It all started in the 9th grade. My grandmother tried to fix me up with a girl from her Church. I won’t say her name because I’ve used real names before. Disaster. They google their name (narcissists), find your blog, and then hate your freaking guts after they read it. That’s why I make sure that I go out of my way to make sure that not one single person that I know comes across any stupid blog that I have ever done. If they do, I have to shut the shit down and then start another one. ugh.
Anyway, I’ll call this girl Shanequa (that’s my favorite girls name). Shanequa was in band with me. She played the clarinet. I also saw her at Church. Whenever I went. Which wasn’t often.
Them: We missed you in Church last week.
Me: Don’t you mean the past 2 months? You’re still dwelling on that?
For some reason my grandmother thought that Shanequa was perfect for me. I was 14. There is no such thing as ‘perfect for me’ when you’re 14. One time my grandmother said – and I’ll never forget this as long as I can avoid memory loss – “I know she’s as ugly as a mud fence but she’s really a nice girl”.
Ugly as a mud fence.
First of all grandmama, nice Christian attitude.
And second. Are you on crack?
Two years later, I would spend a considerable amount of time with Shanequa when we were delegates from Yugoslavia at the Model U.N. She made fun of me the whole time. Grandma had been wrong about the ‘really nice girl’ part.
When I was in high school, people were like, “Why don’t you ever go on dates? You should go out with [insert generic fake name here].”
Why? I can see them at school for free. I need my money for records and McDonalds.
Then they would say, “You’re weird”; which in the 70s meant you’re probably gay but this is the 70s and we don’t know how to talk about or accept that type of behavior yet. I would refer them to the landmark case of Rubber vs. Glue.
By the time the 80s rolled around, everybody had pretty much figured out that ‘girls’ probably weren’t in my top ten list of ‘fun things to do’. Almost everybody.There were still a few of those clueless people hanging around. Lucky for me, my grandmother had gotten off of her trying to fix my up with girls uglier than a mud fence kick and started focusing on her ‘you need to quit smoking’ lectures. Much easier to deal with. That problem can be solved with one simple sentence. “Okay, I’ll stop”.
Eventually people started trying to fix my up with their ‘gay uncle in Michigan’ or ‘friend of a friend of a friend who lives in Alaska’.
Am I so God-awfully and socially inept that I can’t find my own dates? Seriously, stop trying to fix me up with everybody who swishes when he walks.
I’m just trying to help.
No you’re not. You’re trying to be a nosybody buttinski. And succeeding.
With the exception of walking down the aisle with Perry Mason or Magnum pi, I have never, ever had the desire to get married. Some people don’t get that. You can tell them a gazillion times that it’s ‘just not your thing’, but they do not understand.
Everybody needs somebody.
Actually Dr. Phil, they don’t. Some people are quite content with being members of the booty call brigade.
Let’s have fun. See ya on the flip side.
None of that matters. They are still convinced that it’s just a phase (that has lasted your entire life) or you just haven’t met the right person yet.
Even now, when I go out with relatives to a restaurant, they try to fix me up with the waiter. It doesn’t matter that he could be Shanequa’s twin or that he has the personality of a donut hole. It’s always, “He seems nice”.
Newflash: ‘Seems’ does not mean ‘is’.
In the past, I have had relationships. Some of them even lasted longer than 3 hours. When they did finally disintegrate my friends would be like, “What happened? They were perfect for you”.
What happened was they had the IQ of Cindy Brady when she was 6 and no they weren’t perfect for me.
Why do people keep trying to fix me up? Don’t they know that I’m a self-absorbed, shallow, cynical and egotistical malcontent who has no time for such nonsense. *shrugs shoulders*