Cricket, she's just not that into you
By Jennifer M. Latzke
I’m a born romantic at heart.
I just know that there’s someone for everyone.
But I’m about to track down the little lovesick cricket that’s been raising a racket in our office and tell him, “Dude, give it up. She’s obviously not into you.”
For two weeks now, he’s been doing what comes naturally to crickets in the hope that some bachelorette cricket—a crick-ette, if you will—will find his song attractive enough to deem him worthy. That’s two weeks of chirping, practically non-stop, in our office.
Aren’t there rules against this torture in the Geneva Convention?
We can’t find the cricket to help him along his journey of discovery in the great outdoors. And I’m just superstitious enough that I won’t kill him if I can help.
I don’t need the bad luck.
But, the other day, I got to thinking. Maybe we should make a reality competition show for our little buddy to find his companion.
Let’s see. We could start with “The Bachelor Cricket,” a competition where we bring a group of model girl crickets and each week narrow it down to his one camera-ready true love. No rose ceremony—they’d just eat it anyway.
No? Well, what about going old school with “The Cricket Dating Game?” I can see it now. We get a little Chirp Woolery cricket host and three girl cricket contestants.
“Crick-ette No. 1, what’s your idea of the perfect date?”
“Well, Chirp, I like long hops in the dark basement, and getting caught in the rain.”
No, that’s no good. Where would we ever find a tiny little microphone on a stick?
I got it. A chirping competition! We’ll call it “The CHIRP” and we’ll have coaches on little tiny swiveling chairs—Hop Shelton and Jiminy Levine.
Wait, wait, wait. I got it. We’ll start an online dating service for crickets and cicadas and all those other noisy buggy mate seekers. We’ll call it eChirp-any! Got a noisy cricket that’s driving you to distraction? Just upload a picture, create a profile and someone somewhere will have a match for your special little insect buddy. All for the low, low price of $19.95 per day.
I’m afraid if that doesn’t work, I’m all out of ideas. And the sound of that little bug is getting louder and louder and it’s driving me to distraction. I used to think that sound was soothing and sort of romantic. You know, like sitting on a tailgate in the turn row with your sweetie at the end of a long, hot harvest day kind of romantic.
Now, after two weeks of this, I have no love for this little loud-mouth torturing me from next door. And, I’m about to be the worst sort of anti-Cupid.
“Cricket. Dude. I hate to break it to you. But let me introduce you to Ms. Shoe.”
Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached at 620-227-1807 or email@example.com.