Match(less)Makers
You know it’s a big mistake telling some people you might now be thinking of getting “involved”. Drop ‘em just a hint and trust me you’ll soon wish you hadn’t…
Actually back in the boring old days when I was a quiet little mouse nobody really bothered. Well apart from one night back during my university capers when one of my friend’s girlfriends thought it’d be cool to set me up with her housemate down at the Student Union by sitting us next to each other where she then proceeded (along with the rest of our crew) to observe us the whole night like we were something off Wildlife On One. To be honest they had more chance of seeing Halley’s Comet come round twice than anything happening here. I mean her housemate was lovely enough but also a bit haughty with it; plus back then I was still way too insular and shy re things like this (and far too stuck on that other girl I once told you about too), so it all came to nothing except an embarrassed smirk which merely earned a disdainfully cool response (and an abrupt turn of the head) by return.
What really gets me about matchmaking though is how when some of your friends try it on you, they get it SO wrong. And I tell you what, it does start to make you wonder too what such friends really think of you. I mean if we go back to that student moment again, what made anyone think Mr. Mild Mannered Me was into Miss I’ve Got My F*****G Nose In The Air I’ll never know. Take another time a few years back where I went to my friend’s usual new year shindig, something I perpetually turned up to alone (and admittedly would often feel a bit crap for too). Anyway on that particular night I was told, rather excitedly by both my friend and his partner, that over in the corner was someone I might like to chat to, their clincher being “…and she likes Star Wars too.” Like that was the big selling point then. I mean my God, was my situation that drastic I was reduced to chatting up available women just because they liked my favourite movie when it looked as if apart from that there wasn’t very much to sell; like talk about plain and dull, at least I said boo to geese; this one probably avoided them all together (I later saw her on the train a couple of times and shamefully kept my head down).
So why do couples try and set you up? Because it makes them nervous to see someone mingling in their airspace unattached, particularly when one gives off the air he doesn’t really give a monkeys about that any more, which I guess has been me ever since I started my “second life”. They really don’t like it do they? It whittles away at their own smug togetherness and reduces conversations to the proverbial, “So are you seeing anyone at the moment.” Or worse you start getting this reputation of a “ladies man” (something I’m always surprised to hear about myself, even now) or even a “dark horse” – I mean why does being single automatically make one a “dark horse”? Do single people operate in some kind of underground movement then that those attached steer clear of? Are we a criminal conspiracy of self-sufficiency?
I do remember once being out to dinner with some friends (a couple) and their friends, and their friends’ friends where somebody asked my friends (the couple – stay with me here) if they’d like to go to dinner sometime too and then turned to me and said, “And do you have a girlfriend?” to which my negative reply earned the rather outrageous, “Well when you get one you can come to dinner as well.” You can just see me all but rushing over to their place when this happens can’t you!
Worse than pals though are family; particularly mothers wanting grandchildren. Once the radar’s up for friends or acquaintances with available daughters, nieces, third cousins and unattached next door neighbours, that’s it! Suddenly it’s “She’s an accountant too…” or “Well there’s no harm in taking her number and perhaps maybe meeting up for a drink?” I generally avoid such scenarios like the plague.
Anyway such thoughts have also come about due to what happened the other night. That other night was another dinner party with me happily turning up on me tod with a bottle of champers for the hosts and an agenda-less brief. I mean it’s not all spontaneous shagging in theatre loos with me you know. Well, I’d hardly had time for a handful of nibbles when I overheard my friend’s wife (also now a good friend too to be fair) draw another comrade aside and point to a loitering, curly blonde with the words, “She’s for him…” (obviously meaning yours truly). Oh God! She really didn’t look my type; younger, fairly too serious, probably not even a Star Wars fan.
When we all sat down, we were introduced; I said “Hi”, she said “Hi”. And that was the end of it. We never spoke again. Why. Well she had her oh so sensible buddy to chat to instead. Meanwhile I happened to find myself next to a rather nice South African woman, early forties, accompanied by her loud, lardish husband who, even as he proceeded to regale the table with his pomposity and really bad jokes, would keep whispering asides to me along the lines off, “He never used to be like that,” (referring to his size as much as his vulgarity). The more we got chatting, the more I couldn’t help myself, particularly as it was distraction from the unsettling green-eyed Dane of a few days previously. And naturally we were bonding; she was really classy and even reminded me a bit of Jane too (probably not a good thing). In fact I even got her number in the end. Just for a coffee though.
So I guess I was somewhat erroneously matchmade after all wasn’t I? I mean I do think there was an attraction of sorts but… well you know the rest, and where it would shortlived-ly go. Thus again I’m not going to call; I’ve really got to stop doing this sort of thing now.
And I’m NOT calling that accountant either…
By Bastian Dash Read his adventures on your personal homw page…
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