I smiled, knowingly

This is actually a mom blog about someone else's mom.

I volunteer sometimes; not as much as I would like to. Recently I've been volunteering in the kitchen of a women's shelter that shall remain unnamed and undescribed for security reasons. That volunteer opportunity is organized through local Jewish listserv, for lack of a better term. More on how I got on that listserv later.

Anyway, I was in the kitchen of the shelter, peeling potatoes, when one of the other volunteers answered his phone, which I found annoying. He initially left the kitchen, then came back in half a minute or so later, still on the phone. This is what I heard:

"Mom, I can't talk now."
"Mom, this is not a good time."
"Mom, I'll call you later!"

I smiled, knowingly.

***

The story of how I got on that listserv is a little embarrassing, but telling it is less painful than studying for my final.

My friend M. and I had previously talked about trying ten-minute dating, just for fun. Back in August, I'd found out about some Jewish speed-dating in celebration of the Jewish version of Valentine's Day, Tu B'Av. It is worth noting that few of the practicing Jews I know have even heard of it. Anyway, it would be a warm summer night on the roof of the Hilton in Dupont Circle; there would be a pool and tango lessons. I thought, "how bad could it be?" One lesson learned: if that thought comes to mind, it can be pretty $%^&ing bad.

I convinced M., who, incidentally, is Catholic, to join me. We thought it would be fun. We thought we'd learn to tango. To our credit, we had the lowest possible expectations in terms of the dating potential part of the evening. Amazingly, the dating potential fell below our expectations.

The event was poorly planned; to make a long story short, the lines to sign up for the tango-speed dating were long as people continued to trickle in, and blocked the dance floor, so prior to the dancing, there was a lot of nervous mingling and dilly dallying. During which a series of guys stopped at the table M. and I had staked out for ourselves, all of which were much older and/or... how should I say this... annoying beyond what you would attribute to someone who's just nervous about talking to a woman. Eventually, the dancing began. I lasted about five minutes, between a crazy woman in a spiky heel who stepped on my foot (and on several others, I'd learned later) and the guy next to me who was taking up too much space. I took M.'s purse so she could dance more freely and sat by the pool to wait for her. It was a beautiful night, so I did enjoy sitting there, but everything about my body language said, "I want to sit here and look at the moon and the city;" nothing about my body language said, "I'd really like someone to talk to/flirt with me, especially someone twice my age." Yet, somehow... well, you get the idea. Anyway, I looked up wearily as someone approached me... he sensed my wariness and said he just wanted to know if I wanted to be on a listserv for Jewish events on the area; I said sure, why not, and now I have a recurring volunteer opportunity, so the evening wasn't a complete waste... but you can be sure I'll stay away from Jewish speed-dating in the future.