A close friend whom I rarely speak to these days (but we play a mean game of phone tag) has always had her own obsessions: Getting into heaven the old-fashioned Jewish way, by making 3 matrimonial matches (and you thought those bubbies did it out of the kindness of their hearts!); making me one of those "matches"; and converting me so that the resulting offspring will also be Jewish.
It's a sickness I'm not sure she'll ever get rid of, and until she does, I'm forced to be the Ace in her back pocket: the Shicksa for all of the Jewish boys that say they're not "into" dating Jewish girls "right now."
Facebook has helped this friend keep her obsession(s) alive with very little intrusion into my own life. Case in point: she recently IMed to tell me that there was a strapping young man who was interested in me. She had forwarded him one of the less-flattering (in my opinion) pictures of me that are on my profile from my birthday (remember the red dress?).
He works for some kind of defense contractor (get in line, pal!) and so could not talk to me directly that day, but had his obnoxious NYC friend "screen" me. And then the man himself and I played some facebook-message-tag. Here's a classic, a message that I think sums up his character, as he represented it to me:
"Tragic news. But as I always do, I will regroup and move forward. Life's road blocks are mere character builders for me: they make me stonger. Like wild chicken.
So your friend Amy is cooking up a little something for us Saturday, I think you should find time between all the heavy lifting to show your pretty face and corresponding sweat stains.
As for my busy schedule as a top secret intelligence official - I am not sure how I even have time to write this. It is tough juggling my online stalking, fantasy sports, g-chat and saving our asses from the terrorist enemy. Man I am good.
Oh - so my point is that i''m not busy and we should get drinks sooner rather than later before you fall for a cuter and smarter version of myself.
So here I lay in my queen size, midnight has struck, and the stomach has settled. It is finally time to turn it over to E, Turtle and the gang. My correspondance will have to terminate.
Can't you see why I was subsequently unable to keep myself from banging down his door? I even politely told my friend that I kind of had my own nice, Jewish boy these days (that I'd found myself, thanks to DS) but she was un-deter-able. She gave the guy my phone number and then he proceded to text message me, too.
Some call it "witty," but I call it an obnoxious and failed attempt to channel Adam Sandler.
Facebook=Friends, NOT dating.
But that's just my opinion.