Sexless in the City

Sometimes reading romance novels doesn’t quite prepare you for a love life...

For this 30-year-old urbanite, love is always a misadventure: The Harvard Lickwit, Hippie the Groper, the 5% Man, and the Ad Weasel. These and many other men wander in and out of her life — but never her bed.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Help from the grandparentals

This was too good to pass up. So a few minutes ago, mid-gossip with Best Friend, I take a cell-phone call that proves to be from my grandparents. While we stay in fairly good touch, it is extremely unusual for them to call me. Typically such contacts are indicative only of great excitement and urgency on their part (such as the one time Grandma called me from their for-emergencies-only cell phone to have me email a New York-based friend of theirs whom they hoped could help me get a job. She had just emailed with her contact details so I could do so).

Today’s Matter of Merit? Apparently the grandparents have been listening to Focus on the Family with James Dobson this week, which has featured a two-day series called “The Search for a Godly Spouse”: “One for girls, one for guys,” my grandma tells me. Evidently they were so impressed by the series, Gramps and Gramma decided to order me up a copy! But then the techno dilemma: on CD or tape? Hence the urgent and unexpected phone call.

How they’ve gotten the notion that I need to find a husband, I have to say I am a bit worried. I mean, other than the recordings of Dad’s Navy stories he and Mom recorded a few years ago — at the beginning of which they both chimed, “Hi kids, it’s Grandpa and Grandma here!” (Anna buries face in hands) ... generally there hasn’t been much pressure-from-relations to marry. Obviously they’ve done some calculations, however. She is 26. Maybe if God won’t bring her a job, He can at least bring her a husband ... Not that I’m exactly opposed to the underlying goal — obviously I, too, hope the Matchmaker Upstairs has marriage in mind for me — but when grandparents get involved, I find it inherently worrisome.*

So I dropped The Hint. You see, where my grandparents are concerned, a highly specialized P.R. campaign re: Anna’s life is required. Thus my grandparents hear not about the “Relationship Expert” job I applied for, or that I’ve spent most of my unemployment devoted to prolific blogging instead of job-searching; they hear about my successful forays into contract knitting and catering and of course, any and all interviews. As long as I can offer numerous talking points comprising current prospects (possible sales from my photo show), successful thrift and resourcefulness (such as the desk I refinished), they seem to remain content that God is indeed providing for me and I’m doing OK.

So too it is with my love life. Fortunately this requires less-frequent maintenance than the job search, but tonight seemed to require another update. So, I mentioned the blog in most general fashion (Grandpa on blogs: all a bunch of gossip) and reported the remarkably positive result that blogging “... about dating ...” has resulted in that modern-day miracle, a Christian date for my upcoming wedding-guest duties. It remains to be seen how successfully this red herring has been trailed, but a tape or CD is still en route to my mailbox. More reports on that broadcast to come.

*My sister would no doubt conclude that in the absence of any likelihood she’ll be settling down soon, all grandparental concern about non-procreating offspring is now concentrated in my direction (aside from an also-single cousin in her early 30s, I’m the only other grandchild of more-than-marriagable age). And indeed, Broadways are known for being prolific: the grandparents had 4 kids, the average number of their children’s children is 4, and my fellow grandchildren have had about 2 kids, on average.