The Candidate

“after all, ” my cousin says “you are not getting any younger. after 35, it will be even harder”

i sip my Turkish coffee and say nothing. my cousin has found me the perfect soul-mate. he is Albanian, single, over 35, and looking. and he is so handsome! he is a (what else!) doorman in Manhattan. set for life, you know. and everybody knows that men from that Alb region are lambs, never get jealous except on Fridays, and are always respectful towards in-laws.

i sip my coffee and remember my friend in her frenzy-looking phase, before she proceeded to become pregnant by her Internet sweetheart in Canada, who she had never seen before except on camera. my cousin’s perfect candidate was one of her prospects too. they had one date. as desperate as she was, she was still bored to death and could not remember the date without a shudder.

ahh the world is so small and the circle of single available and sane Alb men over 30 is even smaller. i think i have met three quarters of them at some point or another. well, some damn Yankees too for that matter. New York is so stingy in this direction. i am actually told dating becomes easier in the late thirties, because the 2nd wife syndrome starts around that age.

i start to tell this cousin (twice removed) that i am not interested. it is not easy. she can’t see any reasons why. i mean, she has seen the guy himself and he is absolutely gorgeous. a very good looking man. i am good looking too, but he is far off the charts apparently. and he only has one request, a picture of me, so that he is sure he is not taking a troll for coffee. if he likes my pic, he is ready to come with the ring.

i check the calendar for fear of being time warped. This is the 21st century, right? i look at my cousin, who is divorced from her own perfect mate, a man her family introduced her to, and have no strength to say no. i should start keeping more pictures of me around. perhaps the one in the boob dress? dunno if that would make him guarantee me a ring or a night at a motel.

perhaps i should make headshots, just like actors, with my height, width, eye color and chest size on the back. i should also list my special skills which include compulsive reading, midnight fridge raids and flirting with 85 year old men. would that make me more endearing? maybe his father will put in a good word for me.

i say no again.

“there is nobody else, is there?” she asks, eager to find new fodder for the gossip mill. what can i say? nope, there is nobody else. i date, but i am still sane enough not to admit it to my cousin. it is not my reputation i am thinking of. it is my mom’s eyes full of hope and my cousins all-knowing looks. no excuses.

and yet, i curse my mom for making me so well-mannered, and give my cousin my card to give to the perfect one. i have no pics but he can google me if he wants. i am pretty sure pics of me are all over the Internet.

“all over?” she asks.

“yep. all over” i solemnly affirm. “even the ones with all that leather”

i am of course referring to the pictures from the website of a company i used to work for, which sold furniture leather. but i do not want  to ease her frowning forehead. my patent red business card does not help matters along either. my dear designer friend has done a fabulous job with it. remind me to kiss her when i next see her.

she takes it and then i make my excuses and leave.  we’ll see what the future brings, but hopefully it will not be ex-military school rejects who are still looking for their promised perfect virgin wife (may they find it, amen).


19 thoughts on “The Candidate

  1. I guess i’m thankful that i don’t have a cousin who bugs me about dating someone, or who is trying to hook me up with some gorgeous doorman from albania. But, i can tell you this everytime i call my mom in Albania she keeps pushing me to marriage and i keep telling her, i am still young, leave me alone, but she doesn’t get it. when i call her next i have to tell her a lie that i am interested in someone but than i will give her false hopes and that’s not good either.

    tamam, carje veshesh:))

  2. Hi Bleta,

    I didn’t have your problem. I had another. Some albo men from smwhere in an albforum were trying to give me the feeling I should feel honored to say, without any hesitation, a yes to their interest after me, and please, your pic. My reaction was like yours, and I couldn’t stop finding it ridiculous. So, I allowed myself to behave a bit innapropriate. And I sent pics. I found them in internet. There are tons of female pics in internet. I started to like that game 😉 Even today, if smbody asks me for a pic …. I send one ;)))) Cheers, SM

  3. cool Blete, po te isha beqar po do e kisha provu njehere te martohesha me ndonje qe se njifja fare vetem duke degjuar te tjeret, ne fund te fundit 250.000 leke te vjetra per avokatin e divorcit nuk eshte ndonje gje e madhe krahasuar me morine e ndjenjave qe provon (ndoshta) kur martohesh me nje qe se njef. Une te sugjeroj ta provosh Blete, sincerly. 😀 😀

  4. Blete, I’m looking forward to read about your first date! Mos me zhgenje, te lutem! 🙂
    I enjoyed reading.

  5. Harrove te na thuash… nga ca familje vjen? Sa dhoma e guzhine ka? Si e ka biografine? A ka lavatrice? Ca shkolla ka?

    Cmon, gimme the 411

  6. Blete, you never know what you get, until you get it. And, after all, it could give you material for excellent honey. 😉 🙂

  7. blete, he pra te shkreten na trego, ca u bo? U takuat a jo a? Si dukej? He se si shqiptar thashethemexhi qe jam s’rri dot pa marre vesh 😀 😀

  8. My dear Blete-zzz…marriage is for those women who need men. What use would you have for us poor folk with penile prowess?

    Give up on marriage already…unless you figure out the simple truth: unless you need one, you’ll never get one.

  9. I could think of a few uses, if the alleged prowress turns into reality.
    As for marriage, it is not something that I actively seek, since my fortuneteller predicted me getting married at 35. still have a few free years left.
    But I am a dutiful daughter and gracious cousin as well as extensively trained in the customer service field, therefore I listen, smile and then send out red business cards.

  10. kjo historia jote me kujton nje timen, ne atdhe. Si nje çik e ngelur qe isha, 28 vjeç, fisi me prezantoi me dike (isha e detyruar te pranoja takimin se nuk kisha argumenta per ta kundershtuar. Per me shume qe prindi e kishte bere nje çik modern, une duhet ta takoja djalin vete dhe ta gjykoja/ te me gjykonte perpara se historia te fillonte. Blete kur te vije momente e dashur dhe me ke te duash ti dhe jo me nje qe ploteson kondita paraprake.

  11. Blete po ta lexosh normalisht do te te hipin nervat nga nje fenomen i tille por ti tallesh aq lirshem me budallalliqe te tilla sa qe e injorin dukshem faktin dhe na ben te qeshim. e madhe je, heq kapelen para teje:)

  12. eni, e kuptoj deshiren e te tjereve si per te “me pare mire” ashtu edhe per te eliminuar “rrezikun” e femres se vetme. (bej shaka)
    por hej, on the bright side, i did my family duty, and can be now left alone for a couple of more months.

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