No Match Made in Heaven

NO MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

“So, that was fun.”

I looked at my best friend, Vivian, and raised an eyebrow. “Was it, though?” I asked.

We were sitting in the bar at the newest downtown restaurant, Heaven, where she and I had just finished our first-ever speed dating event—one for older singles. Apparently, it was the newest thing for men and women of a certain age who wanted to get back into the dating scene. This was the informal portion of the meet-up, where we could talk to anyone who’d interested us. The last activity before we submitted our date cards to the company, or “matchmakers” as they liked to call themselves.

Viv and I were in our sixties, and had decided to give it a try. Not because we wanted to meet the men of our dreams—been there, done that—but instead, maybe just to some meet new people. It was hard meeting new people at our age. The Senior Achievement Centre, and senior rec programs were about the only places where we could meet new people who knew what an Easy Bake Oven was, and had seen men walk on the moon in real time. Problem was, a lot of the single men our age were trolling for younger women—sometimes even same-age-as-my-granddaughter younger women. So, eww. At least here, at Heaven, we would met ten new men who knew how old we were.

Viv took out her phone, and looked at her “date cards.” Date cards were the electronic record of each of our eight minute speed dates—ten in all. She looked up at me. “So, any matches?” she asked.

I’d picked up my phone, and flipped through the records. “I dunno,” I said, “but there are certainly a large number of no matches.” We either clicked match or no match to indicate our preferences. No matches meant that we didn’t feel the gentleman was compatible.

I grimaced at my date cards, then looked up at Vivian. “Did Chad ask you for a hug?” I asked.

Viv laughed. “He sure did!” She leaned in so those around us couldn’t hear. “Did you get a weird vibe off of him?”

I nodded. “Yup. A weird combination of uber creepy and needy at the same time. He actually pouted—arms folded across his chest, bottom lip sticking out—when I said that I wasn’t comfortable with hugging complete strangers.”

“Same!” said Viv. “Did he tell you that he’d never been married?”

“Well colour me NOT surprised in the least!” We both laughed. “Did you match with anyone?” I asked. A match meant you were interested in furthering one of your dates’s acquaintance. If that person also matched with you, then there would be a sharing of contact information, and maybe you’d meet your forever guy. Not likely, but a girl can hope, right?

“Yeah. I think I liked Clayton. He was pretty high energy, and he liked pickle ball, and bike riding—two of my favourite pastimes. Besides wine.” She laughed, and took a drink of her wine.

I nodded. Vivian was much more outgoing than I was. She thrived on having people around her. Me, not so much. I looked up Clayton’s date card. Ahh, yes. He was one of the cards that I hadn’t completed yet. I remembered him as being outgoing and very friendly. And he had a good handshake. “He was the guy who was divorced, and had just moved to the city after spending thirty years in the suburbs, right?”

“Right!” said Viv. “He said that he enjoyed sailing, and he’d bought a boat, and was mooring it at the sailing club really close to his new place. He said that now he we in town, he’d be able to get out on the water more. So, I matched him.” She may have been blushing.

“I remember! He’s a lawyer, right?”

“Kinda cute, too!” said Viv. Yup, definitely blushing.

I clicked no match on Clayton’s date card. I didn’t want Viv and I to be competing for the same dates. It was unspoken, but I couldn’t think of a faster way to sour our relationship than to go head-to-head over some man—some man we’d known for exactly eight minutes. And if we both made matches with Clayton, how awkward would that be? No, I was good.

She looked up from her phone and asked, “How ‘bout you?”

I swiped through the ten date cards. “Certainly not Emile.” I said. “Did you see the tan line on his ring finger? When I asked him about his status, he sort of mumbled something about being separated, but still living at home with the ‘missus.’”

“That’s right! He said it was for the sake of the kids. I asked how old they were, and he said in their late thirties. No thanks!” We clinked out wine glasses. “No match if you still live with your wife and kids!” We clinked glasses.

“I think Tony should get the Guy Most Stuck in the 1950s award. He was way too much for me! And offensive!” I said. “He came strolling over, sat down before I was finished with the previous date card and said, ‘You married, widowed, divorced, separated, or just an old maid?’”

“He did not!” said Viv.

“He did. I told him he was rude. He told me that any broad he dated wouldn’t be disrespecting him like that.”

Viv’s mouth hung open. “He actually said ‘broad?’”

“He did! And he said that if me wanted to be considered by him I’d better straighten up and fly right, blah, blah, blah. Like I’d date anyone who called me a broad. I told him, in no uncertain terms that I would never date him. Ever. We sat there in silence for the rest of the time, not making eye contact.”

Viv looked down at Tony’s card. “Right, right, right. He was the guy with the toothpick in his mouth, wearing way too much cologne—Aqua Velva after shave, if I’m not mistaken.” She looked up at me and laughed. “He asked me what I’d done to scare off my last man. When I said that I was a widow, that shut him up pretty fast.”

Vivian and I had met in a widow/widower support group three years ago. It was the thing that bound us together.

“What a jerk!” I said, sipping my wine. I looked through the cards. “I did like Manny, but he was really disappointed when I told him I wasn’t very religious. He said that religion was an important part of his life. But he was polite and interesting. We mostly talked about travelling. He said he and his wife used to travel all the time, and now that they’re divorced, he finds it too lonely to travel by himself.” I sighed. “He’d make a good travel companion, though. We’ve been to a lot of the same places.”

“Ah, Manny!” she said, looking at her screen. “He was really nice. He actually let me talk!”

I snorted. “Unlike Kirk,” I said, shaking my head. “Man, all he wanted to do was tell me how fantastic he was—big house, big cars, big career. So many big things!” Kirk had sat right down, ignoring my outstretched hand. He’d gone on and on and on about himself. “Big ego!” I said. “It was a wonder he could make it through the door with a head that big!”

Viv snorted. “Don’t make me laugh! I almost snorted wine out of my nose!” She grabbed a napkin and gently wiped her mouth. “How about Eldon? What did you think of him?”

I found Eldon’s card. “He was sad. His wife had died recently—really recently, like in the last six months. He said that his friends wanted him get out and try new things, and not sit around the house moping.” I sat for a moment. Eldon had all the signs that I had seen in myself—a bone weary sadness, a wistfulness when he spoke of his wife, and emptiness that I’d never seemed to be able to fill. “I don’t think he’s ready.”

Vivian nodded. “I agree. He told me she was fine, then she died. Some sort of debilitating disease. She was gone in weeks.”

“All that talk of his wife screams not ready yet. No, that man needs more time to heal. Any woman who hooks up for him is going to feel like there are three people in that relationship.”

We both sat there, remembering—remembering when all we could do was talk about our husbands. It was almost like we needed to keep their memories alive. But, honestly, no one wanted to hear all about our dead husbands. That’s what therapy was for.

“I gave him the name of the group and the address. I told him what nights they meet.”

Vivian smiled gently. “That’s nice. It’ll help him.”

“I hope so. I told him how much it helped us.” I paused changing the subject. “What about Matt and Kevin—the two guys that came in together. I think they’re friends.”

Viv brightened. “They are! I happened to be eavesdropping in the lobby when I was registering, and they were definitely buds, like us, and I think they are both divorced.” She looked down at her screen. “Kevin was the blond guy, right?”I nodded. “Yeah, I heard him say something about a bet they had going. I think they’re trying to see how many women they can get matches with. The one with the most, wins.”

“Rude!” I said, clicking no match for both Matt and Kevin. “Both were nice, but they were trying too hard. They sounded fake and insincere. But now that I know it was on a beat—no thank you!”

“Right? Matt told me I’d have a great time if I matched with him.”

“Me too! And Kevin said he’d like to get to know me, but I’d have to match for that to happen.”

“Jerks!' Vivian no matched both of them.

“That leaves Timothy,” I said. “But before we finish up, how about another glass of wine? My treat.”

Vivian smiled, and held up her empty glass. “Hit me!”

I grabbed the glasses and headed to the bar, ordered and paid. While I was waiting for the drinks I noticed Manny. He was leaning against the bar, watching the crowd. “Hey Manny,” I said, happy to see him. “How did you like your dates.”

He smiled. “Annabelle, right?” I nodded. “Not horrible.” He smiled shyly. “Actually better than I thought it would be. Only three women asked my if I own my own home, and how much money I have in the bank.”

We laughed. “Would you like to join us at our table? Maybe we can compare notes.”

“Sure!” he said.

When we got back to the table, I slid in beside Vivian, and Manny sat across from us. “So, any good dates, Manny?” asked Vivian. “Any matches?”

“I’m afraid not.” He smiled. “But, I must say that the both of you were, by far, my best dates of the nights.”

“Thank you!” we said, almost in unison.

“Overall, though, I was a little disappointed. There were no women who felt that religion was an important part of their life. I’m a cantor at my synagogue, so religion is a big part of what I do. I had hoped to find someone who shares my spirituality.” He shrugged.

Vivian looked at her phone. “There are Jewish groups but …” she trailed off.

“They are for considerably younger people.” He smiled. “I’m almost seventy. What do I have in common with someone who’s thirty years younger than me?”

“Exactly!” I said. “That why we attended this group. To find people who have the same life experiences as we have.”

He nodded. “I did have a few odd encounters tonight, though,” said Manny. “One woman wanted to read my palm. I let her. Apparently I’m going to fall in love with a woman who, coincidently, looks exactly like her. Another of my dates said I was cute, and asked me if I wanted to leave and go to her place, right then and there. I declined, gently. She seemed fine with that and we chatted for the rest of the eight minutes. And, one woman kept rubbing her foot up and down my leg. Every time I moved back out of her range, and she’d slide farther down in her chair. By the time the bell rang, she was almost lying on the floor!”

We all had a good laugh. “Did anyone ask you for a hug?” I asked, curious.

“Yes!” he said. “Three women stood up for a hug when I came to their table, instead of a handshake. That was really weird.”

We told him about Chad. “Well, he probably got his hug-on tonight, so good for him.” I said.

Vivian laughed. “Can you imagine, matching based on liking hugs?

“Weirder things have happened!” said Manny.

We had a good time talking to Manny. After about an hour, he said his goodbyes. Vivian and I exchanged phone numbers with him. We were going to try and get together for a mid-week hike.

After Manny had left, Vivian looked down at her phone. “I did match with Timothy,” she said. “But I think I’m going to have to change that.”

“Why?” I asked, knowing the reason.

“He looks like Joel.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I noticed that.” I had never met Joel, and had only seen photos of him, but I had noticed the resemblance between Joel and Timothy. Joel had been killed in a hit-and-run, and it has shaken Vivian to her soul. They had been together for over forty years, had three kids and four grandkids. They were happy, enjoying retirement. Then he was gone, and Vivian was alone.

“Yeah. It was weird. I knew he wasn’t Joel, but I he looked so much like him. And he sounded like him as well. I felt like I had to tell him about everything that has happened since he died. But he wasn’t Joel. In fact, he was almost the anti-Joel.” She looked wistful. “He’d been married three times, and was currently renting a condo downtown. He said he loved the downtown vibe and loved going to all the clubs, and the amazing restaurants—everything that Joel tried to avoid. I think I just got caught up with his familiar face. It would be a mistake to date him just because he looked like Joel.”

I hugged my friend. “Yes it would be. You’d be disappointed that he isn’t Joel, and Timothy would be confused because he isn’t Joel. You made the right decision.”

As we got up to leave, I looked around the restaurant. “What do you think about Heaven?”

Vivian looked around the restaurant. “Pretty good. I’d come back for a meal or a drink.”

“Me too.” I paused for effect. “Except I there was no match made in Heaven for me tonight!”

We laughed and strode out to our waiting ride-share