MARY ANN FITZMORRIS / L’Observateur / November 27, 1999

Call me Cupid. Or is it Stupid? To early to tell, but I just arranged a blinddate for two unattached friends. One is a very good friend, and one is avery old friend. Not him; our friendship is old. In fact, he has thedistinction of having rescued me from datelessness for my senior prom.

I’m returning the favor; I think.

Anyway, this is all such fun! Reminds me of high school, only it’s much better since I’m just looking. The female side of this match, my goodfriend, is disdainful of my optimism. She moans, “Dating IS great fun,except if you’re the one doing it.”Bad attitude, but I ignored it. When I saw this man at a recent reunion, Iimmediately thought of my friend and the possibilities. I pitched her,outlining all her attributes. My husband verified my account, a bit tooenthusiastically about her legs, I thought.

I’m a realistic Cupid. “There’s only one problem,” I confessed as I warnedhim that she’s been burned once bad enough you can practically smell the charring. “No thanks,” was his reply, as he courteously accepted thecryptic note that included her phone number.

Months later he surprised me by calling to ask if the offer was still there.

I relayed this to her, and pitched him. I couldn’t remember his hair color,but I assured her he had some. I’m a realistic Cupid, so I warned her abouthis black mark. “No thanks,” she replied, as she told me to have him call.So it is with mild suspicion that both approached their first meeting. Iwas so giddy at the prospects that my woman friend even became suspicious of me and my motives. At one point she even asked, “Why areyou so in to this?” I tried to explain to her that when married people have His and Her pet names of Mommy and Daddy, the idea of fresh romance is thrilling, even if you’re just watching. Especially if you’re just watching. It’s sort of likeaudience participation in an old Doris Day flick; it ain’t your heart on the line.

I tried to imagine the terror of a first meeting, especially at this age, and I recalled something my husband said shortly after we were married.

“One of the best things about marriage is that it settles one of life’s big questions – getting a date.” That man is such a romantic!Romance was obviously not a high consideration for this first date, either.

When I asked my girlfriend about the plans, expecting them to be catered to the mutual interests of these two people, I was disappointed to hear that the basic starter date package is the same as it was 20 years ago, dinner and a movie.

My friend admitted her disappointment but decided not to appear too challenging, at least not right away. This conversation reminded me whata good thing it is that I’m not available on the dating market because I’d fare as badly now as I did then, and for the same reasons.

The big date went exactly as I expected. Both verified my account of theother, and he was much more open to the future possibilities. I knew itwould take a dynamite blast to make fissures in her heart, but fortunately this daunting challenge escaped him.

And they did discover a great source of mutual entertainment. (No, notthat one.) Somewhere in the evening it was decided that they wouldconcoct a truly elaborate deception for me. So, the next day she calledwith a report so gushing and out of character for her that only a dummy would believe it. . . I did.She told me exactly what I wanted to hear. It was conceivable that theymight have hit it off so completely; they were well matched. I told myhusband she sounded 10 years younger.

The next day we met for breakfast and I told her she looked like a different woman. She listened to me gush for a while, and finallyconfessed they had made it all up, not thinking for a minute that I’d actually believe it.

Maybe I’m an unrealistic Cupid. Or is it stupid?Back to Top

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