My sister, a woman of a certain age, was lamenting her single status today. She expressed disinterest in the energy depleting task of repeating her basic history, yet again, to a prospective companion. I made a helpful suggestion, “Have him call me, I’ll fill in the necessary details and save you the time!” It could be so much FUN. Necessary details are, after all, highly subjective. My not quite elderly sister responded in this fashion, “Oh, NICE. Better yet, I’ll just hand out resumés with references!” We laughed hysterically.
I get where she’s coming from. She deserves credit because she’s actually considering making the effort. I wouldn’t be bothered. It isn’t only a matter of interviewing casts of thousands with the hope of an affiliation that is more than ephemeral. It’s the sales pitch, there is no dignity in marketing the self. At this stage of the game why should she have to? The self speaks for itself as it were.
Disasters are waiting to happen. Who knows what the descendants will be like or the lateral family members either; is one expected to fraternize with them? One has one’s own family, that is truly MORE than enough.
How many new habits is one expected to accommodate? Shoes off at the door or traipsing all through the nice clean house? Milk straight from the carton or from a civilized glass? Temperatures too chilly, warm and sticky, or just right? How does one get HIV/STD records authenticated?
It’s a conundrum. The desire to commune with another versus the risk of a ghastly outcome. Chin up Dear Heart, sally forth among the undeserving masses to find what hidden treasure life has passed by for you to discover.