Date & Dish

Yesterday, after work, I call my Mom to find out that she was at the dentist.  It’s important to understand that I’ve known our family dentist since I was five years old.  My Mom and Dr. B have been trying to find me a nice Jewish husband for years now.  Both of them have this conspirational tone when they talk to each other.  So, as soon he hears that she’s talking to me, Dr. B grabs the phone from my Mom and we chat. 

“So, did that guy Bruce ever call you?” 

“No, Dr. B, he never called me.”

“Oh, he told me he called you.”

“Well, I guess he lied, Dr. B.”

“That’s ok.  Do you remember my son, the doctor?  He’s single.”

I told him that I did in fact remember his son and asked him if by any chance his son is an infectious disease doctor.  He said yes, that he calls himself the “Orkin Man for People.”  (I find that little moniker a bit disturbing, but I let it go).  Then he asked me how I knew that his son was an infectious disease doctor and I said that I believe he had written me on Match.com.

Dr. B says, “Natch?  What the hell is Natch?”

“Match, Dr. B. Your son wrote me on Match!”

“Oh!” he says. ”My son is online?  Did you write him back?”

“Um, well, not exactly.”

Dr. B couldn’t believe a. that his son was online and b. that I didn’t write him back when he wrote me.  Poor Dr. B.  I heard from my Mom later that evening that Dr. B quickly placed a call to his son to get the details of our exchange.  Oy.  I have a feeling this is not the last I will be hearing of the Orkin Man.