“Complete CHARMER profile questions, attach photo, click SUBMIT”.  

Tabatha Runeheart stared at the yet to be filled-in sign up form for her yet untouched dating profile - despite installing it over a week ago. She stared and sighed a remarkably impressive sigh for a woman of her size and stature: 5’2 and neat. She wasn’t ready. But three months had come and gone since she’d thrown out another one of her ‘Bewitched Boys’ and she was tired of the one-night abracadabra routine. “No more tricks or bewitchments,” she thought. The next person she’d date would find her instead and it would be for what they really saw, not what she could make them see.

She answered the ‘Name’ question, avoided ‘Age and ‘Build’ altogether, and went straight to ‘Likes’ and ‘Dislikes’. Tabatha knew next to nothing about dating apps, but she knew that whatever she brewed up would determine all future interactions, if any.

Out came another impressive sigh. Out there, she had beguiled every wizard, warlock, enchanter, and conjuror of cheap tricks within the kingdom, what else was out there beside the odd foul-smelling ghoul or potion-addicted occultist that she’d find on this app? Was this pointless?

She reflected on the reality that witches don’t tend to want relationships typically, comfortably spending centuries alone, only wanting another's affection during those final few hundred-years of their extraordinarily long lives. Tabatha wasn’t like other witches, relatively young, being only 219, and yet she had as many relationships as she had birthdays. Why was she so different?

CLICK! Profile picture done. With the help of the app’s auto-fill function, she completed her profile, leaving the results to the disobedient hands of fate.  

She put down her phone and went off to her cauldron to brew herself something nice and to feed her familiar. Summer had passed; the longest she’d been alone. Thinking optimistically, maybe in the next few months, she’d meet a nice necromancer. Someone to share a cauldron with, maybe even raise the dead with. Maybe fall could be the season, her season, to finally get what she’s wanted.