Friday, November 12, 2004

The fix-up

“I almost got you a date today.” Exclaims my aunt as I answer the phone.

“ummm, super?” I say, not really knowing how I’m supposed to react when my family takes to fixing me up.

“It came out of nowhere. A nurse practitioner I work with was talking about her kids, and her son who she said needed someone to “level him out” when I told her I had a niece who was looking for a guy who was “just gay enough.”

“Great…” I think to myself. While that may be the case, I don’t typical admit it to people who find it their “goal” to find me a spouse.

(Note to reader, the last boyfriend, was just a little too gay. Or at least that’s what his boyfriend of 2 ½ years would have to say.)

So apparently my aunt goes on to explain to her co-worker, how I want a guy who can cook, and likes music and theatre. Apparently the co-worker's son not only cooks, but he’s a musician in some sort of band and he also loves theatre. Hmmm… now she’s peaked my interest. Although I’m not sure what good ‘ol Thomas (her son’s name) would have to say about being fixed up with some random co-worker of his mom’s niece. And to be honest, I’m not sure what I have to say about it either.

Last time this aunt tried to fix me up, the guy sent me a couple of emails and I determined 2 things.
1. Anyone who’s favorite movie is Thirteen Ghosts is probably not the best fit for me.
2. Anyone who ends absolutely every written sentence outside of a question, with not just 1 but a couple of exclamation points, deserves to be sent out back and shot.

I made the mistake of telling my mom these two things, who quickly reiterated them to my aunt who I think was probably a little put off. Ok, so I’m picky. I’ll admit it. But really as they say in High Fidelity: It's no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently or if your favorite films wouldn't even speak to each other if they met at a party.

Maybe these are the kind of questions I should have Thomas answer before we ever even attempt the whole horrid idea of a blind date. Or maybe I can just sneak into the club where he’s playing and check out his shoes… I think I like that idea better. Besides if he plays polka, this relationship has no future.


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