[ WP ] Years ago , you promised your firstborn to a witch . Since then , despite your best efforts , you ca n't seem to get laid . The witch is starting to get pretty pissed .

Ping. 
 
 The room was lit, momentarily, by the notification that popped up on my phone screen. Dammit, I thought I'd finally figured out how to block her. Guess ancient geas are a tad more complicated to escape than a quick swipe left. Oh well, what action failed to resolve I'm sure procrastination would sort right out. 
 
 The message quickly faded and the screen dimmed until all that was left to record its passing was a single addition to the three hundred and forty two other attention starved residents of my, rapidly overflowing, inbox. At first I'd read them all, she seemed so earnest about the whole thing. And I'd tried, I really had. Signed up for every dating site she'd forwarded. Even the ones with prominently displayed six-pacs and chaps who seemed to have dropped the soap. Whilst not wearing trousers. Of course those had petered out after a somewhat uncomfortable discussion about science in general, biology in particular, and how two birds ca n't make a hive and other, extremely tortured, euphemisms. Couple hundred years under the belt and apparently she had n't figured out the particular mechanics of where first borns actually come from. Amazing what is n't included in ye olde witchy curricula. 
 
 It's not like I was n't trying. And to be fair, she should have suspected that payment would take a while. A contract, signed in red ink after I'd fainted at the mention of blood, to bind eldridge abominations to the fulfillment of my heart's deepest desire... a new series of the oft maligned, criminally under-rated, `` Space Lads!'' franchise, the greatest tour de force in speculative science fiction cinematography since... well, ever. We'd met on a Friday night. At 9. I was already in my star wars jammies. There was coco. In a mug proudly emblazoned with a cat declaring its dislike for Mondays. We'd spent hours crafting the exact clauses, piles of my favorite philosophy and legal reference books had steadily grown as we'd argued over epistemology and grammatical nuance. I'd giggled. Frequently. An expression of nervous mirth that has been described as something only a mother could tolerate. She really should have known better. 
 
 But she had n't. And now we find ourselves in this weird relationship. She's become my mom, at least the way she'd been before she'd given up and accepted Mister Meow-gi as a furrier, more feline, grandchild than was originally expected. 
 
 And really I should n't complain, it's not that bad. Certainly the penis enlargement forwards had been perhaps a little unkind, but her heart was probably in the right place. And to her credit, she'd really done a lot to fill in the blanks since our conversation. The articles she clipped out of Cosmo and dropped through the letterbox certainly displayed a rather more developed sense of bedroom business than she'd had before. I dare say she had n't imagined there were more than 2 uses for toothpaste, let along the 28 rather crude suggestions in this week's edition, before she'd met me. Admittedly we'd had a very heated discussion after those incidents with the girls she'd bought over - frankly I'm not convinced that kidnapping is an ancient witch tradition ( fortunately a bracing cup of coco, a few episodes of Space Lads!, and a chat about warding rituals and banishing potions left everyone a lot happier than they'd been once gags were removed and argyle socks handed out ) but she was getting desperate and had had a very different upbringing, poor dear. And of course I'm too much of a gentleman to repeat the whole love potion palaver. 
 
 So now she goes speed dating on my behalf. Sends me photos of the ones I might like. Their phone numbers sometimes. She scours internet sites and places lonely heart ads in the papers. She's joined 3 knitting circles and knows the name, profession, and ovulation cycle of every single woman in the city. A decent portion of the human-adjacent supernatural community as well. Next week she's taking us on a singles cruise. I thought she'd learned her lesson after the utter failure that was dancing class. And the extremely unfortunate series of events that's seen us banned from every bar within a decent drive. At least she's never followed through on the threats of karaoke and singles night. 
 
 I feel terrible about letting her down but I'm so busy. The Space Lads! fan-club really does take up so very much of my time and attention. Then there's the conventions to plan for. Taxes that need to be preprepared. The sock drawer needs a dusting. So many demands on my time. 
 
 Anyway, I think all the socializing is really rather good for her. She has n't had time to hex anyone in weeks. 

