Posts Tagged ‘matchmaking’

relationships // present

You’d think I would have learned my lesson about matchmaking. I’ve had a few epic fails that should have forever discouraged my efforts.

Perhaps I persevered because I assumed it only applied to romantic endeavors. Well, as it turns out, it is just relationships in general. Just, matching humans with other humans that I am bad at.

This past weekend I attempted to link two of my favorite couple friends. I thought, we love these people. Why wouldn’t they love each other? We all have kids about the same age, we’re all fairly liberal-leaning, we’re raising our kids in similar manners, we are somewhat similar in income levels, no one is too snobby but we’re all a bit snobby in just the right ways 😉 Everyone is in a committed relationship that works for them. Perfect, no?

I pictured renting a house by the lake in the Adirondacks every fall, a winter cabin in the Catskills where our kids would build snow people and drink hot cocoa. We’d all take turns going out on date nights, we’d drink wine and make elaborate, decadent meals. We’d be the dynamic six! Raising kids, working hard and still making friends in our thirties!

Well, best laid plans.

Perfect, dream world, fantasy stuff. That’s what that was.

Turns out my super-awesome friends who I adore and want to share do not so much adore one another. How this could be true, I do not know. They are all — all of them(!) — wonderful people. Like, friends forever folks. But, then again, my two best girlfriends are friends (in air quotes) who, I am quite sure would cease to even attempt to maintain the illusion of friendship if I were taken out of the equation.

Why is that Sex and the City foursome so incredibly difficult to actualize. Who are these people who like each other all exactly the same amount? Four besties. Who has that? I have all these wonderful friends but I get them in a room and my teacher friends don’t know what to say to my college friends and my musician friends have no clue how to interact with my mommy friends and then add my husbands friends (who have now become my friends) into the mix and it’s just a shit show of awkward exchanges and crappy small talk.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m guilty of it too. I go to my husband’s friends’ weddings and I have no clue what to say to people. I use my daughter as an excuse to get out of any conversation that isn’t going well. “Oh, darn. She’s gotta go potty. Talk later…” or “She’s getting so tired, I’ve really gotta get going. Great to meet you…” I mean, it’s bad. Who am I? What have I become? I used to pride myself on this social crap. I was the queen of banter. The master bullshitter. I could hang with anyone. Rich, poor, liberal, conservative, old, young. I was the puppet master. Now I use the cheap, I’m sorry, my mouth is filled with hors d’ oeuvres so I can’t talk to you, excuse. Or the, I see you coming for me so I’m going to duck into the other room to grab my phone which is probably, no, definitely ringing. Silently. But, I am expecting a call. So, I’ve definitely got to grab this, trick. The eye aversion, what a delightful chandelier. The, I see someone I actually know beeline. The, excuse me I need to ______ (use the bathroom/get a drink/find my husband) line.

I have no idea what happened. It’s not for lack of confidence or a lack of topics to discuss. It’s not because I don’t find the people interesting or because I think I’m better than anyone. It’s just pure laziness, I think. Really. Honestly. It’s the, I am so fucking tired and the last thing I want to do is chit chat, reality of adulthood and parenthood.

And, so maybe this is the problem with my couple friends. It’s not a wedding reception but it’s kind of the same idea. I already have friends. I’m already stretched too thin between my job and my kids and the few friends I do have so why would I make time or put forth any effort to extend my circle to include people who’s company I may (or, more likely may not) even enjoy? I get it. It’s a bummer. But, I get it. I feel the same way. I just have selfish motivation for creating these bonds. All I want is a damn cabin in the woods and a few friends who get along to split the cost. Is that really too much to ask? Sheesh.

relationships // past

I am no Yente. Or, maybe I am. Wasn’t she terrible at her job? I can’t quite remember. The point is, I am not good at matching people. In fact, I suck at it.

In college I tried to set up two friends of mine. They liked the same bands and were about the same level of hotness. They were both fashion-conscious but not fashion-obsessed. Both pianists, born one month apart. They each spoke two languages and had mixed-race parents. From my perspective they seemed like the perfect fit. How could they not like each other? And, of course, they had me in common. They both liked me, it should follow that they would like each other.

In retrospect, perhaps it’s that they were too similar. Or, perhaps it’s that there is so much more to falling in love than having things in common.

Whatever the reason, it was a complete disaster.

“What could EVER have made you think I would like him?” Ari asked me the next day.

“What do you mean? He’s not hot enough?” I asked.

“No, that’s not it. He’s cute,” Ari offered.

“He’s really smart. He just moved here from California. Maybe he just spoke more slowly than you’re used to.”

“No. No, he’s definitely an intelligent guy.”

“Was he a dick? I don’t see Colin being a dick. Were you a dick? Shit, Ari. Please don’t tell me you were mean. Were you mean?”

“I wasn’t mean. But, I don’t think there’s any question as to how I felt..”

“You were mean. Did you crush him? I’ll kill you if you crushed him. I don’t understand. What was the problem?”

Apparently, it was the opposite of love at first sight. Yuck at first sight, maybe? In another world, had they met in a music class or at a show it might have been different. Maybe they’d have talked and discovered how much they had in common. Maybe they’d have been friends. Not lovers, for sure. Clearly there was no attraction. But, friends perhaps. As it was, I had to make promises to both of them that they would never end up in the same room together. I don’t think they even wanted to be in the same borough.

For reasons I still don’t understand — despite the fact that it was clear from the get-go that there was absolutely no connection — they felt compelled to go through with the entire evening. From start to finish. Which would have been no big deal if it was a movie — which can be enjoyed in silence — and dinner, where you can spend most of the night with your mouth crammed full of food. Alas, it was not. It was a complicated, perfect gay New York evening which had been planned down to the last detail and lasted from eight o’ clock to midnight. Four hours of socializing with someone with whom you felt no inclination to date or even to get to know. Drinks at some dive-y, dingy bar in the east village. Cock? Something phallic-sounding with naked bartenders. Then dancing at Barracuda in Chelsea and on to a performance art “gallery” and a late-night meal at some pop-up bar/restaurant/club in the meatpacking district. It was all way too cool sounding, even for me (a punky, artsy, barely-twentysomething).

Maybe it was too cool for Colin too. When I really thought about it, Ari was edgy. Colin was quiet. Ari liked to dance. Colin liked to watch dance performances. Ari hardly ate whereas Colin loved a four-course meal at an expensive restaurant. Ari made moody, piano music and Colin was happy listening to Sondheim.

What was I thinking? Of course they were a terrible pairing. They seemed so good on paper but when you broke down the nuances of their interests, looked a bit more closely at the details, you would see that in actuality, they had little in common. And, their “perfect” date night probably could not have been more different. I’m guessing Colin wanted to run scared at the sight of the bartender in his skivvies at their first stop in the village. I imagine it was all downhill from there. Awkward dancing where Ari probably flirted with everyone but him. Some strange performance art in which a woman screams at you whilst sitting atop a pedestal, a crap “meal” in some pop-up that was probably located in a shipping container off the West Side Highway or a giant warehouse on a cobble-stoned street in the meatpacking — which still reeked of actual rotting flesh back in those days. Colin probably thought he was being taken somewhere to be murdered. Those neighborhoods looked pretty different in 2003. Not scary but after dark “sketchy” wouldn’t be too far off base. And, especially to someone new to New York.

I think Ari intended for the night (if it was going well) to stretch into the wee morning hours. The really interesting spots weren’t even getting started until well after midnight. Thankfully, he’d held back on those details and left Colin to fend for himself around 11:45. Colin hailed a cab and made his way back to his friends apartment off union square. He called me two days later, confused and slightly traumatized.

“Ari was a bit…intense,” he said. Code for crazy. “He certainly likes to party,” he continued. Code for, he’s way too hardcore for me and also, he cuh-razy! I forget that people are one way in their friendships and another way in their romantic endeavors.

“I’m so sorry,” I groaned. “I heard a bit about it from Ari.”

“Yeah. Shit. I can’t really imagine how it all looked from his side,” Colin confessed, feeling embarrassed and low.

“Oh my god, it’s not you. It’s one hundred percent my fault. You two were not right for each other. You are sweet and thoughtful and you don’t have to enjoy cock in your drink to enjoy cock in your…well, you know what I mean. Listen, you deserve someone who will give you a night you’ll enjoy. Theater, dinner at an actual restaurant with signage and like, chairs and stuff. Ari’s pretty wild. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.” I felt so crummy. Colin felt rejected and Ari was pissed at me for wasting one of his Friday nights so that he could “babysit my friend.” It was an all-around disaster.

Never again, I swore. I will never try to set any of my friends up again.