This went on for what seemed an eternity as Sam and Gail cussed, fussed, and pages went ripping and flying in the air. Through the K’s they fussed. Through the M’s they cussed. Now, through the P’s Sam fussed, pulling out a plastic knife and threatening to saw Gail’s weave. Through the T’s, Gail cussed back, holding two cans of mace pointed at Sam.

Finally we hit Z. Phone book paper was piled to the airplane’s ceiling. Exhausted and worn, we poured some wine and toasted to our success. We had chosen five men. From Atlanta to Los Angeles. From Oakland to Philly. From New York to D.C. Five men, all eligible, all single, and most important, men I had previously dated who had hinted at the possibility of a future together.

“Great.”

“Great!”

“Wait,” Sam said, stopping Gail and me in mid-celebration.

“What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, Sam?”

“Three things. Time, opportunity, and access. Everybody we chose is very busy and their social calendars are full, not to mention, they’re spread across the entire country.”

“That ain’t no problem,” Gail offered. “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammad, then Mohammad must go to the mountain.”

“I can’t go chasing after these men. They’ll think I’m desperate.”

“Montana, you need a husband in three weeks! Hello! If that’s not desperate, then what is? A man has too many options to be fooling around chasing a woman. The ratio is already thirteen to one. And that’s thirteen to one nine-to-five working, paycheck to paycheck living, public transportation riding kind of man. Don’t get one that’s got a little something going for him. That’s got a house, got some money, or even worse yet, that’s got a dream. Don’t let him have a little status, a little notoriety. Then you’re really in trouble. ’Cause then, it’s like a thousand to one. See, you’ve got to make yourself stand out so that in that thousand, he only sees one.”

I was in shock. For once, Gail was saying something that made sense. Standing before me was a new Gail. A sage. A master. Love’s Dalai Lama. A spiritual guide to help me navigate through love’s uncharted waters. She was my teacher and I was her pupil. Gail had the answers, the solutions, and the cures to my woes.

Like a humble apprentice, I asked the next obvious question. “So, teacher, how do you make yourself the one?” I pensively asked, anxious to soak up her wisdom and insight.

“Hell if I know. Do you see a damn ring on my finger?” Okay, now this was the Gail that I knew.