Cure for a man

A few nights ago I sat across from a guy. He was giving me a manicure. It’s not his only job. He also does ventilation duct work, but it’s been slow-going in that business of late, and he needs more money. He comes from a family of 11 children. He’s smack dab in the middle with five older siblings, and five younger. His parents arranged his marriage when they thought he was ready to move out. He married their preferred girl, moved into his in-laws' house, and now has a nine-and-half-month old daughter. And although he'd like to move out, he won't leave his in-laws stranded. They can't speak English and need his help for the simplest of things.

I was touched by his familial commitment.

So, did it work? The marriage, I mean. I asked him.

He shrugged. It’s ok. What can you do now? He chuckled.

You can NOT have married her, I thought to myself, letting my eyes wander up to the flat screen TV bearing closed captioning of HGTV. But it was now his turn for the questioning.

Him: You have family?

Me: Of my own? Like children? No.
I mean, my mom and grandma were on either side of me. I definitely had family.

Him: No husband?

Me: No.

Him: You live at home with parents then?

Me: No.

Him: You live alone?

Me: Yes.

Him: You go online?


I knew exactly what he meant. He was asking if I was internet dating. I mean, I go online all the time. Facebook, blog, hotmail. But that’s not what he was asking.
Me: No.

Him: Your parents. They sometimes know what’s best. Maybe they pick someone.

I laughed. I’ve seen how that works. I’ve experienced that. They’ve tried. I had images of mom and dad laying in bed, dad with his crossword puzzle in front of him. Mom with a pad of paper and pencil in hand...arranging my marriage. She'd ask dad for input. Dad would "say, sure, that sounds good."
Me: No.

Him: It didn’t work out?

Me: No.

Him: Your grandma. She pick someone out?

Me: No.

Him: You go to church with your family?

Me: No. We all go to different churches.

Him: My family all goes to church together. We’re Catholic. Big families. It happens. Maybe your grandma find someone at her church.

I didn't say anything. I smiled and looked at grandma. No.

Him: You go to D&B? Dave & Buster’s?

Once. Many years ago. In California. I never want to go back.
Me: No.

Him: Maybe you should. Lots of guys.

I'm going to find a guy at Dave & Buster's? And he's SERIOUS! So serious that it was endearing!
Me: No, I don’t think so.

It went quiet for a bit. And then...his conclusion:

So, maybe it is that you’re too picky.

Alright, bud, BUSTER. Finish up that pinky nail! I've had just about enough.

I went in for a manicure and got a cure for a man!
The cure? Mom. Dad. Grandma. If those three fail, then go to Dave. He can do something. And if not him, definitely Buster.
Who knew?