I been set up!

Coversations I had on the bookends of this past weekend got me thinking about the set up, where well-meaning people try to play cupid for their friends, often with disasterous and hilarious consequences.

The Friday conversation was where I was told that a friend wanted to set me up with a coworker of his (why do these things always seem to involve coworkers?), but it didn't take. That is, she wasn't too keen on the idea of being set up. I understand this, actually. Even the slightest hint of YOU TWO WOULD BE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER usually ends up putting more pressure than almost any one date can bear. It's doomed before it starts, as they show up to the date to find someone who's just good looking instead of gorgeous, just nice instead of an entertainer, just a drummer instead of a singer. Which means that almost every time, the best case scenario is that it's just a date instead of anything at all meaningful.

Kind of a shame, really. My parents met on a blind date setup, and in one of those, "Wow, my mom is actually a human being with feelings" moments in my teen years, I found out that her first reaction when my dad opened the door was that he looked really stuffy and businesslike. Things worked out well for them, obviously, and look at the hell they unleashed on the world. But now I'm flattering myself.

Monday's conversation made me realize that there's other parts of the setup that can make it unattractive. The first one is when you know someone who won't give it a rest, and they'll go on and on about how they've GOT to set you up with SOMEONE. And while it's nice that they're thinking of you, it's a little bit insulting. Getting set up because, "I know someone who I think you'd get along with" is really nice. Getting set up because, "Good God, we've GOT to find some SOMEone before you shrivel up and die a lonely pile of bones in your kitchen and don't get found for three weeks!" isn't exactly good for the confidence.

On the flip side of that is when you know someone who's a serial setup artist, but never seems to think of you. On one hand, you get to avoid the above scenario, but on the other hand, you wonder why you're being overlooked, which is a great way to find yourself caring about something you really don't care about.

All those conversations moved me to watch my Netflixed copy ofBefore Sunset, a brilliant movie which made me think about the closest thing I had to a Before Sunrise moment: I was on a plane from Cinncinati to Salt Lake City in '93 and I sat next to a beautiful woman who was on her way home to Boise. The conversation was a little awkward for a few minutes until it struck me that I would never, ever see her again. She apparently realized the same thing, and we ended up talking like old friends for the rest of the flight, making fun of the inflight movie (Free Willy if you're keeping score at home and want to make crude jokes). We didn't exhange addresses or anything (also out of the realism of knowing that we'd never be able to get together again), but it was an incredibly romantic non-romantic moment, one that I'll never forget.