Someone for everyone

I mention to Amber that, now that Kristina is single, I consider it my duty to play wingman. Kristina has rarely been single. She had been with the same man during our tenure as friends, or she had not been with him, but never with anyone else (she considered a few, but Kristina's sometimes-boyfriend personified a sunk cost). She existed in a superimposition of relational states.

Amber had always cautioned me to leave Kristina alone, mainly when it seemed years ago that she and Daniel might be kindling something more than friendship. This did not happen and, to my knowledge, she resumed some relationship with the sometimes-boyfriend. She rarely mentioned him and, in all this time, I have only met him once at a party.

I do not know and do not bother asking what the final straw was. There have been ponderous straws in the past they survived, possibly on momentum alone. The final moment could have been less a moment than an inevitability. Kristina finally became too worn out to try again.

There is no guarantee this breakup will stick, but it feels as though it might. Isn't that enough for my meddling? Amber crassly accuses that I am simply looking for a new topic to chronicle. The audacity. I would never.

Beautiful to someone

I do not have many single men in my retinue nor any who would seem like a suitable match. I don't know that I am pesky enough to try to befriend promising men with the subtle intention of auditioning them to kiss one of my best friends.

Kristina ranks as someone I love but, more than most, over whom I feel protective. I want to intervene to give her a better life, even if it is only cooking her a hot meal (not that I doubt her culinary prowess; if anything, she might be the superior cook). Having some part in bringing a healthy lover into her life is more significant than pan-seared salmon, but not too dissimilar in nourishment.

Since Amber needs to work, Kristina arrives to assist me at the Pine Bush UFO Fair. I offered to drive her, but the distance between Pine Bush and her home is not much greater than that to me. Also, her brother's girlfriend is due to give birth within a week, so she might need to vamoose early.

By the time she finds me, I have managed to erect the tent and put up the table on my own. She tries to help how she can, but I mostly tell her what Amber does and do it myself. She is there to keep me entertained until four, then, I hope, help me pack up before the police become irritated.

I told her that she was welcome to cosplay -- she is of late enamored of classic Star Trek -- but she only wears a t-shirt with one of the aliens on it, her hair in two dark ponytails that cascade down her back. I can't blame her for keeping her ensemble more subdued. I wear one of Danielle Draik's alien pins and a silver UFO medallion that my parents bought me in the late 1990s, which I have found few occasions to wear in decades. I've tried being conspicuously weird at these events. Those who approach my table are keen to talk about my outfit. They do not stick around to look at my books.

Love is out there

Though interrupted by both our independently walking away to gawk and shop, seven hours together should give ample opportunity to gently interrogate her about her life and what she is looking for in a man, but I do keep it light. She admits that the dating pool is not one in which she is keen to dip her toes. Fresh out of a relationship that has comprised her entire adult life, she may not be ready to consider concretely, though she is happy enough to talk about it. I confess that the only person I know who would be worthy of her bears the misfortune of also being a heterosexual woman.

I warned Kristina that people would, but the nature of the fair, say strange things. Still, she may not have been prepared when an older couple insists that they had just seen me interviewed on Ancient Aliens. I state that I do not think I was on there -- surely, someone would have warned me. They assure me that they remembered my name, which I do have to concede is memorable. All I can say is that I have been interviewed about UFOs before. It is in the realm of faint possibility that these interviews were used elsewhere, though I can't imagine why I would be worth the effort. Anything I said would have been a cute soundbite that would fall better from the lips of an author who doesn't write fantasy fiction.

Likely owing to COVID, the fair seems more sparsely attended for most of the event. Even if it did not, this would not be the best place to serve as a wingman for Kristina. The few who speak to her in my proximity are twice her age and more concerned with guessing the exact episode number that featured the creature on her shirt. People might have the unspoken assumption that a man and a woman under the same canvas roof are romantically entangled, so we can forgive anything worthwhile from not flirting.

Your true love may be in another universe

Though I am not actively looking for suitable men at the fair, I want to make my position clear to her. If such existed, it is too early to push her toward some handsome prospect, and she knows that Amber and I would move mountains to make her happy. When the time comes -- or a suitor appears -- it's best that she know that she has a team behind her.

Kristina and I are beside a rock vendor who keeps giving up massive discounts. In turn, I give her a copy of Pagan Standard Times. Kristina pokes about some crystals. The woman tells her to find the one that calls to her and then take it without charge. Kristina is charmed by this, as she should be. If only finding a man were this easy.

last watched: Lucifer
reading: Waypoint Kangaroo