Tanya was incredibly tired. She had been on her own for six years now since her husband left. Her daughter had gotten married a year ago and moved to another city.
At forty-two, Tanya was at a great age for a woman. It was like a second youth. Tanya was a homemaker, a fantastic cook, and her pickled cucumbers and tomatoes were considered masterpieces by everyone. But now, who would she make them for? Her balcony was already lined with idle jars.
“I can’t just waste away all alone, when I look this good!” Tanya would tell her friends. They would say, “No way! Start looking for a husband! There are plenty of single men out there.” One of them suggested to Tanya an agency called “Perfect Match.” Tanya thought it sounded a bit absurd and pathetic to use an agency, but at the same time, the number forty-two was bothering her. The old grandfather clock ticked away the passing time with a disconcerting sound.
So, Tanya went to the agency. A friendly woman with red glasses greeted her and said, “We really do have the best options. Let’s take a look at our database together. Have a seat!”
“They all look like heartthrobs,” Tanya smirked. “But how do you really get to know someone? How do you know he’s the one?”
“We’ve got that covered,” the woman replied. “We offer a trial week. It’s enough time to see if he’s your match or if you should keep looking.”
“A week with who?” Tanya inquired.
“With a man!”
“How does that work?”
“Well, he lives with you for a week. Look, we’re not shy here; we get right to the point. We screen for safety too; no maniacs or madmen.”
Tanya found herself getting excited by the idea. She and the woman in the red glasses picked out five candidates. Tanya paid a nominal fee and hurried back home. The first candidate was scheduled to arrive that evening.
Tanya donned a green dress—the color of hope—and put on earrings with diamonds that she seldom took out of her old jewelry box.
Ding-dong! The doorbell rang. Tanya peeked through the peephole and saw roses, letting out a small squeal of delight. She opened the door to a man as polished as in his photos.
They sat at the table, and Tanya had prepared a spread. She placed the bouquet in the center of the table. As she discreetly admired her charming guest, she thought, “This is it! No need to meet anyone else!”
They started on the salad. Her potential future husband grimaced, “Why so much salt?” Tanya awkwardly smiled and served him roasted duck. He chewed a piece and said, “A bit tough.” He didn’t like anything on the table. In the midst of the commotion, Tanya forgot the wine she had carefully selected. Pouring it, she toasted, “Here’s to new beginnings!” He sniffed the glass, took a sip, and sneered, “Cheap stuff.” He got up and said, “Now, let me see what your home looks like…”
Tanya picked up the bouquet and handed it to him, “I don’t even like roses. Goodbye.”
That night, Tanya shed a few tears, feeling hurt. But four more introductions awaited her.
Her second suitor arrived the following evening, casually sauntering in. “Hey there!” He reeked of whiskey. Tanya asked, “Did you start celebrating our meeting without me?” He chuckled, “Oh, come on! Let’s watch the game? Arsenal-Chelsea is on, and we can chat during halftime.” Tanya sharply replied, “You can watch TV at your place.”
Once again, she cried alone that night.
Two days later, the third man arrived. He was no looker, wearing an old coat with dirty nails and muddy shoes. Tanya wanted to politely send him away, but decided to at least feed him first. He ate quickly and praised Tanya’s cooking profusely, which embarrassed her. She brought out her pickles. “Wow!” exclaimed the not-so-handsome man. “These are the best I’ve ever had!”
Then the grandfather clock chimed. He listened intently, “What’s that creaky sound?” He went over to it, stood on a stool, and examined it, “I can fix this in no time! Got any tools?”
Soon enough, the clock was chiming smoothly and clearly, bringing Tanya joy with its gentle sound. She took it as a sign. Surely, this man was meant to be her husband. Handy and admirable—she could overlook disheveled nails and muddy shoes. After all, he was the third candidate, and three was her lucky number.
The night was approaching. Tanya was prepared: she visited the beauty salon and layered the bed with sheets emblazoned with large roses (which she secretly adored). When she emerged from the bathroom, her guest was already dozing off, fully clothed. This didn’t bother Tanya. She watched him sleep tenderly, “Poor thing, he’s just tired.” She gently cozied up next to him under the covers.
Then the nightmare began. This handyman started snoring with unmatched intensity. Tanya tried covering her head, then his, flipping his body—nothing worked. She didn’t sleep a wink and endured the whole night.
By morning, her guest ambled into the kitchen where a gloomy Tanya sat, “So, how about I bring my stuff over tonight?”
Tanya shook her head, “No, I’m sorry. You’re a great guy, but… No!”
The fourth man, a bearded fellow, reminded Tanya of a hero from an old wilderness exploration film. She even allowed him to smoke in the kitchen. The bearded man took a drag and said, “Tanya, we need to set things straight. I’m a free man. I love fishing, hanging out with friends, and I hate being nagged with ‘where are you?’ phone calls. Got it?”
Tanya watched him flick ash into her orchid pot and asked, “And you probably chase after other women too, right?” The bearded man grinned, “Why not? Like I said—freedom! It’s normal for a guy.”
After he left, Tanya aired out the kitchen for a long time. Her head throbbed, she felt utterly drained, like she’d bled out three pints. She didn’t even bother with the dirty crockery.
The next morning, Tanya woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains and cheerful sparrows chirping. She suddenly realized she felt wonderful. It was Saturday. She wasn’t in a rush—no one to interrupt her peace of mind. No one to nag, rustle about, or snore. The dishes? They could wait. Peace and freedom.
Just then, the phone rang. “Tanya, this is the Perfect Match agency. You have another candidate today, remember? He’s fantastic; he’s sure to be the one!”
Tanya plopped down the phone, shouting, “Take me off your list! Remove my name from the database! No more! The perfect husband is, truly, the one who doesn’t exist!”
Bursting into laughter, she flung open the curtains wide.
