matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Or don't actually, it's fine.

Thursday, June 20


 Unrelated photo, but I really liked this old house in St. George and its garden out back.

One afternoon when I was visiting my family in St. George, the doorbell rang. I was in the living room, Everett was napping and my Dad was working in the other room, so I just went ahead and answered the door. Greeting me on the other side of the door was a man, I would say in his mid-70s, with his polo shirt tucked into his khaki shorts, socks up to his shins and white tennis shoes.

Aaye, who are you? he said. This man was from London.
Oh I'm Michael's daughter. I'm just visiting from out of town.
Hum. Spitting bloody image of your sister, you are. Is your dad home?

Right then my Dad came to the door to greet him and introduce us, but I already knew who he was. This sweet guy and his absolutely charming self was a family friend, infamous in our home for trying to fix my dad up with the single women in town who always had, as he would say, a gorgeous figguh. Today was no different. Michael, he says, I've found the most perfect woman for you, just now down at the furniture store. I was just talking to her. She's never been married, early 40's, gorgeous gorgeous figguh, perfect match. Come on, come on, who's got their shoes on, let's go.

Now, I am not entirely sure EXACTLY how this happened. But apparently I was the only one with their shoes already on, so I volunteered to go. Or his enthusiasm volunteered me? I can't remember. My dad is the nicest guy you'll ever meet, but was basically completelyyyyy uninterested in any sort of special blind date mission. So I was happy to step in, because what else am I good for if not to play matchmaker for my dear ol' dad?? He promised to drive us all the way into town, introduce me to this woman at the furniture store and then drive us all the way back. Retirement's finest work.

I noticed three things as soon as we got in his car. 1. A thick purple drivers seat cushion 2. A large bottle of sunscreen that he proceeded to pull out of the dash and rub all over the top of his shined head before starting up the car, citing that he had never in his life gotten a sunburn and he wasn't about to start now. And 3. The CD cases that were resting in their little nook under the radio. The first, a Barry White album. And the second, simply titled, We Love the Nightlife: Shake Your Booty.
I loved him already.

The conversation on the way over, I will tell you, I have never learned so much about Princess Di in all my life. He never said it, but oh, you could tell he had loved that Princess Di. He talked about his cousin Vivian who had worked directly under her and all the rules that came with working for the royal family. Like handshaking, for instance. The rule was that you were never ever to approach the Queen or Prince Charles with a handshake unless they approached you first. Damn bloody ridiculous, he said. Princess Di never cared about that! She'd shake your hand any day of the week. She was a brilliant woman, absolutely brilliant. We talked about his wife and marriage and entrepreneurship. We talked about miracles and the pros and cons of living in the states. And then we were at the furniture store. I hadn't actually ran it through my head until exactly that moment, how this whole thing was going to go ... meeting this person. Like hey, nice to meet you, I'm here to fix you up with my Dad. See if you're his type? {WHAT IS HIS TYPE} OR, My dad is single and this guy that I just barely met thinks you're the woman for the job. And somehow I'm here too. So. Can I get your number?

This was a baaaad plan. Get in the car. Get BACK in car.

We walked in, and you could tell that he was just ecstatic to introduce me. "Wait till you see her. They're a bloody brilliant match." I couldn't help but adore his enthusiasm. He was totally in his matchmaking element and he was going to find my dad a wife, GOSH DANG-IT ALL. We walked to the counter and he asked for her, but was quickly informed by the manager that she was out on a consult for the rest of the afternoon.
THANK THE HEAVENS I WAS SAVED.

He still got her business card and made sure that I had tucked it safely in my wallet before heading back out to the car again. The ride home was just as Princess Di-y, except this time with a little bit more about his time in Kent County, how he met his wife after he moved to the states, and what he was planning to do with his remaining 30+ years. Really a glass half-full kinda guy. My dad and I, we never exactly followed up with meeting this woman. But I would just like to formally thank her, first of all, for being the whole reason that I got to meet my favorite 70-something-year-old matchmaker, and second of all, for not being there. Thank you, thank you for that.

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