Alone Again

He first heard about her from a coworker who swore by her.

“She’s the most reliable woman you’ll ever meet,” the guy said, tapping his watch like it owed him money. “Never late. Never wrong. Always precise.”

That was all it took.

He had been feeling along for a very, very long time. He was missing human company of the female kind.

From a friend he got her number, and when he dialed, he heard her for the first time.

So sweet, such correct diction. It was a heavenly voice. Her voice was calm. Assured. Unshakably confident. No hesitation. No small talk. Just truth.

He was hooked. He started calling every day. At first, it was innocent—just to say hello. But soon, he lingered.

“Hey… uh… I know you probably think I say this to everyone, but… you sound amazing.”

He smiled. She was playing hard to get.

Days turned into weeks. He began planning their future together.

“I was thinking,” he said one evening, pacing his living room, “we could go to Italy. You know, walk through Rome, get lost in Florence—well, not really lost, because you’d know exactly that I would be with you. And home is wherever we are."

“Right, right, of course,” he nodded, as if she’d just agreed enthusiastically. “And kids! I’m thinking two. Maybe three. But we’ll keep a schedule. Bedtime at exactly—well, you’d handle that better than me.”

He began structuring his entire life around her. Dinner at 6:00 sharp. Sleep at 11:00 on the dot. He even stopped using phrases like “around” or “about.” Everything was exact now. Because she was exact.

Friends grew concerned.

“You are not fun anymore, we miss you,” one of them said.

“She’s not like the others” he snapped. “She’s consistent.”

Eventually, he decided it was time.

He dialed her number, heart pounding.

“Listen,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I think we should make this official. I’ve thought it through. I’m ready to commit. We could build something stable—something perfectly timed. I can see it all so clearly: mornings together, coffee at exactly 7:00, evening walks at 6:30—”

He paused. Slightly annoyed. He was hoping for a yes.

“Right… as I was saying, I’m ready for this. I want to spend my life with you. I want—” but she kept interrupting him and talking about something else...

He frowned.

“Could you maybe—just for a second—not interrupt? I’m trying to tell you something important.” but she kept going.

His eye twitched.

“This is serious! I’m talking about our future here!”

No change from her!

He snapped.

“That’s it! I can’t do this anymore!”

Silence.

Then, for the first time, he felt like he had her full attention.

“This… whatever this is… it’s not working. You don’t listen. You don’t respond. You just keep… correcting everything. Every moment. Every sentence.”

He took a breath, softening slightly.

“I need someone who lets time pass… not someone who announces it.”

A pause.

Then, gently, inevitably she said—

“At the tone, the time will be 8:15 exactly… beep.”

He hung up.

They never spoke again.

But sometimes, late at night, he’d pick up the phone… dial halfway… and stop.

Because deep down, he knew—

She hadn’t changed.

And she never would.