Gay Yentas are the worst. I’m sorry, but they are.
I have so many yentas in my life. Like Feras. Feras has tried set me and Adi up for as long as I’ve know him. “Awwww … I see something sweet happening here.” It just makes you wanna reach out and touch him at a very high rate of speed. (I have to be the one to tell him that Adi and I have agreed like the Vancomb woman … “Shaaaaahhhh … You know what? Eeeen Eeeen.”)
Then there’s Dr. Bill. Dr. Bill is actually not a doctor, but I call him that because it’s a play on his chat handle. He is forEVER trying to fix me up online, or encouraging me with people who are nice or smart or sexy, or some combination … but often people I’ve decided just won’t work. (Today, I was explaining my reasons WHY I knew dating a certain someone just wouldn’t work – not to mention the whole Sean thing – and dude was like a yippy-puppy with a rubber toy in it’s mouth. He would NOT let GO!)
So, I’m out last night, and I’m meeting friends and my new transplant friend ABS* … we wind up talking a lot, ABS* and me, and we’re hanging out at the Midnight Sun, when Kitchen* shows up. Kitchen* is the one I pranked with a silly photo of him a couple weeks back (see the Pranks Post).
Well, of course both talk to me … and guess what? Both have an interest in each other. Well, pass me the gefilte fish and call me Sylvia … didn’t I turn into Gay Yenta!
It worked. I’m happy.
On the other hand, I’m sad … we love Kitchen* at the Sun, and he’s heading back to NYC to live in less than 2 weeks. We’ll miss him.
(Reminder: names with an asterisk ” * ” are abbreviated chat handles.)
