Read The Lost Souls Dating Agency for Free Online Page A

was the first week of the first semester back at uni and study was the last thing on my mind. I’m sure my brain processed no useful information that day. I was so distracted by thoughts of my case. I also made a concerted effort to try not to run into Megan or Neha. I wasn’t ready to talk to them.
    I hurried home after class and looked through my notes titled “plans”. So plan A involved going to a public place, a mall or shopping area, and presenting potential women with a questionnaire, say for market research for a new internet dating site. But really it would be designed to help me measure their vampire-tolerance quotient. I’m so proud of my fabricated technical term! Anyway, if I found someone suitable, I would ask if they were willing to go on a blind date. I obviously wouldn’t tell them it was a date with a vampire.
    A wave of guilt hit me. Was this the right thing to do? If only there was an ethical standards guide for supernatural matchmaking. This whole scheme seemed terribly patchy and somewhat dangerous for the women I was involving. I wished I had a more sensible plan B. But there was no plan B. I pushed away the issues gnawing at me. They could wait, at least until I found a woman to worry about, if at all.
    ***
    Two days later, armed with a clipboard, I headed for the main shopping strip in the city, Bourke Street. The pedestrian mall pulsed with activity. I dodged trams that ran in the thoroughfare between shops, as I posed my questionnaire to women.
    It was a complete waste of time. I spent days on Bourke Street, walking up to women, asking if they were willing to participate in a dating website survey. Most of them snubbed me. The ones who didn’t seemed lukewarm, if not downright weird. In the end I found myself robotically asking questions.
    â€˜What are the characteristics of your ideal date?’
    â€˜What is your favourite thing to do on a date?’
    â€˜What quality do you find most attractive in a date?’
    My methods failed miserably. I needed a fresh approach which was…I drew a giant blank. I started to feel like a deflated balloon.
    At the end of a frustrating week, I knew it was time to do something more than mope. I looked guiltily at the gym pass attached to my keys. Maybe it was time for some exercise. The endorphin hit would do me good. I changed into a cotton T-shirt and running shorts and walked to the gym not far from home. I liked its small community feel, more than other massive warehouses of equipment, hamster wheels and buffed muscles.
    An hour later, sweat was pouring out of me when I finished my treadmill run. I was cooling down and stretching when I heard, ‘Hey, Shalini, I haven’t seen you here for a while!’ My sometimes gym buddy Fiona was smiling at me.
    I grinned back. ‘Hey, it’s great to see you!’
    â€˜Where have you been?’ she asked.
    â€˜Oh I’ve been a little caught up with work. It’s been super busy,’ I lied.
    â€˜Oh that’s too bad,’ Fiona said sympathetically.
    We talked for a while which continued with a post-workout tea. I was glad to discuss things other than the agency. As I sipped my tea and chatted with Fiona, I realised I quite liked the quiet, good-natured Fiona.
    â€˜I’ve decided to volunteer at the community centre and I love it! It’s so nice not to have my head buried in books about medieval tapestries,’ Fiona joked.
    My ears pricked immediately. ‘Medieval tapestries?’
    â€˜Oh I’m a research assistant for Professor McPherson, a historian at Victoria University. Haven’t I told you about that? I bore everyone else to death about it all the time.’ She smiled.
    â€˜No, I’m really interested.’ In more ways than one. ‘So do you specialise in tapestries?’
    â€˜Well that’s one part of it. My specialisation is late middle ages England, you know before the Elizabethan age,’ Fiona said