Anonymous Satire Column
In a certain kingdom, in a certain valley, a small settlement atop a hill, Steubenvillage, was alive with people of all manner; one of whom is of particular interest to our tale: Francis Underhill.
Francis was an honest and straightforward young man; he liked people to be straightforward and honest with him. This attitude, as it has for men throughout the ages, could make life a tad difficult here and there.
Our tale begins one fateful Tuesday, as, after a long day of philosophizing with his fellows, Francis returned to his quarters for the night. On his way, he passed by the common room to his noble house, Disciples of God (DOG).
Peering through the door, he witnessed a horrific sight, stopping him in his tracks. There was something heinous– abominable, even– happening in his own common room. He shook with a concoction of dread and rage, seething with righteous fury. This would not stand. It could not.
Francis burst through the door with zealous wrath, grabbing the first perpetrator and defenestrating him. He then turned to the other, picked her up, and dropped her atop her accomplice below the window. If PDA they desire, then PDA they shall have. That is, a Public Display of Aggression.
Scenes such as this had once turned Francis against romance entirely. Steubenvillage seemed to be teeming with love-struck fools, unable to control their impulses, constantly displaying their “love” for the world to see. Francis found nothing lovely about a pair of hands remaining fused from sunrise to sunset.
However, his attitude toward the matter, as is destined for members of the male sex, changed. He met a young maiden, and his whole worldview was flipped in an instant. He was struck like a trad upon first hearing chanted compline. There was no going back.
But how does one approach such an angelic being as Mary? Francis did not know, and so… he did not. Not for two years, that is. But in that time, he never forgot that first intimate moment of encounter. He wrote poem after poem, diary after diary, never ceasing in his ardent love.
One day he worked up the courage, aided by the exhortations of his fellow DOGs, and asked Mary to court him. She said, “No thanks. I’m saving myself for my future husband.”
“…,” he replied.
“…,” she answered.
Recovering from his dazed moment of consternation, Francis asked, “How will you find who your future husband is if you don’t court anyone?”
“I’ll know,” she said.
With time, Francis moved on from this silly fancy of his, recognizing how childishly he had acted. From now on, he would be forward and daring in his romantic endeavors, and he would expect the same in turn.
He continued his life on the hill, becoming the best version of himself he could. He worked hard every day, prayed harder, and never stopped being an honest man. His mind left the world of romance and returned to its ordinary affairs. He was at last back to a normal, healthy state. Then he met Frances Overhill.
Frances was perfect in every way, Francis thought, so he decided to be bold, as he had promised himself he would be, and asked her out.
Poor Frances didn’t know what to say. She could not tell him she wasn’t interested, as he was a nice boy, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. At the same time, though, she could not say yes, as her desire for him was as strong as a malnourished peasant. There must be a third option.
Frances decided the best course of action would be to say no, but to say that it was because she wasn’t ready to court, leaving out the part about being uninterested. It seemed to work. Francis respected her no and backed off, at the same time vowing that he would wait as long as it took for her to be ready.
Francis waited a month.
He waited a year.
He waited ten years.
In all that time, though she was ready from the moment she said otherwise, Frances never began a relationship, because she knew that Francis had not lost hope, and she could not bring herself to crush him in that way. So she decided to wait for him to be over her.
She waited a month.
She waited a year.
She waited ten years.
Neither Francis nor Frances ever could bring themselves to confront the other directly on the matter: Francis because he believed she needed space, and he would not impede upon it, and Frances because she believed he needed time to get over her, and she would not interfere by bringing up the topic again.
And so, they waited.