The only person NOT trying is my own mother
In the past 48 hours, two relative strangers have tried to marry me off.
The first one was the owner of my dad's favorite Mexican restaurant, Maria. My parents were some of Maria's first (and best) customers (and still are) and I went there with them yesterday for dinner. Maria spent ten minutes trying to figure out who she could hook me up with. She guessed, based on what I do for a living, that I was, at most, 27 years old. Sadly, the eldest person on her potential list was twenty. And her son. Who is... not my type.
The second one was a woman that has rehab with my dad. She was chatting with my mom and me today about the fact that my mom always wears cute clothes and asked if I was my mother's fashion consultant. (I am.) She mentioned that she had a granddaughter who was fifteen, and asked me how old I was. I know it's a request that's a pain in the ass to honor, but I did it anyway because I was curious.
"Guess."
She replied instantly. "Sixteen."
"I love you," I said.
For those of you playing along at home, I am thirty-one.
The woman laughed. "I have a grandson who's eighteen," she said to my mom, "and I thought, hey, he'd probably like her! Wow! Thirty-one?! Wow!" My mom laughed back.
Hey, I wouldn't say no to an eighteen-year-old.
Maybe this is why I'm single. Guys see me and go, "Woah, jailbait!"
There is a nurse that works at the medical plaza where my dad has rehab though that I (and my mom) have my eye on. I saw no ring on his finger. I should tell Maria. If anybody could make it happen, it'd be her.
The first one was the owner of my dad's favorite Mexican restaurant, Maria. My parents were some of Maria's first (and best) customers (and still are) and I went there with them yesterday for dinner. Maria spent ten minutes trying to figure out who she could hook me up with. She guessed, based on what I do for a living, that I was, at most, 27 years old. Sadly, the eldest person on her potential list was twenty. And her son. Who is... not my type.
The second one was a woman that has rehab with my dad. She was chatting with my mom and me today about the fact that my mom always wears cute clothes and asked if I was my mother's fashion consultant. (I am.) She mentioned that she had a granddaughter who was fifteen, and asked me how old I was. I know it's a request that's a pain in the ass to honor, but I did it anyway because I was curious.
"Guess."
She replied instantly. "Sixteen."
"I love you," I said.
For those of you playing along at home, I am thirty-one.
The woman laughed. "I have a grandson who's eighteen," she said to my mom, "and I thought, hey, he'd probably like her! Wow! Thirty-one?! Wow!" My mom laughed back.
Hey, I wouldn't say no to an eighteen-year-old.
Maybe this is why I'm single. Guys see me and go, "Woah, jailbait!"
There is a nurse that works at the medical plaza where my dad has rehab though that I (and my mom) have my eye on. I saw no ring on his finger. I should tell Maria. If anybody could make it happen, it'd be her.