Mom, you are the worst
Last weekend my mom was telling me about this guy who works in one of the other showrooms in her office building. Telling me he was my type; 6’6” (I like them tall), elegantly disheveled hair (I like running my fingers through really great hair), 5 o’clock shadow (yep, that’s a big one), dorky fashion sense (cardigans, well fitted jeans, chucks, nerdy glasses). I can definitely confirm that physically this is pretty much my type.
Then yesterday she was telling me about when he came into the showroom to pay her a visit. She was telling him about me; 5’8”, long blonde hair, nerdy style (a lot like what was described above), my love for Chris Hardwick (which he also likes), love for local Minneapolis music (he’s also a fan), obsession with British movies & television (mine being Doctor Who & Sherlock, his being Harry Potter). He was shocked that everything she was describing he was also into. That she had him pretty pegged. On paper we were sounding more and more compatible.
So this is sounding really great, I’m getting excited, everything Mom kept on listing sounded better and better. And then the very last thing she tells me is the he is planning to become engaged to his girlfriend of 2 years (which she actually knew before she was describing all these things to me). So thanks Mom, describe this wonderful guy that I was getting excited to possibly meet, and then just rip him right out from under me. You’re the best. I mean worst.