“What, you got something better to do?”
“No,” I deadpan, running a hand over my face. “Definitely not. You’re not going to believe this, but I’m going to Montana tomorrow morning.”
“Montana?!” Sarah shrieks, and I hold the phone away from my ear, wincing. “What the hell are you going to do in Montana?”
I sigh. “Apparently, a man…”
I relay to her my grandparents’ crazy scheme. Sarah, as always, is the best audience, gasping and groaning in all the right places. When I’m finished with my tale of woe, there’s silence.
“Damn, Jen,” Sarah says finally, with a low whistle. “That’s some wild shit. I can’t get over the fact that mail-order brides are still a thing.”
“I know!” I yell, sitting up in bed. “Isn’t that the most outdated, patriarchal BS you’ve ever heard?”
“This is going to sound crazy,” Sarah says, “but maybe you should give it a chance.”
I stare at my phone for a second. Is my best friend being held at gunpoint, or did she just, of her own free will, tell me to give this ridiculous plan a chance?
“It honestly might be good for you,” Sarah continues when I’m unable to say anything. “I know how much you love us and the band, but I also know that you’ve been single for a while, and that you’re happiest when you’re in a relationship. You can pretend all you want that you’re gonna be single forever, but you shouldn’t be. You love making someone else happy. And you’ve told me before that you want to settle down and have kids someday.”
“I was drunk when I said that!” I protest.
“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” she replies in a solemn tone.
“Okay, whatever,” I mumble. “I just don’t know if this mail-order craziness is legit.”
“You should google the service,” Sarah says. Duh. I feel suddenly very stupid. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?
“That’s a good idea.”
“I know. I’m full of ‘em.”
“You’re full of it, that’s for sure.”
“Okay, I’m running out the door, but go and do some research on the company,” Sarah says. “Text me if you find anything juicy. If you decide you don’t want to go tomorrow, tell your grandparents I have a life-threatening illness and that you need to take me to the hospital right away. But if you do decide to go, then me all about the hottie you meet!”
“Okay, fine,” I say. “Love you, babe.”
“Love you too!”
She ends the call. I rub my palms over my eyes. Sarah knows me better than anyone else, and I trust her judgment. Maybe I should be giving this crazy idea more of a chance.
I grab my laptop, plop it down in front of me, and Google “Mail Order Brides for Christmas.” The site pops up immediately. I click the link, holding my breath, not sure what to expect. What if it’s full of pornographic pictures? What if it looks like a 12-year-old made the website? What if--most terrifying of all--it’s legit?
It’s legit.
The site looks well-made and professional, featuring a decorative banner at the top that proclaims “Mail-Order Brides for Christmas” in a swirling scarlet font. This is definitely a website for a legitimate business, not some skanky, seedy operation. A headshot of a smiling, pretty older woman is on the front page. The caption says that she’s Holly Huckleberry, the boss in charge of the whole operation. A knot of tension releases in my shoulders. The fact that it’s run by a woman instantly makes me less suspicious.
I continue to scroll through the website, reading testimonials from husbands and brides alike. “I met my dream man through Mail-Order Brides for Christmas!” one of them gushes. Another proclaims, “If you’re skeptical, give it a try! It just might change your life!” Photos of smiling couples dot the pages. Curious, I go to the “Bookings” page to see what kind of price this service costs, but it only directs interested viewers to contact Holly Huckleberry directly.
I gnaw my bottom lip. This really doesn’t seem so bad. My preconceived notions have all gone out the window. Sure, it could all be a scam, but if it is, it looks like a damn good one…
I navigate back to my original search. It looks like several blogs have also reviewed the service. I click through a few and they all present glowing reviews, using phrases like “best decision of my life” and “worth every penny.” I click my tongue and go back to Google. These all sound too good to be true, maybe even sponsored. I’m going to have to find some unbiased reviews somewhere.
Finally, I end up at Reddit, the mecca for honest thoughts and rants. I type “Mail-Order Brides for Christmas” into the search bar and am not disappointed. There’s an entire page dedicated to the site. Surely I’ll get some neutral reviews here.
But as I click through, I find more of the same, more “OMGs” and “I’m soooooo happy!” exhortations. Several women have linked their Instagram accounts, showing off endless photos of their gorgeous husbands and perfect lives. Well, damn. No one ever posts unanimously positive reviews on Reddit. This has to be the real deal.