Hello Anna, I came across your profile and thought you would make a great companion for me…

I sounded like an idiot, and I made her seem like a dog – double whammy if you ask me. My fingers stopped moving as I stared at the picture in front of me, laughing at my stupidity as I erased the message. She entranced me with her bright red lips and complementary red hair. The white dress she wore was a perfect match for her skin tone, and I found myself burning a hole with my eyes in the middle of my computer screen. A smile crossed my face as I imagined her on the cover of a magazine, the place where she seemed to rightfully belong.

“Let’s try this again,” I muttered under my breath.

Hello Anna. You look lovely. I would love to meet you!

I stared at the message for what felt like too long and finally hit send. I continued searching the site, but I also watched the notifications for a response. I knew her profile was new, and not because the status said online meant she was sitting in front of the computer. It was early so maybe she was getting ready for work, and she just left the machine running. Or maybe she was using her phone? There were too many possibilities, but I might as well get on with my day while I waited.

I don’t even know how I got here. One minute I was up and checking pictures, and the next I was thinking about giving up. By the time I had gone to bed, she was out of sight, out of mind. Until I woke up, and she returned, her image more potent in my mind than when I first saw it. I wandered to the office, and as soon as I turned on the machine, there she was. In my hurry, I had let the computer go to sleep, so she greeted me first thing that morning. I tried to ignore her, but I sat and sent a simple ‘hello’ before I changed my mind yet again.

Hi Raymond. How are you? Are you for real?

I fell into the chair. That wasn’t the response I’d hoped to get. I read her profile again and saw what she professed to be before I answered.

Yes, I am serious. There are a few other women I hope to meet as well. I’d like you to be one of them if you aren’t too busy with business.

I waited again. Her response came back almost immediately.

No, I’m not too busy.

And that was all. She didn’t say much, so I thought to do the most natural thing: look her up online. She called herself Anna Bolton, but when I checked the other Anna Boltons that filled the screen, none of the images resembled her. There was nothing about her anywhere. My only other option was to ask.

So, tell me, what sort of business are you into?

There was a moment’s pause before I saw that she was typing her response:

Fashion and real estate.

Based on the few words, she didn’t come off as someone from the fashion industry. The women I’d met were vain, condescending, and self-righteous. This Anna seemed different, and she intrigued me even further. I was about to ask another question when the thought occurred to me that it would be better if I did pre-interviews over the phone. I was skeptical of the woman who would share so much of my life, and I didn’t want to be under further scrutiny by my all-seeing, ever-judging mother. I wouldn’t include her in the process right away but after I had already chosen.

Would it be okay if I called you?

In a few moments, she sent her phone number, and like all the other times when I’d prepared for a business meeting, I slipped into my business mode.

Her voice was low and timid when she responded. This was new to me too, but luckily for me, there were no emotions involved.

“I’m sorry for calling you this early, but I didn’t expect you to reply yet. I imagine you are busy getting ready for work.”

“Yes, yes!” she replied hastily. “But that’s okay. I was surprised when I saw the message.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m rushing this by asking for your number, but I always prefer direct conversations.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. If I had a problem, I could have said no, right?”

I rubbed the back of my head. “I guess you could.”

What took me off my guard was that her voice was nothing like the image I was staring at. I had expected her to be stiff, formal, and business-like. Instead, she had an air of playfulness about her and a kind of childlike innocence. She pulled me in the longer she spoke, although she revealed nothing further than what I’d read.

“So, how does this work?” she asked eventually. “I’m not familiar with this process. It’s my first time.”

“I don’t know either. I recently came across the site and thought I’d take a stab at it,” I told her and rocked back in the chair as I grew comfortable. “I didn’t think much would come of it.” Silence. “But I had nothing to lose, right?”

I was tripping over my words and frustrating myself. Why was I behaving like a schoolboy? This is just business, I reminded myself.

“Right. So, tell me a little more about you,” she said faintly.

“I will, but not yet. Like I said, I will be interviewing other women as well. As a matter of fact, I think I should arrange a ‘viewing’ of sorts, so I can meet the women face to face. Then, I’ll make my choice, so whatever you want to know, you can find out when we meet.”

“Okay.”

I wanted to know what she was thinking. “Are you uncomfortable with this process?” I probed.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be here,” she replied, sounding sultry suddenly. Or was that my mind playing tricks on me?

“Right. So, I’ll be at the Colonial Regent Hotel next Tuesday until five.” I hadn’t arranged it beforehand, but I could get an opening there. My family had made so many sizable donations I was almost a part owner.

“Where do I find that?” she asked timidly.

Again, I was caught off-guard. How could she be a fashion designer and not know where the Colonial Regent was? Many shows were held there in any given year. “You don’t know where it is?”

“Where—what…oh, sorry, I lost my train of thought. Yes, I do know,” she quipped and cleared her throat. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay, good. I look forward to meeting you.”

“Me too.”

We hung up, but she had left her mark on me. The process I had started of initiating messages that led to phone calls took me well into the morning, and before I knew it, it was almost ten. Some women asked for my number first; those were the ones I didn’t give any information about the screening at the hotel. A few proposed. But of all the women I spoke with that morning, Anna was the only one I thought about.

And she stayed with me throughout the day, plaguing my mind and drumming up fantastic images of a life I could only imagine at the moment. When I returned home that evening, I navigated to the site and favorited a handful of other women. At the end of the day I had about twenty prospective brides but felt a tinge of excitement for only one.