Single Dad Seeks Juliet

He’ll freaking hate it at first…but he’ll thank me later, right?

Goodness, I hope so.

I turn back to the computer as he shuts the door and try really hard to focus. Hailie is right about one thing. There will probably be hundreds of entries, which means this thing is going to have to be good if he’s going to win.

Even the title needs work. Man Seeks Woman.

It’s so mundane. So regular. So blah.

I need a wow factor. Something that’ll hook everyone right from the start.

“We need a better title,” I tell Hailie. “Something that really grabs people.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off preemptively. “And it cannot have the words dick, cock, or penis in it.”

She frowns but laughs at the same time. “Don’t worry, Chlo. My vocabulary is bigger than that. And I’ve moved on from your dad’s dick—at least metaphorically speaking. In some sense, I feel I’ll never move on from your dad’s big, beautiful—”

I slug her in the shoulder, and she laughs.

“Fine. How about Single Dad Seeks Juliet?”

“Single dad? Should I really say that?”

She nods with wide, convinced eyes. “Oh yeah. That’s, like, at least fifteen percent of Jake’s hot factor.”

I groan. “You know I hate it when you call him Jake.”

“I could call him Daddy. But somehow, I thought you’d prefer this.”

“Forget it.” I cringe. “Let’s just get back to the ad.”

I turn back to the computer and start to type inside the personal ad template on my dad’s Bachelor Anonymous application.Single Dad Seeks Juliet.Yeah. That’s it. It’s got flair without being too ridiculous. I mean, it is for a contest being run by our local paper in which readers vote on the personal ad of their choosing to select an anonymous, unnamed bachelor who will be farmed out on several dates to find his Mrs. Right, so a certain amount of absurd is welcome—necessary, even—but I don’t want it to be too over the top. It should, at the very least, capture some sense of who my dad is as an actual person.

Fingers poised at the keyboard, I continue.At 40 years old, after almost eighteen years of raising my daughter on my own, I’m ready to find someone for myself. I’m loyal, passionate, grounded in reality, and looking for someone who can say the same. I’m looking for my Juliet—without the tragic ending. Sense of humor is an absolute must.Hailie looks over my shoulder, reading along with me as I type. When I get to the end, she whispers the addition of a finale so close to my ear, I squirm. “P.S. You’re beautiful. Yes, you.”

“What?”

“Talking to the reader always ups a feeling of engagement. That ad with that ending?” She shakes her head. “He can’t lose.”

“Great,” I say aloud as I type the addition into the template on the SoCal Tribune’s website.

On the inside, I am a mess.

But Hailie? Apparently, she’s just peachy-keen-jelly-bean with the whole sordid situation and reaches around me, scrolls down to the end of the page, and clicks the big red Submit button at the bottom.

“Hailie! What the heck?” Panic makes my heart lurch inside my chest like it’s stubbed its toe on the leg of the living room sofa.

But my best friend just smiles at me. “Too late to back out now, sweetcheeks.”

It’s really happening. My dad, Jake Brent, is officially in the running to be Southern California’s first Bachelor Anonymous.

Holy macaroni.

I want happiness for him more than anything in this world. He’s the best dad, and he deserves it. He deserves to find a woman who will make him happy. Someone who will make him laugh and smile. Someone he can spend time with when I’m away at college and no longer living at home. Someone he can build a life with.

But I can’t help but ask myself…Am I really prepared for him to win?

Because if he does, I can guarantee he’s going to be pissed.

Gah. Immediately, I glance at the date on iCalendar—June 15th. And then, I scour SoCal Tribune’s website to find out when the last round of voting for Bachelor Anonymous will occur—July 26th.

So…okay…almost six weeks of summer to enjoy until I have to worry about whether or not I’ll make it to see the first day of my senior year of high school…

Fingers and toes and pretty much everything crossed the next month and a half moves like Hailie that time she attempted to try out for the track team in the name of her crush on Taylor McKinley and ran the sixty-yard dash in a staggering two minutes—aka very, very, very slowly.HolleyToday might be a Tuesday, but it’s feeling all kinds of Monday.

My work to-do list is a mile-long, and I have the lovely—cough painful cough—pleasure of fitting in a quick meeting with my editor in chief before I start my day.