone, supplied by the temples, I doubt it will be around much longer.





The article turned out to be more of a personal ad than anything. It listed my likes and dislikes, stats, etc. etc. I don’t recall having been interviewed, but I had been drinking during their little gala, so I must have divulged the information to one of his reporter minions. The day the article hit the streets was coincidently the same day it seemed every one of my friends and family became literate. There was no shortage of mirth at the expense of my credibility.





Initially I was annoyed by the attention that the article had drawn to me, but it turned out be a boon for my sex life. It also created a mild aura of celebrity, which was something that I turned out liking—a lot. While I’ve never had to worry about money, it had never bought me fame. I now understand why play actors put themselves through the hell of traveling around from region to region performing for what’s got to be not enough vin.





It seems that most people have short memories. By the time that I met Leslie, people no longer recognized me. When I introduced myself, it didn’t occur to me that she might be a fame f***er. I never have trouble meeting women, but meeting her was easier than normal. I must’ve been too drunk at the time to notice all of the signs that she had read the article and had obviously been stalking me since. She was wearing my favorite color, she had my favorite drink, and I think, when I introduced myself, she might have said, “I know”.





When we slept together that night, she was eager to please (and very good at it). Because of that, when she gave me her number, I didn’t throw it out. We continued to meet up at least twice a week. It didn’t occur to me that she might consider our physical relationship as something more. Maybe that’s all couples are; people who f*** repeatedly. Either way, I won’t make that mistake again.