Try
and imagine sitting in a restaurant: the dim lighting, the boiling
pots of fondue, and the numerous pointy forks around you. You think
to yourself that this would be the perfect restaurant for a date, but
the sight of your mother makes it clear that this is anything but a
date. You realize, before the cheese fondue is done, that it is more
like an interrogation.
You’ve finished visiting colleges in Chicago
and your mother thinks it would be a good idea to eat dinner with her
old college friend. Your mother calls her friend and carries the
conversation as if you weren’t in the hotel room. You stand
open-mouthed at some of the comments she makes; she waves her hand as
if to dismiss you, all the while giving you that look of
Don’t-be-such-a-child
mixed with
I-do-this-because-I-love-you.
So here you sit, across from your mother and her college friend,
in between the friend’s two sons. The two are good-looking. Again
you think to yourself, perfect
restaurant for a date ... if only. One
son, the one to your right, is two years younger than you, but the
one to your left is your age. We share looks of understanding as our
two mothers bombard us with questions of grades, college
applications, and the future. You proceed, before the chocolate
fondue, to have reality crush the stupid spark in your mind. The
subject of relationships comes to the table. The results are as
follows: no girlfriend for the younger one, one girlfriend for the
other (the one who created that pitiful spark), and of course no
boyfriend for you. You figure that the evening has been soaked in
embarrassment, so why not continue? You follow up with a joke (which
inadvertently answers the question why you don’t have a boyfriend).
An atom walks into a
bar. He sits down at the counter, obviously sad. The bartender asks
him what is wrong. The atom replies, “I’ve lost all my
electrons.” The bartender responds, “Are you sure?” The atom
answers back, “I’m positive.”
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