I've been in the rotation six times, and let me tell you this:
1 - you can't find your soul mate through a government-assigned pairing.
2 - no eighteen year old is very interested in finding their future spouse, so the likelihood is that I'll be in the pairing for another couple of years.
3 - thirty one days is not enough to tell whether or not you want to spend your life with someone.
Okay, so the thirty one says bit is a lie. It's more like however many days are in a month - in this case, July has thirty one days. So I have a month to woo whoever I've been paired with, reel them in and marry them. Easy.
Of course, no. The end goal isn't marriage, but it usually ends that way. In essence, the pairing scheme is there to increase the general population. After an outcry by the people (because forcing individuals together and taking away their right to choose is barbaric), the pairing scheme was made, so at least you're allowed to fall in love before you load up the oven. Some people had chosen the artificial insemination route - sperm donors and womb renters were allowed to find love their own way - but there was something intriguing about falling in love. And having a child without knowing who the father was was not part of the plan.
Day one - my seventh day one of many. I was given the phone number of Attempt Seven and a place to meet him.
Dear Miss Gray (ID 457, area code 56),
Your next match is ready.
Mobile number: 07675 *****
Meeting point: Armstrong's Cafe.
Time: July 1st, 4pm.
We wish you luck,
The Maine Pairing Team
Registered company under the 321 Act, copyright-
The worst thing was, these people usually lived nearby. Which meant I find myself avoiding any places I might bump into my failed pairings - namely places where Attempt Three usually rendezvous' to. I had isolated myself from the shops downtown, which were thankfully the ones that Vee and I were not committed to.
Okay, so things didn't go down well with Attempt Three. In all honesty, he was a creeper. I had managed to cut us off halfway through the month (under clause three, if one party felt vastly uncomfortable with their pairing, which I did, we retained the right to terminate the relation), but that didn't exactly stop him from seeking me out in the days following. He was harmless, but weird. I think he'd been in the system for too long.
So anyway, it was approaching 3:00pm and I was face-down on my bed adorning two towels - one for my brunette unruly hair, which would have to be blow dried, and the other for the rest of my body. Didn't stop the water from seeping into the mattress.
After a five minute buffer I dropped both the towels on the floor and brushed my hair. I could totally get away without blow drying it. Plus, this was Attempt Seven. Not that I believed in unlucky numbers, but seven was the least lucky if I was getting down to semantics, right?
A/N: soooo who wants more? Who wants less? Yay or nay for continuing? xoxoxxxxxxxxxxxxxx