I published this post a couple years ago. Since I’m currently with my non-matchmaking friends in Nashville, I thought you might enjoy reading why I’m thankful for that…(No offense, matchmaking friends.) So no, this trip I won’t be coming home with an up and coming country music star…
You’ve gotta love my tennis friends. Now that I’m single, they’ve been madly trying to hook me up at tennis tournaments with just about anything in shorts.
I keep telling them I’m perfectly happy but they appear to have selective hearing. Also, I’m beginning to seriously question their judgment.
Even though they have my best interests at heart, my friends’ choice in men hasn’t been what I’d call stellar. I don’t consider myself particularly picky but I do have certain basic requirements:
1) He can’t be older than my grandfather, if my grandfather were still alive.
2) We have to live within the same state.
3) He should be of sound mind and body, although both are negotiable.
Having said that, I’m not looking and definitely don’t feel the need. But tell that to my friends.
Take Annette, for instance. At a recent out-of-town tennis event, she came downstairs at the hotel and saw me reading in the lounge near a man she apparently found attractive and “perfect for me.” (Is she psychic or something?)
So I’m sitting across from her and she’s nodding her head in his direction, trying to be subtle but not succeeding. She later said, “Why were you sitting there reading when you could have been engaging that handsome gentleman in conversation?” Hey, it was a good book.
Annette even has her husband, Tony, on the hunt for me. When a guy moved in across the street from them, they quickly found out he was single and wealthy (I guess that gave him bonus points). Annette could barely contain her excitement as she told me of their meeting and how sweet he was, yada-yada…
Their bubble burst a few nights later when she and Tony saw him at a local restaurant and also met his good-looking life partner, Paul.
Then there’s Kathy. God love her, she’s funny and fearless. Unfortunately for me, she fancies herself a matchmaker. Let’s just say the woman is clueless in the Significant Other department, although she’s been happily married for 25 years. All the better reason not to trust her judgment; she’s been out of action too long.
So again, my team is at a tennis event and Kathy’s on the prowl for me. She stopped almost every guy who walked by and asked if he was single. If he said yes, she chatted with him a while, deciding whether he’d be a good prospect for me. You don’t believe me, but it’s true.
Actually, I was on court and not aware of Kathy’s attempts at matchmaking until I looked up toward the stands to see her next to a man, age 70 if he was a day. She was pointing toward me, I kid you not.
The guy wore knee-socks, tennis shorts that barely covered his sagging butt cheeks, and one of those brimmed hats old men wear when they fish. He may have even had a cane.
The saddest part, though, is that he was nowhere to be seen when I came off court (so much for my self-esteem). Now don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against the elderly and decrepit, I just don’t want to date them yet. Give me another 20 years, please.
Kathy also says I’ll never find a man if I keep riding my scooter…says it’s the opposite of a man-magnet. I guess that would make it a man-detractor? Oh well, I’m a scooter kind of gal, thank you very much.
To prove her point, the last time I left the tennis club, Kathy had a group of gals line up along the driveway and give me either thumbs up or down as I scooted by in my burgundy helmet, tennis bag on my back. It was a tie vote; I’m keeping the scooter.
My observant friends noticed and became excited. That ended when we, coincidentally, sat next to him (and his date) at dinner that evening.
I’m starting to notice a pattern and it seems tennis is the operative word here. I suppose we better stop traveling to tournaments. It’s apparent these sojourns cause my friends to become hyper-vigilant in finding me a Significant Other.
Anyway, I appreciate how they worry about me being alone. But the thing is, I’m not lonely. I have a full, happy life. No need to worry about me. Now I just have to convince my tennis friends of that – and preferably before next week.
That’s when we head to Arizona for Nationals. God knows who they’ll find for me there.