Epilogue
Simone: So, Maya. How do you feel now that the tables are turned and you’re the one being interviewed?
Maya: Hmm . . . perplexed, discomfited, slightly nauseated?
Simone: Good. Because I’m not going to go easy on you.
Maya: Oh, I never for a second expected you would.
Simone: So, quite a lot has changed since last season aired. Can you please fill our audience in on all the gory details?
Maya: Well, not all the gory details, surely. This is a family show.
Simone: Literally nothing about this is a family show. Last season we went into great detail about vajazzling, if you’ll recall.
Maya: I do recall, Simone. Nothing can erase it from my memory.
Simone: We’re waiting.
Maya: Okay, so. Well . . .
Simone: Yes . . . you can do it.
Maya: So, I fell in love.
Simone: She. Fell. In. Love, people of the world.
Maya: Yeah.
Simone: Can it be true? Did we just slip into a new multiverse? Is this a sign of the end-times?
Maya: Okay. Let’s just calm right down, shall we?
Simone: We shan’t.
Maya: Look, do you want me to tell you this story or not?
Simone: One hundred percent. Okay, I promise to only interrupt when it’s really important. And also to make fun of you.
Maya: Great. So all the time, then.
Simone: Obviously.
Maya: Fine. Okay. So, if you caught up at the end of last season, you’ll know that I met a behemoth Irish farmer with a swoony accent and forearms to die for, and then mostly traveled around Ireland trying to have sex with him, or trying very hard not to have sex with him.
Simone: So, either way, all you were thinking about was sex with the Irish Adonis.
Maya: Correct.
Simone: So, you did . . . have sex with him on the tour, then?
Maya: That’s very private. I’m far too classy to answer that.
Simone: So that’s a yes.
Maya: Oh, one hundred percent. And it was back-cracking, mind-altering, earth-shattering, fuck-you-outta-the-stratosphere sex.
Simone: So, he has the legendary “magic dong” they speak about in stories?
Maya: Dong magic!
Simone: Did you just snort?
Maya: I did. I needed a minute. Yes, this was unquestionably dong magic. Heralds should sing songs about it, with accompanying harp music. Someone should paint a portrait. It’s a national treasure. Truly.
Simone: Will you post a dick pic on the website? You know. For science.
Maya: No way. Find your own magic dong! Anyway, so somewhere along the road, I caught—
Simone: Crabs?
Maya: Feelings, Simone. I caught feelings. But they were every bit as itchy and uncomfortable.
Simone: No one said it was going to be fun.
Maya: Yes, you fucking did! Literally everyone said it was going to be fun!
Simone: Anyway, hurry up. No one is tuning in for your woe is me, I got boned so good that I ended up married to the perfect man sob story.
Maya: Um. Spoiler alert!
Simone: Yeah. Oops.
Maya: Okay. Control yourself. So, to pick up from Episode Thirty-Nine, I flew to Christchurch and waited, having sent Tadhg tickets but not knowing if he would turn up.
Simone: And?
Maya: Well, he obviously did turn up, looking like a damn Celtic god, but that’s neither here nor there.
Simone: I think it’s both here and there.
Maya: The point is, he turned up. And, by doing so, signed his life over for the Love Experiment.
Simone: Is that really what we’re calling it?
Maya: I just called it that, so yeah. The rules were thus: We would throw ourselves into a baptism-by-fire three-week-long date, notably devoid of any string of ancient, ill-suited suitors, and we gave ourselves a deadline—if, by the end of twenty-one days, we didn’t want to uproot our entire lives to be together, then we would walk away and never speak again.
Simone: Of course you did. Because nothing says love is a complicated, nuanced, subjective, and indefinable thing more than a needlessly over-the-top ride-or-die ultimatum.
Maya: I knew you’d get it.
Simone: For those listening at home, I just rolled my eyes so hard that I popped a blood vessel. But do go on.
Maya: Well, it started off well. I surprised him with tickets to the Golden Shears, the world’s biggest sheep-shearing festival.
Simone: That’s . . .
Maya: Stop laughing! Waaah. If you had seen his arms while he lifted sheep in a tight T-shirt. My panties melted clean off me, I tell you. Clean off!
Simone: I mean. I don’t want to yuck your yum. But yuck. Sheep smell.
Maya: What a prude.
Simone: Oh yeah. I’m the problem.
Maya: Anyway, we did the whole road trip, with Fionnuala, the grumpy sheepdog who I adore like she’s a cat, and we visited waterfalls, and rainforests, and the fjords, and saw penguins.
Penguins! Did you know there were penguins in New Zealand?
Real ones. Wild. They swim up the beach and then go to sleep in the rainforest at night. Can you believe it?
Simone: I can’t.
Maya: It’s true. We also went into a cave and saw real-life glowworms that looked like a portal to the fae realm. And so many filming locations for The Lord of the Rings.
Simone: Literally no one is wanting to hear about worms, Maya. Give us the good stuff.
Maya: Fine. So, the thing is, all that unspeakable beauty, and I barely noticed any of it.
Simone: ADHD? Hangover? Stupidity?
Maya: Because by day three, I knew I was so head over heels in love that I just floated around outside my body, and the only thing that kept me from floating away was his hand holding mine.
Simone: Ew, Maya. Let’s try to keep this family-friendly.
Maya: Yeah. Sorry. That’s fair. Anyway, I struggled with myself for a week or so, trying to be levelheaded and scientific about it.
I told myself that infatuation could mostly be blamed on norepinephrine, oxytocin, and vasopressin, etcetera, that would fade sooner or later.
But I knew I was lying to myself. Fuck, Simone. Love, ay? What a dumb mess.
Simone: That’s more like the Maya we know and love.
Maya: Anyway—cut to the end—I had saved our visit to Hobbiton for the end of the trip, because oh my God, but then Tadhg surprised me.
He’d called Jackie, to whom everyone on the planet owes a favor, and Jackie charmed some people and pulled some strings and somehow managed to get them to agree to let us stay in Hobbiton for the night, like it was ours.
Simone: Aw. Okay. That’s really freaking cute. I’ll bet you peed your pants.
Maya: Metaphorically, yes, but luckily not literally, because I was so blown away, and so in love, that I literally knelt down, right there in Bilbo’s house, and asked Tadhg to marry me.
Simone: Wow. Maya Davis, you have changed your tune!
Maya: I have.
Simone: Magic dong.
Maya: Magic dong. So, yada yada yada, I moved to Ireland, I bought a farm adjacent to the land Tadhg had, we merged them, we bought a bunch of baby lambs, I cuddled them, we got married at Kinbane Castle, I wore a green velvet dress with a corset like a goddamn fairy queen, and then after partying all night, we changed into warm comfy clothes, left all you drunken nuts behind, and walked just the two of us to Giant’s Causeway for the sunrise.
Simone: I’m not going to lie. It was the most incredible wedding I’ve ever seen. It was a straight-up fairy tale. There’s a wedding photo on the website.
Maya: Yep. Eat your hearts out, assholes.
Simone: So I guess it really was a numbers game after all. You found your weirdo. You were just waiting for the special weirdo who was made to fit with your particular type of weird to pull the next number at the deli counter.
Maya: Exactly! Who knew?
Simone: Definitely not me. Okay, so, back to the interview, Maya. Next question. Are you still in love? Or did the chemicals fade?
Maya: Oh, I’m a big, soppy mess. Still sickeningly in love.
Simone: And was it worth it? To completely uproot a life that you loved and become a freaking yarn farmer?
Maya: Well, the yarn farming was my idea, actually. Turns out we both loved sheep—total shock—but neither of us liked the killing part of the sheep farming. I have, for most of my adult life, been obsessed with expensive hand-dyed yarn, however, so we’re working on making a business out of it.
Simone: How’s that going?
Maya: We’re only just getting started, and everyone told us not to do it, but I love it and it’s basically all I think about. In a good way. I am so excited about it. I have no idea if we can make it profitable, but who cares? We just bought six alpacas last month!
Simone: What? You didn’t tell me that!
Maya: I knew you’d be angry.
Simone: Just how many pets does that make?
Maya: Well, let’s see. One hundred and three sheep, six alpacas, the formidable Fionnuala, my four cats that I brought from home, six chickens, four ducks, and the two pygmy goats that Jackie gave us as a wedding present—a little couple, so who knows what next season will bring.
So, at the moment, one hundred and twenty-six.
Simone: You’ve totally lost it.
Maya: I want a donkey.
Simone: You are out of control. And what about your parents, Maya? You lived with them for what some would call an embarrassing long and unhealthy amount of time. How are they celebrating? I mean . . . coping?
Maya: Oh, it’s like they’re on their second honeymoon. My mom got into travel hacking, and they’ve been to Tahiti, Malta, and Scotland, and visited us in Ireland three times already. Jackie insists they stay with him, and if I’m honest, I think they visit for Jackie more than me now.
Simone: Yeah, I can see that.
Maya: Shut up.
Simone: So. Tell us that all of this was worth it.
Maya: Just for the pets, yes, it was worth it.
But on top of that, I am madly in love with my magic dong—I mean husband, obviously.
And living in the country has been a revelation.
I hadn’t really realized how much the constant noise and stimuli from the city drained my battery.
In the city, you have to deal with strangers to some extent every day that you leave your house.
In the country it’s just Tadhg and the animals—one and the same, obviously—and I don’t have to mask, or charm, or perform for any of them—ever.
I can just be myself. You can’t imagine what a change that is for me!
I can go into town if I want to, but staying home is like a retreat every day of my life.
Simone: Wow. That sounds perfect for you, actually.
Maya: Oh, it is. Also, because Tadhg gives the best massages.
Simone: Damn, girl!
Maya: I know. I’m a new woman! But while my life has changed irrevocably, I have managed to bring some of my old life here with me!
Because . . . drumroll, please, I am also starting a new spin-off podcast: The Spinster’s Guide to Falling in Love.
And, of course, I’m going to stay on here as The Spinster’s Guide to Online Dating is reincarnated into something new.
Simone: Spoiler alert.
Maya: Spoiler alert.
Simone: Well, I guess that’s that rescue cat out of the bag.
Maya: Do you want to tell everyone, or should I?
Simone: You go.
Maya: Well, obviously, I can’t be the old spinster anymore, so we are here to announce to you, our adoring public, that we are going to reverse roles for this season, and who knows, maybe several seasons, actually.
Simone: I mean, don’t put the horse before the cart. I only signed up for one season. And I’m a lot more lovable than you are.
Maya: Debatable. So, instead of me awkwardly going on a billion dates, it’s going to be the strikingly beautiful and cantankerous-before-her-years Simone de Souza going on all the dates and regaling us with her stories of triumph, unplanned nudity, and humiliating failure.
Simone: Yeah. I don’t know how I got talked into this one.
Maya: Well, you’re moving to Porto!
Simone: A city in Portugal, for those who failed geography.
Maya: Yes, the family seat. It was a foregone conclusion. You gotta test out the Portuguese dating scene! For science.
Simone: For science, dammit.
Maya: You’ll also be so much closer to Ireland for when you want to nip over and fry me up some fake KFC.
Simone: I will literally never do that. Definitely not now that you said it like that, asshole. Anyway, moving right along, is Tadhg there yet?
Maya: Yeah, he’s just walked in and is all furrowed brow.
Simone: Well, get a headset on the man! Because part two of this episode, after a word from our sponsors at Bling Your Blossom Vajazzling Emporium, we’re going to have a couples interview with Maya and Tadhg, in a plot twist none of us saw coming—set up by a matchmaker, just like those interviews Maya did last year.
But before we disappear for the break, let’s give them a little taster to hook our listeners on the line. Anything to say, Tadhg?
Tadhg: Jesus, fuck. I don’t know how she talked me into this.
Maya: Sure you do, darling. It’s a payment-in-kind situation.
Simone: So, Tadhg. Do me a favor and give them a cliffhanger in that accent of yours.
Tadhg: All right, Simone, I’ll play along. But only because I still owe you that pint. So. It all started . . . with a no-good, troublesome, tricksome, unscrupulous, conniving little matchmaker.