Sally in the Zen

Confessions of a Befuddled Zen Buddhist

Match-Made – Conclusion

Click here for last chapter:  Part Three.

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Match-Make #3:

Years had passed since the last episode of attempted match-making.  So when Zen Master approached me with another candidate, I was actually surprised.  I had thought that we were finished but good.

“Why are you humoring this guy?”  I was referring to his friend.  He had called Zen Master about a fella who was looking for a wife.  And the fella was already in the United States, so he wasn’t looking for anything but a mate. 

“Because Zen Mum and I have spoken about this, and we would really like you to meet him.”  Zen Master spoke quietly and without reservation.  “We won’t always be here and we would like you to not be alone.”

I sighed, because whenever Zen Master gets in these moods, who am I to say no? 

“What does he do?”  I asked with resignation.  “Where does he live?”

The answers:  he owned a restaurant and lived here in Maryland.

Okay, let’s stop right here for a moment. 

This was the first time that I had a restaurant owner sent my way, and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.  I HEART FOOD.

But I wasn’t about to lose all self-respect either.

So Zen Master and I decided to pose as customers and eat at his restaurant.  What better way to kill two birds with one stone?

The outcome?  We went, ate his food offerings, and checked him out surreptitiously.

Sorry to say, folks, but he didn’t blow my hair back.  Or Zen Master’s.  His restaurant was ok, the food a bit bland, and him?  I’m sure he’s a fine person but he was dull.  He didn’t engage in conversation with his customers, his demeanor was stiff and he never once cracked a smile. 

How could I ever be with a person who didn’t crack a smile?  And why would I?

Ah, well.  Here’s to always hoping for the best.

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Match-Made – Part 3 of 4

If you haven’t caught up with the match-making drama, here’s Part Two.

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Match-Make #2:

Zen Master was going through our family photo album, randomly holding up pictures of family and history when I walked into the room.

“We have too many old pictures of you in here.  Do you have anything current I can look at?”

My antenna went up and began to buzz.  “Why?”

“I just need a current picture of you.”  Zen Master was still shuffling through the album. 

“Why?”

“Because I need it, that’s why!”  He snarked at me, completely irritated.  “I want to give it to someone because they have someone who may be interested in meeting you.  That’s all!  What’s the big deal?”

“Whenever I give you good pictures of me, I never get them back.  And why am I meeting someone’s someone?  Is he another green card?”  (Green card = foreign person wanting American citizenship.)

“Of course he is!”  He looked at me expectantly.  “Well, are you going to get them for me?”

We go through this rigmarole with the pictures each time he is contacted with new people for me to meet.  He and Zen Mum usually agree to these things in hopes that maybe I’ll meet someone worthwhile, but I never believed in it.  I usually went along for the ride just to humor them.

But I always lose my pictures.

So at the designated time and place, we met the extended family of the fella who was interested in coming to America.  He, like match-mate #1, resided in China, but he knew rudimentary English and was a computer technician.  They took my pictures from Zen Master and gave me the fella’s email address.

So I emailed him to say hi.

Hate to say this, but in the spirit of keeping it real, it needs to be said. 

I couldn’t understand his emails.  There were misspellings and grammatical errors left and right.  And as delicately as I could, I would ask him to clarify his previous emails.  That seemed to set him off, but I couldn’t honestly tell because I still couldn’t understand a word he was conveying.

And that was the end of that.  I stopped emailing him, and he with me.

And I still never got my pictures back.

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Match-Made – Part 2 of 4

Let’s flesh out some things before we continue with the match-making, shall we?

I was born and raised in New York.  My maternal grandmother and relatives current reside in NYC.  My childhood was spent with them until Zen Master, in search of fortune and glory, packed us up and moved down south.  After hopscotching around a bit, we ultimately put down roots in Maryland. 

I don’t smoke.  I don’t drink.  I don’t do beef. 

My order of languages by proficiency is:

  1. English
  2. Spanish – learned in high school but am extremely full of rust.
  3. Chinese
    1. Local family dialect – finally fluent.  Family now can understand me without cringing anymore.
    2. Mandarin – bits and pieces.
    3. Cantonese – not even.

Yes, yes, I am quite the catch.

There were actually four times in my being match-made, not the three that I had originally threw out there.  But it didn’t count because on the same day I was told that someone was already on his way to my house to meet me, he made an abrupt U-turn at the last moment and drove back the way he came. 

Match-Make #1:

I came home one day and saw that we had visitors.  Zen Master and Zen Mum were sitting around in the kitchen with two elderly Chinese ladies who had dropped by purposely.  All eyes fell on me the moment I walked into the kitchen.  And my antenna started buzzing in my head when I saw that the two visitors were giving me a very thorough look-over. 

Uh oh, I remember saying to myself. 

Zen Master made the introductions and the taller of the two ladies slid a picture across the table to me.  I picked it up and saw a young Chinese man sitting on a red moped with his arms akimbo on his chest.  Green card material, people.  If you don’t know what I mean by that, just watch the movie Green Card with Andie MacDowell.  You’ll catch up real quick.

He was the son of one of the ladies, currently residing in China and although he lacked English speaking skills, he wanted to come to America to find a mate.  And he currently was unemployed.

Lovely.

I slid the photo back. 

Giving a look to Zen Master, I walked out of the kitchen.  He told me later that the ladies were impressed with me.  If I were to have children, they would be good-looking indeed, they said. 

I need to focus on more tangible things, like Jet Li and Keanu Reeves.

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Match-Made – Part 1 of 4

Let’s examine some features in the Chinese repertoire, shall we?

Chopsticks.  Check.

Bamboo.  Check.

Cute pandas.  Check.

And my all-time personal favorite…MATCH-MAKING.  Check.

For a Chinese traditionalist, Zen Master is quite progressive.  He’s quite open-minded about many things and fortunately for me, that also includes marriage.  He leaves it up to me to decide if I want to get married or not. 

Ever since college, I’ve been holding fast to an all-looky-no-touchy policy with its one caveat.  Zen Master would be my litmus test if I were to ever contemplate marriage.  So decreed by me after my first and last disastrous relationship in college. 

Not even going there.

Why all-looky-no-touchy? 

  • Because I have a great personality. 
  • Because I have such unbelievably high expectations with marriage.  Astronomical
  • Because I believe marriage is and should be forever. 
  • Because I believe that THE ONE will initially be a friend first. 
  • Because I’m fine going it alone and traveling down the least traveled path.

Because I’m a coward who doesn’t believe in sticking her neck out when it comes to these things.  Besides, touching is such an intimate act of emotional expression, and I am quite reserved with people I don’t know well and like. 

And then that lucky fella would have to face Zen Master.

That should make for some fine must-see TV.

Although Zen Master and Zen Mum never tried to match-make me, that didn’t mean their friends didn’t try.  Three AW-YOU-GOTTA-BE-JOKING times.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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