Irony

I am posting an ad on the internet, trying to manifest the perfect person that I want to hang out with in this city. I picture it going out into the world, floating through the air on wifi signals, and bumping them in the head. Then they pick up their phone and call me. Yes, that’s how it’ll be. I hit post on the ad.

My phone rings.

Gosh, that was fast.

“Hello?”

“Hi, do you do residential house cleaning?” It’s a woman and she sounds mean. She’s probably like 2000 miles behind me too.

“What?” I ask, feigning innocence. I bet she’s some kind of fake dyke vice cop.

“Do you do house cleaning?”

“No. I think you have the wrong number.”

Later, I’m sitting in the park with Bro, playing the dulcimer and singing “this land is your land, this land is my land…” when the phone rings again. I know it’s gotta be my new soulmate-of-the-week, so I answer it without looking.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I called earlier about the cleaning.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Look, I found your number in my husbands wallet. He said you’re a house cleaner and he was going to have the house cleaned. Micheal Smith? Do you know him?” Oh, Goddess, what am I supposed to say? Look, your husband wanted to watch me clean your house in a little skirt and fishnet stockings. He probably didn’t want to fuck me, just to get excited by me. But it never happened, because I thought he was rude on the phone and hung up on him, so if he’s as rude to you as he is to strange women on the phone I think you should definitely leave him.

Yeah, right.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know him?”

“No. I mean, what area code are you calling from? I’m in Alaska. How would I know some guy from wherever you are?”

“Okay. Well, I’m sorry I keep bothering you.”

There’s a click and she’s gone from my life. I hope she leaves him.