The One

Gay?

Tom

"Very funny, who is my real Match?" Tom asked.
"I'm not joking. Look here." She held the phone out so he could read. "It says 'Tom Wallsworth. Your designated Match is Tord, male, London, England. Please see instructions below to discover how to access their complete profile.'"
"Give me that," Tom said, and snatched his phone out of her hand, unamused by her prank. But when he read the email finally himself, he realised Sally wasnt joking.
"You're gay!" She laughed. "My boyfriend, strike that, my fiancé  is gay!"

Tom reread the email, then put his phone down on the kitchen counter. "This is bullshit," he said. "They either made a mistake or someone is having a laugh at my expense."
"Well.... its 99.9999997 percent accurate, which is far more reliable than a lie detector test."

"Well then, there's still margin for error, and if there's margin for error, then errors must be theoretically possible. And this is the proof that an almighty fucking error has been made."
"Babe, dont be angry," Sally said, stopping her laughter. "But that would make you the first person in the world to be mis-Matched... the only person about one and a half billion, who have registered. I think you need to face facts, my darling, you are a gentleman who enjoys the company of other like-minded gentlemen."

"Oh be quiet, Sal." Tom was becoming irritated. "This Match your DNA crap is just a money-making scam, otherwise they wouldnt charge a tenner to tell you who you've been Matched with. Horoscopes are more credible than this shit."
"Hey, its not a problem," Sally teased. "I always wanted a gay BFF, and it turns out I'm about to marry mine."
Tom rollled his eyes. "I'm not gay, alright?"

"Bisexual, then? I dont have a problem with that. You know I had my moments with girls when I was in uni too."
"I think I would've known about it by now if I were. You don't just get to the age of twenty-seven without a single moment of attraction to another man and then suddenly you're bisexual or gay because you licked a cotton bud and a test says you are."
"I didnt realize you were so homophobic."

"I'm not! Believe me, if I were one or the other, you and I would not be living together and about to get married. It would open up a new world of opportunities for me, and I would be out there trying to stick my dick in a whole load of new places."
"You're taking this very seriously."
"I just dont want you thinking that I am a secret closet case, because that would mean our whole relationship was a lie. And this is the most honest relationship I've ever been in."

"Oh honey... come here. I'm only teasing," Sally said. "I dont think you're gay, but you must admit, its kind of amusing. You're like that old R. Kelly song.... 'Your mind is tell you no, but your body-'"
"You're not funny." Tom topped up Sally's glass with wine and took a large gulp.

"Well, I dont know how else to react other than to joke about it, because apparently we are not destined to be with each other. And while the man of my dreams has yet to get to know himself, the man of your dreams could be living in the next street. He lives in London, too. What kind of strange coincidence is that? We may even already know him..."
"Dont be silly. And there's no 'man of my dreams'..."
"Not according to the email..."
Tom rolled his black eyes, so almost impossible for Sally to notice.

"Shall we see if we can find him on Facebook?" Sally continued.
"What?"
"Come on, let's see if I can find my competition."
"No, I dont want to."
"Are you scared you might develop a little bit of a crush on your future husband?"
Tom shook his head. "Look, we dont even know his surname."
Sally took the phone from the counter and within three easy swipes of the keypad, paid the £9.99 required for more details.

"Name: Tord Landers," she read aloud. "Age: Thirty-two. Occupation: Physiotherapist. Eyes: gray- like mine. Hair: Caramel alike- like mine." She smiled. "Height, Five foot eight- again, like me. Babe, you do have a type, dont you? He sounds like my double."
"With three exceptions- two boobies and a vagina."

"That should be enough information to find him on Facebook."
"I don't really think I want to-"
"Oh come on, it'll be fun."
Sall typed Tord's name and scrolled down through the list of postage-stamp-sized pictures. "What are the chances of there being four Tord Landers in the London area?"
"Just one it seems," Tom replied, pointing at the screen.

They simultaneously squinted at the thumbnail photo and Sally tried to click on his profile. However, Tord Landers' privacy settings wouldn't enable anyone who wasnt his friend to look any further. But even from the small picture, both recognized he was a really handsome man. His lantern jaw sported light stubble, his hair had a weird hairstyle with two tuffs seated on his head but his hair still looked good-cared and soft, going down to his shoulders. His lips were full and his eyes were wide and warm with a hidden spark of coldness though.

"I got to hand it to you, babe," Sally said. "Your DNA has a really good taste in men."