I am seriously giving up matchmaking because it’s getting too awkward (yeah, I know…. I can stop anytime I want and all that other addict reasoning…). But, it’s just awkward, and the REASON this awkwardness happens is because I just overthink things.

Seriously.

I can sympathize with all the single girls because I get ALL worked up worrying about my friends’ social lives. And, now, it seems, I’m always on the prowl for attractive men, so I can say things like, “Ohmigosh, you’re really cute – how would you like to date my friend?”

And this sums up how socially awkward I might be, if my husband hadn’t been deluded enough to fall in love with me ten years ago, and patient enough to put up with my nonsense since then. Take, for example, this incidence that happened a while ago.

( Setting: A gelateria at night. A couple in workout clothes stands outside preparing to enter. Behind the counter, a handsome young man converses with customers.)

N (internal monologue): Oh, wow, he’s really handsome. TALK ABOUT LEX, TALK ABOUT LEX.

Gelato boy: Would you like to try a sample of the Mediterranean sea salt caramel?

N (internal monologue): But you’ll look ridiculous. You’re with a MAN; why are you going to start asking someone out? And, you’re in workout clothes. Do you think he’s going to be attracted to the idea of your friend when you’re a sweaty mess?

Husband: Can I try the pistachio?

N (internal monologue): AHHH, you’re missing your chance! Free gelato for life if you can make this work out! Ask him, ask him!

N (aloud): Umm…can I have the pannacotta wedding cake?

N (internal monologue): Ahhhhh! You said wedding cake – now he TOTALLY suspects!!!!! HE’S GOING TO THINK YOU WANT TO MARRY HIM. HURRY. HURRY….USE YOUR RING HAND TO GRAB YOUR GELATO SO HE KNOWS YOU’RE MARRIED TO THE GUY THAT YOU’RE WITH!!!!!!!!

N (aloud): Thanks. By the way, last time I had gelato was ON MY HONEYMOON IN ITALY so you have a lot to live up to.

* * *

At this point, I die of internal awkwardness.

Although, afterwards, we did end up chatting a bit with him outside about fireworks, his hometown and college basketball, I never brought up the whole dating-my-friend thing, mostly because I realized, if he’s 27+ and working in a gelateria, he might not be the very best choice of date for my lovely friend.

***

Or, how about this one? Again, falling on my sword for Lex in her single days and trying to help (read: meddle) in her love life.

N: So, where are you from? (thinking, of course, that I can turn this conversation into a discussion of things in common with my friend, because I am just SO smooth like that.)

Potential-Friend-Suitor: Kansas (state changed to protect me from humiliation).

N: Oh my gosh, I just went to a wedding there (internal monologue: OMGGGGGG, you just said “wedding.” Now he’s going to think you want to marry him! Shut up, shut up, shut up!)

N (babbling): Yeah, I mean, my husband and I went to his best friend’s wedding there and it was the best trip ever and we also went to Chicago (at this stage, my face, ears, neck and arms are as red as a fire truck, or Carrot Top’s curls or whatever the most vehement and embarrassing shade of red that you can imagine might be.) Yeah, anyway, my husband…We’rereallyinloveanditwasagreattripandohmigoshIdon’tknowwhyI’msored.

Potential-Friend-Suitor: Awkward laugh.

And instances like these are why I can sympathize with the single girls of the world. But, if you think about it, this is a worst-of-both-worlds kind of situation, because I get to have all the awkwardness, and I really mean ALL the awkwardness, with none of the dating benefits.

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