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Marvin's life was simple.
Monday: wake up, regret your life decisions, go to work, eat, sleep.
Tuesday: repeat.
Wednesday: repeat.
Thursday: repeat.
Friday: repeat—but with a little bit of relief after work.
Saturday: wake up, spend some time with Jason, clean the house.
Sunday: wake up, spend time with Jason, sometimes get invited to the lesbians’, drop Jason off at Trina’s, and sleep.
It was predictable, uneventful, and steady. Marvin didn’t mind it—there was no drama, no unnecessary complications. Life had settled into a rhythm, one that felt safe and manageable.
And yet, every now and then, he’d find himself staring into the quiet corners of his apartment, wondering if something was missing.
Or maybe… someone?
Definitely someone.
Someone particular.
With a particular name.
But he couldn’t have him back. Marvin was sure of it. There were no second chances, not for him. He’d been selfish, an ass, and there was no undoing the damage he’d caused. All that was left to do now was miss him—to sit in the quiet and ache for someone who was no longer there.
Cordelia and Charlotte noticed, of course. They tried setting him up on dates, insisting he needed to “get back out there.” He went on two, both disasters in their own way.
The people were fine, objectively. But no one felt right. No one came close.
In comparison to Whizzer, they all seemed dull.
He wanted to date—he wanted to move on. But he couldn’t. Not really. Because the truth was, Marvin didn’t just want to date someone.
He wanted to date Whizzer.
So the days blurred together. Work, sleep, Jason. Repeat.
Until, one night, something small and unexpected broke the cycle.
He was sitting in bed, flipping through the newspaper—something he always did before turning out the light. His eyes skimmed the headlines, then the opinion section, then… the personal ads.
He never looked at those. Why would he?
But tonight, for no particular reason, he did.
The usual entries were there:
“Unmarried, childless woman seeking companionship.”
“Man in his 40s looking for a kind and cultured lady.”
They all blurred together.
Until one caught his attention:
If you like champagne cocktails
And staying dry when there’s rain
If you’re into some racquetball
And you’ve got half a brain
If you like making love at midnight
On the back of a truck
Then I’m the one you’ve been seeking—
Write to me, try your luck.
Marvin chuckled when he saw it, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. Of course someone would post the lyrics to The Piña Colada Song in a personal column. It was absurd. Cheesy. Ridiculous.
And yet...
His fingers hovered over the page. Was this person serious? Was it a joke? He couldn’t quite tell, but something about it tugged at him. Maybe it was the humor, or maybe it was the idea of escape itself.
He read the entry again. And again.
The truth was, it reminded him of Whizzer—playful, bold, and completely unapologetic. Whizzer had been the type of person who could’ve easily written something like this. Marvin could almost hear him singing the song in that slightly off-key voice he used to annoy him on purpose.
He set the paper down, sighing deeply. It had been months—too many months—and still, Whizzer was everywhere in his mind. He wasn’t just someone Marvin had dated. He was the someone. The one Marvin had screwed things up with, and the one he couldn’t stop missing.
His hand brushed the edge of the newspaper, hesitating.
“What’s the harm?” he muttered to himself.
Marvin grabbed a pen and circled the ad. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing—just that he couldn’t let this strange, silly chance slip by without at least something.
He tore the page from the newspaper, folded it neatly, and placed it on his bedside table.
The next Sunday, after dropping Jason off, Marvin sat down at his desk and stared at the blank page for longer than he cared to admit. Finally, he picked up his pen and started writing.
Yes, I like champagne cocktails
But I prefer Irish coffee
And being all dry and warm
I suck at racquetball
But I might have a brain
Why don’t we meet at O’Malley’s
Anytime you please
And plan our escape?
It wasn’t perfect—far from it. Marvin winced, rereading the words, but he couldn’t think of a way to make it better. He wasn’t a poet, and there was no point pretending otherwise.
He folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and addressed it to the reply box. His handwriting looked wobbly, almost hesitant, but he decided not to rewrite it.
Before he could second-guess himself, Marvin grabbed his coat and headed out the door. At the nearest mailbox, he hesitated for a brief moment, the letter feeling heavier in his hand than it should.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself.
But he still slid the envelope in and let it drop.
As the flap of the mailbox closed, he felt a strange mix of relief and anxiety. Now, all he could do was wait.
The response arrived three days later.
When Marvin opened the envelope, he found a neatly typed page.
If you really suck at racquetball
l I don’t mind at all
I just want to see you soon
Maybe Sunday afternoon?
I’ll be dressed in green shirt
You’ll recognize it when we meet.
It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it didn’t need to be. Marvin found himself smiling as he read it. The words were playful, simple, and strangely endearing.
But his smile faded when he remembered—Jason had a baseball game that Sunday afternoon.
Sighing, Marvin sat down at his desk again, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper to respond.
I would love to see you soon
But I’m not free that afternoon
I could see you later then
Maybe around 10pm?
If, not I don’t feel bitter
As long as you respond to my letter
Marvin reread his response a few times, feeling a little silly but satisfied enough. Without waiting too long to overthink, he sealed it, addressed it, and sent it off.
Now, the waiting began again.
Fortunately, the response came the next day. It was noted as urgent, even the post stamp was one of more expensive ones to make the delivery quick.
Then, I’ll be there at 10 pm
Can’t wait for you to see, who I am
With each passing hour the excitement inside Marvin seemed to grow stronger. For the first time in two years he was enthusiastic about a date.
Of course, when he told lesbians about the idea, they made it their mission to make him, quote: Presentable, so his date wouldn’t run away the moment he sees him.
Well, that was quite fair. He gave up taking care of himself. He rareley shaved, used one gel to wash his face, hair and body and he probably needed to start supplementing with some vitamins again.
Too bad, most of those flaws couldn’t be hidden in one evening, but a trim on his hair and a bit of brightness on his face had a sufficient effect.
For once, he didn’t look like a zombie.
_______________________
He showed up early.
Too early.
Jason’s game had ended faster than expected — his team had been crushed by one of the league’s top contenders. Marvin tried to cheer him up, but Jason didn’t seem to care much about the loss.
Now, Marvin sat in his car near O’Malley’s entrance, nerves buzzing. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror, checking and rechecking for imagined imperfections. Was his shirt buttoned right? Had one gone missing? Was his hair sticking up? He told himself to stop, but his hands wouldn’t listen.
At exactly ten o’clock, he saw someone.
Someone in a green shirt.
But… it couldn’t be.
He sank lower in his seat, heart thudding.
It was Whizzer.
Whizzer stood outside the entrance, shifting his weight from foot to foot, checking his watch every few minutes. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Each sigh Whizzer let out made Marvin’s stomach twist tighter.
Then another man approached him.
“Hey, mate, you alright?”
“Not really. I think I’ve been stood up.”
“Too bad. Why don’t you come in? We’ll find you some company?”
A hot wave of jealousy tore through Marvin. His fault. All of it. Now he was sure — Whizzer had been the one behind the ads. If only Marvin had asked for his address directly, instead of relying on the newspaper’s mediation. They could’ve met somewhere better. Or… he could’ve avoided this entirely.
But maybe—just maybe—this was his chance. A chance to show Whizzer he’d changed. That he might actually deserve him now.
Except… approaching him now would make it obvious Marvin had been sitting in his car just a few meters away the whole time.
Whizzer’s voice broke his spiral. “Yeah, it’s a bit cold. But I don’t need company yet. I’ll wait a little more.” He smiled politely, then headed inside.
That was it — Marvin’s cover was blown.
He jumped out of the car and followed him in.
Whizzer was at the counter, leaning casually as he placed an order. The place was quiet for a Sunday night; a few couples murmured over drinks, the low hum of conversation mixing with soft music. Most people, Marvin thought, were home in bed, preparing for Monday. Sensible people.
He edged closer, close enough for Whizzer to hear but far enough not to intrude. He knew exactly how to signal without turning the moment into an awkward public scene.
“One Piña Colada, please,” he told the bartender, his voice steady despite the tight knot in his stomach.
It took everything in him not to glance over, not to watch Whizzer’s face when the words landed. He wanted to give him a second — space to register, to decide how to respond.
Before his drink even arrived, Marvin heard it.
That voice.
The one he’d missed every single day.
“So,” Whizzer said, a hint of a smile in his tone, “you’re the helpless poet from the paper?”
Marvin took a slow breath and finally looked at him.
“Was I really that bad?”
Whizzer’s mouth quirked. “No. If you were, I wouldn’t have waited in here for half an hour.” He took an easy sip of his drink, eyes never leaving Marvin.
Marvin’s shoulders loosened, just a little. “Sorry about that.”
Whizzer tilted his glass in a casual shrug. “You showed up. That’s what matters.”
“Soo… you don’t mind that it’s… me?”
Whizzer arched a brow. “Well, I wasn’t expecting this. But the Marvin I knew wouldn’t have traded cheesy notes with a stranger.”
“That’s fair,” Marvin admitted. “I might have changed.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.”
They settled into the rhythm more easily than Marvin would have thought possible. For the next hour, until the place began winding down for closing, they talked. Caught up. Laughed. Even flirted a little — not in a pushy way, and not with any real heat behind it. It was lighter than that. Softer. Sweet, in a way Marvin hadn’t let himself imagine in years.
“Looks like we have to leave,” Marvin said, catching the not-so-subtle glance from one of the staff wiping down tables.
“Oh, yes,” Whizzer agreed, smiling faintly. “It’s getting a bit late.”
Out by the car, they lingered in the cool night air, debating briefly before agreeing that Marvin would give Whizzer a ride home. At the curb, Whizzer pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on the back of a receipt, handing it over.
“So you don’t have to write a poem every single time you want to talk to me,” he said.
Marvin tucked the scrap into his wallet like it was made of gold.
That night, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.
And the next morning, he shaved.
_______________
They met next weekend. Twice.
And next weekend.
And not on the weekend next week.
Not much happened — at least, nothing dramatic. Mostly, they talked. Both of them seemed a little wary, unsure of how far they could go or what lines they could cross. Every smile, every brush of a hand, felt like testing the water.
Until Charlotte decided to give them a little push — by inviting both Marvin and Whizzer over for dinner.
“We need to get to know your future boyfriend,” she teased.
“I’m not sure he wants to be my boyfriend ever again,” Marvin muttered.
“Oh, come on, he wouldn’t be spending so much time with you for nothing!” Cordelia chimed in.
“She’s right,” Charlotte agreed. “He’s probably just as scared as you are. That’s why he has to come over — to see you in a more private setting.”
Marvin sighed in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll let him know. But I can’t promise anything.”
Whizzer agreed.
So for their next date, they met at the apartment next door to Whizzer’s. Cordelia did her best not to burn anything in the kitchen.
They sat around the table, a bit awkward. Marvin wasn’t sure how this would go — or how they’d all get along — so he kept to himself, hesitant to make a move.
Before long, Charlotte broke the silence.
“So, what are your intentions towards our dear friend?”
Whizzer flushed slightly.
“I… well, I do like him,” he mumbled.
“That should be obvious. Not many people put up with him for more than thirty minutes.”
“I enjoy his company.”
“Good. You want to see him more?”
“Obviously.”
“Invite him over to your place.”
“I would love that.”
“Move in with him.”
“Not yet. Maybe someday.”
“Do you want to settle down?”
“Yes.”
“With him?”
“Enough of that,” Marvin cut in. “You don’t have to answer. She’s just teasing.”
“I want to,” Whizzer said quietly. “Answer and settle down with you.”
“What?”
Charlotte and Cordelia exchanged a glance and slipped off to check the pie in the oven.
“We’ll give you a moment.”
Marvin exhaled slowly.
“Well, settling down might be a bit of a strong term for now, but… clarifying the situation sounds good.”
“And… what’s the clarification?”
Whizzer took a deep breath, cheeks flushed.
“I want to date you. Like, officially. Call you baby, hold your hand, touch your face while kissing you, be cheesy with you, and—”
Marvin cut him off with a kiss.
Whizzer didn’t complain. In fact, he cupped Marvin’s head gently in his hands and deepened the kiss.
They probably would have lost themselves right then and there if not for Charlotte’s voice as she re-entered the room:
“Boys! Safety is important, and we don’t have any condoms here—for obvious reasons!”
They split up immediately.
“Don’t look at me like this! We are all adults and I am sure that you have had sex before.” she played innocent.
“But we are glad that you have finally done something” Cordelia joined her “Are you official or we have to leave you alone for another minute?”
They glanced at each other at the same time, Whizze giving Marvin a nod.
“We are. Now, let’s have dinner. But please stop grilling my” he stopped for a second, saying the last world with clear content “boyfriend.”