OurTime is super excited. "You have 110 new profile views and 15 new messages!" it writes, as enthusiastic as a prospector finding gold.
Although weeks earlier I had dropped my membership and checked "do not automatically renew," the online dating site continues to send me these cheery emails. I imagine it — and JDate, another of my experiments — somewhere in cyberspace clucking at my resistance.
"What's her problem?" I hear the OT yenta say. (Naturally, if I were going to use my imagination to conjure my pesterers, they wouldn't be coders using algorithms to find me a match. In my zany brain, the two sites are women wearing babushkas, like old-world matchmakers eager to arrange a shidduch between two lonely singles.)
"She thinks she's so high and mighty," sniffs the JDate version. "I fixed her up with four eligibles, each one a mensch, and did she appreciate? Vadyathink?" (Excuse the ethnic patter; but, I'm Jewish so it's allowed. Also, I can't seem to stop.)
Now, here's where my imagination takes another leap. Although these two figments are in cyberspace, and my mother, Min, is in heaven, I figure she can't resist getting in on a conversation where her daughter is the topic.
"Don't look at me," she says. "I tried, told her to be sexier and younger in her profile. But, did she listen to me? It's just like when she was a teenager and...."
"Min," the yentas interrupt. Evidently, they have easily accepted photo-shopping her into the picture and chat. "Please stick to the subject. It's the present day. Your 76-year-old daughter, who is not getting any younger, is the one we're trying to fix up. Forget about the past."
With that, and without validation for her vote, Mom fades out and we're left with OT and JDate.
"Obviously, we're using the wrong approach," OT says to JDate. "She's not buying our daily e-mails. She knows that if she clicks on them, she'll be asked to rejoin."
"We can't let her get away," JDate says. "We don't want to see our CityGirl go through life without a man."
OT laughs. "She was CityGirl with you? Hah! She was Tiny75 with me."
I allowed this silly scenario to enter my brain because I was also wondering why I had put the brakes on my search for a significant other. As the yentas indicated, I did go on dates with four eligible, honest, and wholesome males. Although sparks didn't ignite, based on this positive experience, why didn't I continue to seek a match?
The answer: I found another passion, one as all-consuming, thrilling, and with the possibility of a life-changing outcome. If you are a steady reader of this blog (a shonda if you are not), you're up to speed on my decision to test-drive Los Angeles for a possible move to that city.
"She's delusional." It's one-half of the matchmaking pair intruding on my rationale. "You know once Tiny75 gets to L.A., and sets everything up, I predict that within a year, she's going to need another challenge."
"Oh, you're so right," says JDate. "And then she'll write about it, just like she did about our sites, mocking our sincere desire to link pathetic singles."
"There is some consolation," JDate continues. "She'll start writing about L.A. and although the first few blog posts will be rah-rah — the sunshine, her new friends, her family..."
OT interrupted. "Oy, be prepared for her glowing reviews of her grandchildren. How smart! How handsome! How polite! I don't know if I can take it."
"But knowing Tiny75 — who will soon be Sun-Wrinkled76 — we won't have to wait long for her beefs to surface."
JDate erupts in giggles. Soon she is rollicking. "She'll be slamming the tall and skinny starlets sipping their lattes at her precious Intelligentsia."
"What about the 20-somethings working on their screenplays? I can't wait to read her critiques of them!"
"Hold on a minute," JDate says. "Those writers are likely to be Jewish, right? Maybe a few will have widowed grandfathers to match with our old girl? What could entice her back into the fold?"
"'Still drives' always works," OT says. "And, if we throw in 'at night;' she's hooked."
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