My Mom, The Amazingly Good Matchmaker

By

My Mom, The Amazingly Good Matchmaker
A blind date leads to a short-lived love affair and lasting friendship.

"Morty" quickly became "Morty, the Short Balding Accountant," because, after all, my mom couldn't disprove it. (It was at this point that she said, "the worst that happens, you make a new friend" to which I, a beleaguered junior lawyer at a soul-sapping Manhattan law firm, snapped, "I don't even have time to see the friends I have!") Still, she must have sensed my flexibility on that point, seeing as the bar for "new friend" had recently been satisfied by a guy I'd agreed to meet for dinner based on the fact that he'd seen me on a plane and eavesdropped enough information to get my phone number through my law school alumni office. If Plane Stalker could get the nod, I guess I could make time for Morty, who may or may not have been a short, balding accountant. Besides, now it wasn't just about me, or my mom—now my actions had consequences for Natalie, Sheila, Cathy, and Marcy, too. For the sake of them, I figured it couldn't hurt. I awaited his call.

And awaited, and awaited—what, this Morty was too busy to pick up a phone?

 

A week went by, then two; thoughts of Morty were lost in piles of due diligence binders and all-nighters fueled by Diet Coke and take-out. In fact, I was so close to the edge that when a long weekend suddenly opened up I impulsively decided to take an impromptu trip, just buy a ticket and get the hell out of Dodge. I was trolling Expedia, deciding between Palm Springs (where my Canadian parents flee every winter) and Sweden (where I used to live) when the phone rang.

"This is Rachel," I said, in my best lawyer voice.

"Hi, this is Morty," he said, snapping me back from daydreams of strapping blond Nordic men. Swedes are very attractive. "So, you're Cathy's friend?"

As it happens, I was not Cathy's friend; the last time I'd seen Cathy was in 1987 at summer camp, where she was the drama counselor. I remembered her yelling at me once during rehearsal when I ran offstage mid-scene because someone had walked in with a pizza. Was Morty was under the erroneous impression that someone in that crazy set-up chain actually knew me? Yikes. Maybe he didn't actually know that he was calling his sister's friend's mom's friend's friend's daughter. If so, he was already one up on me.