Match Not Made in Heaven

When I was 22, I was living out of state to finish up my college degree. It had been about a year-and-a-half since I had dated anyone. Apparently, a friend of mine thought that was entirely too long for me to go without looking for a mate. She was in her upper 30s, had four young children, and was always telling me that I needed to get married and have kids before I was old like her. This friend of mine--we'll call her Sari--said that she had someone perfect in mind for me. We both loved kids, we were both churchgoers, and I think that the fact that the guy she had in mind was my age and from the same state was high on her list. I agreed to meet up with the guy (I'll call him Jim) during my Christmas break. It worked out that I was going to go to Sari's house on a Sunday afternoon to meet him. Nothing big was planned; we were just going to meet, hang out at Sari's, and go to a Christmas pageant at their church later that evening. About a week before I went home for Christmas, my best friend and I had a huge falling out. Because of this, I was so nauseous all the time that I was unable to eat; the day that I was to meet Jim was not any different. As I was leaving the house, my mom asked if I was feeling all right. Actually, I was feeling horrible. But then again, I had been feeling that way for about a week. After about an hour's drive, I knocked on Sari's door. There he was: the man that I was destined to marry. I took one look and wanted to run away. He looked like an old man. He dressed in clothes that my grandfather would wear, and had glasses that would rival Harry Carey's. But I stayed because I had manners and first impressions can be wrong. The date was so boring; all he talked about was cars (mostly Buicks and Oldsmobiles) and the college that he was attending. It was as if he not only had absolutely no sense of fashion, but no personality, either. Sari called me into her bedroom to see what I thought of Jim. As we were talking, the subject of my best friend came up. I guess I began to look a little pale, because Sari asked if I was all right. All of a sudden, I threw up all over myself. I'm talking hair, clothes, pantyhose, floor--everywhere! Sari was gracious and helped me get cleaned up so no one would know. She even let me brush my teeth. But because I was feeling better, she really pushed for me to go to the pageant that night. I decided that I would go, but that I should leave right after it. I was fine until about three-fourths of the way through the pageant, and then I had to rush out of the sanctuary to the nearest bathroom, which had only a single stall. A woman had walked bathroom just before me, saying, "I'll be just a second; I just need to fix my hair." I didn't want to be rude, so I went into the boys' bathroom right next door. At least I made it to a toilet that time! After a few minutes, I was fine, but I didn't want to leave without telling everyone goodbye. So I hung around the church until the pageant was over. Sari helped me find Jim so I could tell him that it had been nice to meet him. As soon as I said that, he repeated the phrase and practically ran out of the church. Apparently he had had as good a time as I had. Never again will I go on a blind date!

— Julia, 25

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