Singleitis
If there's one thing worse than a blind date, it's a blind date that you're unaware you're being set up on.
One of my aunt's best friends lives in town and occasionally invites me over for dinner and cocktails with her family. Considering that a) they're amazing and b) they live down the street from Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman, their dinner invitations are rarely declined.
Monday night, I'd been invited for Tex-Mex and homemade margaritas and arrived promptly at 7:00. I knew that something was up when the very first thing Mary said when she answered the door was, "Oh good! You look cute!"
I arched an eyebrow and asked what she was up to, to which she responded, "Oh, nothing really. I just invited another friend for dinner. I think you'll like him!" I groaned and told her she'd owe me if I ended up having to babysit a train wreck.
My "date" for the evening arrived shortly thereafter and proved to be a 29-year-old investment banker who was cute, if not a tiny bit shy. Luckily I can talk to a fencepost so conversation flowed nicely...and I only caught him looking at my chest a total of three times.
But STILL. I'd arrived under the auspice of being fed a good meal and getting to lounge on the couch with Mary and a bottle(s) of wine to discuss work, men, books we were reading, places we wanted to travel, etc. NOT to make small talk about the house Mr. Banker Man just bought in Green Hills and what we both did for a living.
I don't know what it is about older married people, but most seem determined to "cure" everyone they know of the "singleness disease". Like we're all somehow wasting away without the presence of a significant other and they are our fairy godmothers, come to rescue us from a life of perpetual loneliness.
Christ. If I had to bet money, I'd say Mary probably gave him my phone number. Maybe (fingers crossed) he's smart enough to realize that since I didn't give it to him personally, he shouldn't call. But for the next week or so, a random number flashing across my cell phone screen might cause minor panic.
One of my aunt's best friends lives in town and occasionally invites me over for dinner and cocktails with her family. Considering that a) they're amazing and b) they live down the street from Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman, their dinner invitations are rarely declined.
Monday night, I'd been invited for Tex-Mex and homemade margaritas and arrived promptly at 7:00. I knew that something was up when the very first thing Mary said when she answered the door was, "Oh good! You look cute!"
I arched an eyebrow and asked what she was up to, to which she responded, "Oh, nothing really. I just invited another friend for dinner. I think you'll like him!" I groaned and told her she'd owe me if I ended up having to babysit a train wreck.
My "date" for the evening arrived shortly thereafter and proved to be a 29-year-old investment banker who was cute, if not a tiny bit shy. Luckily I can talk to a fencepost so conversation flowed nicely...and I only caught him looking at my chest a total of three times.
But STILL. I'd arrived under the auspice of being fed a good meal and getting to lounge on the couch with Mary and a bottle(s) of wine to discuss work, men, books we were reading, places we wanted to travel, etc. NOT to make small talk about the house Mr. Banker Man just bought in Green Hills and what we both did for a living.
I don't know what it is about older married people, but most seem determined to "cure" everyone they know of the "singleness disease". Like we're all somehow wasting away without the presence of a significant other and they are our fairy godmothers, come to rescue us from a life of perpetual loneliness.
Christ. If I had to bet money, I'd say Mary probably gave him my phone number. Maybe (fingers crossed) he's smart enough to realize that since I didn't give it to him personally, he shouldn't call. But for the next week or so, a random number flashing across my cell phone screen might cause minor panic.
posted by Rachel at 12:10 PM
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