Sunday, March 13, 2011

Let's, you know, get set up.

I'm not sure how often others deal with this, but as of late I've had that talk.
You know.
That talk.
Not the exceedingly awkward talk I got when I hit 11 and had to sit with my mother for an extremely brusque talk of Things You'll Just Have To Get Used To Oh Stop Looking So Horrified It's Called Life. The talk that goes a little like this:

Friend: So, I met this guy the other day.
Me: Cool. 
Friend: He's really nice.
Me: That's good.
Friend: Christian, really respectful. 
Me: Uh-huh.
Friend: You'd like him.
Me: I'm sure I would.
Friend: I can introduce you both.
Me: This conversation has taken an odd turn.
Friend: Well, you two would be really good together.
Me: ...

The set-up.
Oh, the set up.
It's happened quite a few times to me. More often than not, I've been unaware of it actually happening. I've had conversations with people where they say, "You've never responded to the guys I've tried setting you up with."
Of course, when I blink at them in confusion and say, "Who the flip are you talking about?" the entire shenanigans are exposed. And most of them? Have happened to become friends instead. One of my best friends is a result of a failed set up, and I'm most glad for that. 
However, the other problem with a set-up?

The virtues of the other person, extolled to such a degree that instantly, the inferiority complex begins to stomp excitedly on my head.
Oh, he's great. Solid guy, solid morals. Definitely's a man. (Defined how, I'm not sure.) He lives on a pedestal built on the moral high ground, surrounded by gold, being waited on hand and foot by a few thousand cherubim. Of course such a man doesn't exist - not that I'm aware of - yet, my gosh, this description props up so frequently that it's mad. Meanwhile, I - on the other end of whatever chat function I'm using, be it Skype or simply texting - am sitting there, going, "Okay. In rebuttal, my qualities... um... I can recite Moulin Rouge beginning to end? No, that's not going to impress anyone. I enjoy theorising about Harry Potter? I highly doubt this guy would find this a great feat."
Then I end up sitting in the corner, clutching Stanley or Bellatrix close to me, whimpering, "I am awesome. I really am. Even if I have no way to back that up, I'm totally awesome! MY GOSH WHAT NOW YOU TELL ME HE'S A WORLD CHAMPION WATER SKIER AND HAS A BANK ACCOUNT IN UGANDA WHAT?"

Don't get me wrong, I have no qualms about being set up. It's fun. I get to meet people, get to potentially make friends. If not, we move on.
One day, though, I'd really like to listen in as someone's describing me.
"My friend Tash? Complete nutjob. Reads way too much, has been known to climb into trolleys on balconies and will wear heels, completely eschewing any sanity. Also, she's obsessed with wedding dresses. Yeah. Wedding dresses."
Something like that, I imagine.

Short but sweet. My thoughts have been derailed.

No comments:

Post a Comment