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Our game is quick. We die quickly. It’s difficult to take on other teams when you know they’re cheating. How do you know? When there are cheaters around, the entire game freezes and glitches. I was practically frozen in mid-air while being shot.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Lo says.

I huff. “I think they need a server just for the hackers to play. This game gets boring when it’s filled with cheaters.”

“Agreed,” Lo says. “I’m gonna take off, man. I’m around this weekend if you want to play a game or two.”

“Thanks. Sounds good.”

“Later.”

“See ya.”

I pull my headset off as I turn the console off via the controller. I set both items on their charging stations

One of the things I love about this building is the silence. It’s also the thing I hate. I can’t even hear the wind, though when I look outside, I can see the trees blowing like they’re crowds in the stands with their hands in the air doing the wave.

When you’re on the top of the building and it’s windy, you can feel the entire thing move. It’s supposed to. That’s how they’re built. But fuck is it frightening. It feels like the entire building is going to fall over.

But yeah. The silence is a blessing and a curse. It reminds me just how alone I am out here. In a city of over two-and-a-half million people, it’s kind of frustrating to feel alone.

I reach forward to grab the remote off the table and flick the television on. An ad immediately pops up since that seems to be how all streaming apps work these days. I watch it absently, easily identifying it as a movie trailer.

I’m not sure what about it catches my attention, except… mail-order brides. When the trailer is over, I grab my phone and look up the movie, watching the other trailers available for the movie.

“Is that really a thing?” I wonder out loud.

In high school, we took a trip to Ellis Island and toured the museum.

I remember while we were there reading something about the start of this country and how it was definitely a thing then.

Men or women would write to some place, corresponding with someone from another country who maybe wanted to come to the new States.

They’d arrive, meet, and if they chose to continue, they’d marry right there on Ellis Island.

Yes, this was a real thing. I read about it at the Ellis Island Museum. That’s not how my ancestors came here but the fact that mail-order brides truly existed baffled me even then.

But is it still a thing?

I’ve heard of passport bros—men who prey on women from foreign countries, believing they’re docile. My cousins used to laugh about it. They weren’t laughing at the victims, but at these guys who practically had to purchase a girlfriend because women here wouldn’t stand for their gross shit.

The thought of this kind of transaction makes my stomach roil. It’s also not what I’m looking for. I don’t want a docile wife. I want someone I can connect with. I want an equal. I don’t want to be mistaken for the supposed passport bros, but…

The thought of maybe finding love from a country where they’re not so focused on sex in the media, and therefore it doesn’t color all aspects of life… It means I might find what I’m looking for. I might find someone who can accept me as I am.

I do a quick search for ‘ mail-order bride . ’ As with everything you search, ads pop up in your feed first. All those stupid results that are paying for reach but may not be the best answer to what you’re looking for.

I almost always choose the first link that doesn’t have the ‘ Sponsored ’ tag below it.

Mail Order Spouse.

Okay, so there are definitely pages and pages of results. Good to know. Since this first site has a little green checkmark, meaning it’s safe, I click on it and read through the first page.

The process is, of course, completely voluntary for both parties.

Each side signs up. Generally speaking, the person who wants their partner to come to them is the one reading through profiles and ‘ choosing .’ Likewise, the one who wants to leave their country or life (or whatever reason they’re choosing to become a mail-order spouse) is entered into a database.

Again, it’s completely voluntary, and both parties need to agree before arrangements can be made.

The choosing party finds the match they think is best. That profile is presented to the chosen, and if they agree, some basic correspondence can take place while arrangements are made to fly the chosen out to the chooser.

It talks about the different countries where people can match from. There’s a little bar on the bottom that counts how many couples this site has matched. Even as I’m watching it, the number ticks up by one.

I click around a little more and then sit back and close my eyes. If I do this , maybe it’ll be easier to find someone like me. I can go through profiles until I find one that seems like it makes sense as far as sexual preferences and identities are concerned.

But… Can I really do this?

I glance at the bank of windows beside me. It’s dark. Which means my reflection is far more prominent now than it would otherwise be. The only noise in my condo is the television. I’m alone on the couch.

I’m always alone on the couch. Alone in the kitchen and in my bedroom. Alone when I go grocery shopping or down to the pool.

It doesn’t take me much to imagine someone in my arms as we watch a movie. I can see a wisp of their hinted-at reflection in the window.

Okay. Maybe. I can at least look, right? It might not work out, just as every app I’ve tried has never worked out.

Turning back to my phone, I click on the link that brings me to the form to begin creating an account and building my profile.