The Unexpected Challenges of Interdimensional Dating

by Hannah Rome

It was winter; that was the only reason Janey didn’t have a boyfriend in this dimension. Scraping the snow off her windshield took an exceedingly long time and she wouldn’t want to be late for a date all the way in the city. Last year ended in the holidays, and she couldn’t bear the idea that she may be taking time away from someone’s family. Fall was no good either, because people were largely preoccupied with hay bales and cider festivals; and in the summertime, wouldn’t any suitable companion rather be at the lakefront than on a date with her? That only left Spring -- unless, of course, you consider Easter.

Janey could sometimes go entire days without speaking at all. She lived alone and her work didn’t require much interpersonal communication. Just as well; most people weren’t worth speaking to. Ever since she was young, Janey’s had a sort of supernatural sense for whether people were worth her attention. Whether it be her high school classmates who spent their evenings pottering in parking lots or her mom’s douchebag boyfriends, Janey knew how to spot an intellectual inferior. And while solitude saved her from the trenches of inane conversation, on the rare occurrence that she saw something funny on TV, she was displeased that instead of laughter, out came a labored squawk.

It’s not that Janey had gone her entire life without human connection. She had a boyfriend in college who dumped her for her roommate, forcing her to pretend to sleep while they dry humped in the twin XL bed across from her. She’d even been on a few dates since then. She went to a brewery with a Tinder match, but declined a second date when she noticed his license plate tags were expired. She was seeing a landscaper for a few months, but worried she’d awake to find grass clippings in her bed. Bryan from the accounting department took her to mini golf, but she couldn’t stand how he looked hunched over the putter. Even though Janey pinched herself in the thigh each time she craved intimacy, she couldn’t help but wish that the heat emanating from beside her was an actual human man, and not just the heating pad that she stuffed into her pillow.

When her mom sent her the link for Companionsmith, Janey had just about given up hope. But, she was intrigued by how quickly the site, only in its beta version, could facilitate interdimensional correspondence. It was one of the reasons she opted for the yearly rate of $129.99 rather than the monthly $19.99. As of yet, the only dimension Companionsmith had access to was one locked in the Middle Ages, called Glencombe. The site described it as a world that “mirrored our own storied history, but rife with the magic and folklore we knew only to exist in fairytales.” To Janey, men in her dimension were simple and unhygienic for no reason other than their own laziness. At least in medieval times, they had an excuse.

When Janey received her Companionsmith Interdimensional Correspondence Delivery Device (CICDD) in the mail, she was surprised that it looked like an old VCR player. Not that she knew what to expect, she just thought it’d be a bit… jazzier. She’d learned in the FAQ section on the Companionship website that in the companion dimension, users would throw a scribed letter into a well, which would appear as an email on her end. Her reply would arrive back in the well, to be fished out, dried off, and orated by anyone who could read on theirs. The FAQ also warned not to switch the input on the CICDD, or the delivery system would reset. Janey couldn’t figure out what would be so detrimental about a reset, but the site was adamant.

Janey communed with a few different Glencombians. The lords were out of touch, the knights sanctimonious, the townspeople provincial. She thought she could have a good thing going with the cobbler, but wondered if he smelt like feet. But, after a few exchanges, Janey was surprised to find what good rapport she had with Miff, the troll who presided over the etrance to Glencombe Forest. In Janey’s eyes, Miff was everything a man should be. Unenthused, not too hopeful, aware of his shortcomings. He was extremely self-deprecating, which Janey found comforting. It meant she didn’t have to do all the work of bringing him back down to earth. Janey enjoyed purveying the future, entrancing the troll with tales of electricity and toilet paper, women doctors and theme parks. Janey had found a cure for that bothersome loneliness. So what if she hyperventilated whenever her heating pad was left uncharged?

Janey and Miff commiserated on their misanthropic worldview, casting judgment on princes and paupers and everyone in between. They cursed the injustices of serfdom, and admonished the serfs for being so spineless. Miff raved about the urban sprawl of Glencombe township into his treeline. He leant an ear to Janey’s gripes about work, even though he had no grasp of what data analytics was. The two went back and forth like this for months, each egging on the other’s most antisocial impulses. One day, Janey wrote to Miff about an inappropriate comment her mother’s new boyfriend said to her at dinner. Miff wrote back within minutes.

Janey, beautiful Janey, it pains me that your world is full of nothing but scoundrels who wish you harm. Believe me; with me beside you as your defendor, not one unworthy soul would be left alive.

A few weeks later, Janey was in the middle of writing to Miff explaining Ru Paul’s Drag Race when there was a knock at her door. She wasn’t expecting a delivery or visitor anytime, well, ever, so she grabbed the pocket pistol she kept for her protection and walked trepidatiously toward the door. Peering through the peephole, Janey was shocked to see a man. She was even more shocked at his full head of hair, which reminded Janey of the firewood her father used to chop in the winter, before he died. The man was wearing a neatly pressed collared shirt, which was embroidered with a logo on the chest; maybe a comet or something, though Janey felt embarrassed looking too hard. He lifted his sinewy forearm to knock again and Janey stashed the pistol in the back of her waistband before opening the door. The strangers faced each other now, and their two pairs of eyes softened.

They were quiet for a moment, but this was a silence unlike any Janey had known. 

“Uh, hi… ma’am. Shit, I mean, miss, fuck… Um,” Janey thought she’d put him out of his misery.

“Huuuack,” she squawked. Both of them, cheeks so red they look like they’d been slapped (or ought to have been), erupted into laughter. They keeled over gleefully like kids who’d found a bra. Out of breath, Janey caught a glimpse upward at the stranger on her doorstep, and quickly got back to healthy misgiving.

“Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, right, sorry. Ha ha. I’m Brad, I’m with Companionsmith. Janey Deitsch, right?” 

Brad held up his clipboard to show a paper detailing her account information. Noticing how his arm tightened when holding up the clipboard, Janey wondered how easily he could lift her up. She turned bright red again, but assured herself that she shouldn’t feel ashamed; it wasn’t her fault men in this dimension were terrible. 

“Okay… And what exactly can I help you with?” Janey asked, smoothing out her voice into a kind of silky hum, careful to avoid any accidental squawking.

“I’m just doing some maintenance in this area. There have been reports of some… abnormalities.”

“What kind of abnormalities?”

“Oh, nothing to be concerned about. Just… You’ve been sure not to change the input on the CICDD, right?”

“Um, yeah, no, I haven’t touched it.”

“Okay, good.”

“Bye now,” Janey began closing the door on Brad, eager to move past all of these silly somatic responses. 

“Uh, wait, Janey?”

“Yes?” she said, opening the door back wide, albeit a bit too eagerly.

“Listen, this is really crazy… is there any chance you’d like to go out sometime?”

“Um,” Janey looked Brad up and down, trying to find something wrong with him. To her dismay, there was nothing. Janey wondered if that meant his fatal flaw was something much more surreptitious.

“Totally feel free to say no. I know this is totally unprofessional, and believe me, I really never do this, but I just feel… I don’t know. I feel something.”

Janey felt something too. But it wasn’t like what she felt with other men. Not anxiety, or judgment, or disgust. For once, her feelings weren’t sharp and uncomfortable, but soft and warm. Like she wanted to feel them again, and again, and then never stop feeling them.

“How do you feel about mini golf?” Janey asked.

“Honestly, I can’t stand it. Makes everyone look like a hunchback.”

Janey smiled. “A date sounds nice.”

-

Janey and Brad had been seeing each other for a few weeks. With each date, Janey was more and more surprised that he hadn’t done anything to repulse her. She found more things to like about him, even. When Brad proposed bowling, Janey was sure that the sight of his feet in clown shoes would be a death sentence. But, when he slipped and fell on the oiled lane, she felt tenderness toward him and jumped to help him up. Brad was thoughtful and wry, and challenged Janey without making her feel small. Quite the opposite; with Brad, Janey stood taller than the mountains. All of this time with Brad meant that Jane had less time to write to Miff. He’d noticed, and had written her several letters imploring an explanation.

February 12th

Janey, dearest, is everything well on your side? I hate to think that something has happened to you. Is it your mother’s mate? Has he harmed you again? I could not bear the thought that a violence has occurred and I was not there to protect you. With loyalty, Miff.

February 28th

Beautiful Janey, the longer your absence persists, the more I worry that it is I who hath pushed you away. Have I said something to offend? It must be so, for how could one as precious as you find any value in as cursed a monster as me? I cannot blame you for your silence. Yours only, Miff.

March 3rd

Janey, wretched Janey, how dare you leave me to face the scourge of the earth alone. You are no better than I, and though I once found charming your human sensitivities, all along they foretold weakness. When we finally meet, and you come face to face with the strength of my will, it is vulnerability that will betray you. Till then, Miff.

After that last letter, Janey had had enough with Miff’s pessimism. She went over to the CICDD to power it down, to prevent any further correspondence from coming through. She held down the power button, but it didn’t seem to turn the machine off. She tried unplugging it, but it just switched to battery mode. Out of options, Janey switched the input dial from IDC to IRL. How bad could a reset be? 

`The light above the input dial burned hot and bright, enveloping the room in a radioactive green. The light intensified a few feet in front of the CICDD, forming a door-sized halo within which new colors began emerging. The acid green gave way to more organic shades, then a bright blue shock of sky, and an army of brown stalks. Janey began to discern the landscape that was materializing before her: an opaque, foreboding, forest.

Janey’s eyes widened as she understood the gravity of what was before her. But, before she could reach over to the CICDD and turn the dial back to IDC, a blurry figure lunged out of the portal and tackled her onto the ground. Before she knew it, eight slimy, leathery fingers wrapped around her throat and started squeezing all of the air out of her. Janey looked upon the face of her attacker: red bullseye irises, hooked nose, and skin that looked like dimpled algae.

“You see, girl?” Miff snarled. “Who’s better now?”

Janey wedged her knee under Miff’s chest and thrust him off of her. Free from Miff’s grip, she curled over and caught her breath, catching a glimpse of the pistol that she’d stashed under the couch. Miff clutched his own chest, coughing and howling. Watching him curled over in agony, a tenderness brewed in Janey’s heart. He was, as she was, afflicted by the world. She knew the pain inside of him all too well. Janey thought about the past few weeks with Brad, how he had pierced through the hardened leather that encased her heart. She worried that that breech would ultimately be her undoing, too. Janey approached Miff with an outstretched hand.

“I’m no better than you, Miff. I am you.”

Miff looked up at Janey, red saucer eyes beaming with devotion, and took her hand. Janey tenderly pulled him up from the ground, pulled the pistol from behind her back, and shot him in the head.