Friends: I think it’s time to admit the pretext behind these “Uncle Yarv” posts.
While all my public and private advice is perfectly sincere and I believe even good (and everyone who is still waiting for an email will get one, I swear), obviously the series is nothing but a giant personal ad—done with the usual Gray Mirror megalomania. (I like to think of myself as an empathic megalomaniac.)
I should explain why, despite the excellent reverse advice of Marguerite from Port Moresby—hardly the only place I have heard the same message—I would start publicly dating, at 48, (exactly) five months after my wife (of 20 years) unexpectedly passed away.
It’s simple: when she was first diagnosed, I promised her I would replace her. I don’t see any reason to delay that, and anyway I just wound up dating someone anyway—sacrificing my “widower virginity,” which was indeed more sacred than I’d realized. Once it’s gone, however, it’s gone—virginity is like that.
Also, because I think life should come out of death, I do want to meet someone of childbearing age. (Besides, I was visiting a university the other day—corrupting the youth, as one does—and a friend of my host was being dropped off by his mom. She thought I was one of her son’s friends. We may have some Nazgul genes, or something, maybe from my 107-year-old grandmother.)
If you fit this bill, and are reasonably pretty and pretty smart, and have read my work and like it, and you and think the purpose of dating is to get married and have kids, just respond to this email (or the signup email)—and, unless I’m already attached to someone else, we’ll do a half-hour zoom date. Easy, quick, no pressure. (The pictures of me online are pretty accurate—that’s not my laptop, but it is my jacket.)
Obviously it’s okay if you come with kids, dogs, etc. I probably don’t live in your city, but I will fly anywhere for a date—certainly easier on the West Coast, though. I am not broke and know a lot of cool people, and my kids (10, 13) are charming and talented.
Also, if I sleep with you, that means I’m committed to you—which doesn’t mean we won’t break up, just that I won’t, like, discard you emotionlessly, or something, and I certainly won’t be dating anyone else. And I’ll convert to anything for the right girl—no cults pls.
And if you are not a smart, pretty female looking for marriage, you can still email me with personal (not political, there would be too much of that) questions. (Although, frankly, Gray Mirror readers being a pretty put-together bunch, my most common response is just—that the question indicates one who already knows its answer.)