But a few dating horror stories, a reminder of the realities of the apps, and suddenly marriage appears positively blissful by comparison, even if you were googling divorce lawyers on the way in. (An opening gambit one potential suitor sent after matching with my mate lives rent free in my head forever: “I want to smell your breath.”)
“Everyone listens, laughs and maybe even finds a spark,” they explain on @pitchandpairnyc. Tickets sell out fast, as this is clearly brilliant. It’s so much easier/less cringe to talk up someone else rather than yourself, plus everyone gets to see each other’s friends, so gains the added insight which checking out social circles supplies.
My first match ended in a hook-up, which definitely took place more out of obligation and politeness to me rather than any attraction on the part of either of my victims. Learning from this, as all professionals must, I embarked on my second foray by lowering the stakes. Instead of guaranteeing an earth-shattering, enduring love, the likes of which neither had experienced before, I told both people this was probably more a one night stand thing.
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Once I went in to fix-up a partnership with a neighbour who’d happened to mention wishing her son could find a nice partner in my presence. I had a single friend the same age, with the same colour hair, so they were exceptionally well-suited. The logistics of matchmaking are quite a nervy business, even before you involve the mother of one of the people you’re attempting to set up.
Luckily in this case I already had a snap of my friend, so could send it to the neighbour to forward to the son without her… let’s call it knowledge rather than consent, eh? He liked what he saw, and rightly so, then his mum gave me a photo of him to show my friend. After 0.2 seconds’ deliberation, I cropped out his flip-flops. No, it wasn’t dishonest – if they became a couple she would remove them from his life much faster than I had from his picture, and be doing him a great service to boot (no pun, etc).
Reader, she did not marry him. Turns out you can take the man out of the flip-flops but you can’t take the flip-flop energy out of the man. I remain undeterred obviously. Wonder if she fancies a trip to New York…
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