“Marry me, Mum really wants me to!”
“Charlotte, you shouldnt be thinking about workyou should be thinking about settling down!” Mum said over the phone. “Youre already thirty! No husband, no kids. And I want grandchildren!”
“Mum, I dont have time right now, well talk later,” Charlotte replied. She hated these conversations, and honestly, she really was swamped.
“What do you mean, no time?! You never have time! Your life will just fly by!” Mum huffed.
“Mum, darling, please,” Charlotte begged, “Ive got a meeting in five minutes. Ill call you tonight, and you can scold me then, alright? Love you, bye!”
Rushing to the meeting, Charlotte barked quick instructions at her assistant. Her whole day was mapped out to the minute. Loads to doand tomorrow, she was off on a business trip. For two years now, shed been living non-stop. Even before becoming CEO, shed worked and studied relentlessly, but now? Rest was a distant memory.
Deep down, Charlotte knew Mum had a pointshe *should* think about her personal life. But where was she supposed to find a husband when she was always at work? Office romances were off-limitstoo much gossip if things went south. The only person she could confide in was her childhood best friend, Emily. Theyd always been like sisters.
“Charlotte, just try a dating app,” Emily suggested when Charlotte told her about Mums nagging. “Fill out a profilemaybe youll meet someone decent. Or at least look around! Theres got to be one respectable single bloke in your circle.”
“Sure, remind me to think about it tomorrow,” Charlotte laughed. Emily knew that tonecode for *not interested*.
“Tomorrow” slid into “after my business trip.” True to her word, Charlotte posted a profile when she got back. She skipped mentioning her CEO title, keeping it simple: “finance professional.” Almost instantly, some bloke with sky-high confidence and zero grammar slid into her DMs. (Apologies in advancethis is painful, but you need to *feel* Charlottes agony):
*”hey u can stop lookin now cos im the best ur ever gettin”*
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, willing the words to unburn themselves from her brain. She ignored himbut seriously considered deleting her profile right then. Then came the barrage:
*”y u ignorin me”*
*”gimme ur number”*
*”wer u live”*
*”lets meet”*
*”send address ill cum over”*
*”marry me”*
*”i see u online y u ignorin”*
*”u cheatin on me”*
*”u shud no im the best”*
*”ur mine anyways”*
*”im da man wot i say goes”*
*”Maybe there* are *decent men on herejust not for me. Absolute nutter. Da man, seriously?”* She screenshotted the mess and sent it to Emily: *”My soulmate has arrived. Off to cry now.”*
Charlotte deleted her profile immediately. A few more suitors like that, and shed lose her mindor her eyesight from the spelling alone.
“Charlotte, *when* are you getting married?” Mum pestered again during her morning commute.
Charlotte took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and said calmly, “Soon. Alright, Mum, gotta gotalk tonight.”
She glanced at her chauffeur, James. Ten years older, ex-military, sharp as a tack. Over the years driving her, hed become more than just staffhe was her closest friend. Plus, hed been divorced for ages.
“James,” she said offhand, no hint of emotion, “marry me. Mum really wants me to.”
“Well, if Mum wants it, Margaret,” he deadpanned, “then I suppose I must. Cant say no to Mum.”
Truth was, theyd both fancied each other for agesjust stuck in professional limbo. Charlotte never saw him as husband material, and James? He thought he wasnt good enough for a CEO. But when *she* proposedjoke or nothe said yes. (Both assumed the other was kidding.)
And so, half-joking, they got married. Turned out to be the real dealhappy marriage, shared interests, love, respect. Oh, and two kids, much to the grandparents delight.
