love

matchmaker, matchmaker…

I was peeling sweet potatoes and my daughter was cleaning brussel sprout after brussel sprout after tedious brussel sprout when her phone buzzed with a text from her best friend. It was 10 p.m.

Her friend’s sister, who is a senior resident at a downtown hospital, suddenly had an epiphany: My Christian daughter would be a perfect match for one of the junior residents, who is also a Christian.

So, though it was late and weird, the sister texted him. She asked him whether he is single and ready to mingle, then she asked him what he is looking for in a wife.

“That’s a hard question for me to answer,” he replied, “I tend to think too much. I have to factor in what my life will look like in a year, five years. I really can’t give you a straight answer.”

To which she decisively typed, “I’m looking for tall, dark, handsome, educated, funny and Muslim. That was easy!”

“Dude,” she went on, “I even have pictures. Listen to your senior. This is how Muslims get married.”

I’ll keep you posted on any wedding plans.

 

 

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