The movie Hitch is one of my all-time favorites. I also loved Clueless. And Emma, book and movie version. So I guess it’s not a surprise that I wanted to write a matchmaking heroine who feels that she herself is a little above the fray.
Colleen O’Rourke, the heroine of Waiting On You, is an expert on all things male. She’s the town flirt, determinedly single, and, as the back cover says, in love with love…except when it comes to herself. Now this was never me, gang. I wanted to get married and have kids ever since I could remember. But Colleen and I do have something in common, and that’s our desire to see the world happily paired up.
Colleen is quite good at this. Me…not so much. But far, far worse is…(insert music from Jaws)…my mother.
Oh, yes. Despite the fact that Mom practically spits on people (me included) who suggest she could possibly date, she hates a vacuum. The woman fancies herself very good at matchmaking. She refers to her “gypsy instincts,” which she uses to guess baby genders, World Series victories and basically anything good that ever happened to anyone. “I had a feeling that would happen,” she says smugly after someone wins a prize, gets a job, finds love.
But honestly, Mom has had zero luck as a matchmaker. One time, she met a woman on the train platform at 125th Street in Harlem, and within seconds, she knew, she just knew, this woman would be perfect for my beloved and very handsome brother-in-law. Barry was game. He called the woman. Met her. Found out that she was 15 years his senior and desperate for children, as the clock was not only ticking but now screaming. Barry left the date pale and sweaty and much, much more informed on fertility issues than he had been an hour before.
Mom fixed up her niece with a guy who came into my cousin’s house, took off his socks and shoes and put his feet on her lap. “They smell gross, don’t they?” he asked. It took some time before my cousin spoke to Mom again.
There was the time Mom met a guy at a bar and decided he would be perfect for her friend. Turned out her friend didn’t want to date a guy who was…you know…connected. To the Mob.
Another time, Mom fixed up her baby brother with her friend’s daughter. The woman entertained my uncle by speaking pig Latin all night. Shockingly, the relationship didn’t progress.
When I told my mom I was writing this blog, we wheezed with laughter. “Thankless boors,” she said. “All of them are still single and miserable, by the way.” Except the niece. And the friend. My brother-in-law and uncle are still single, but very happy, for the record. Maybe we can call Colleen in for a consultation.