"But he's going to be out of town for the next couple of months," the shadchan said apologetically. "Would you be willing to . . . Skype?" Her worried tone makes it sound like she's asking me to marry him unseen.
I've never had a need for Skype, so I gamely downloaded it and created an account. On the evening in question, I happily got half-ready for a date.
Let's see, nice sweater . . . I could wear pajama bottoms, but what if I have to stand up for some reason? Shlumpy in-house skirt will do. Hair could be in better shape, but it looked fine enough on the video feed. My hand reached out automatically for the bottle of perfume, but then I cheerfully recalled that Smell-O-Vision isn't around yet.
Merrily barefoot, I arranged myself comfortably on the couch, making sure the background was pleasant, decorative pillows and elegant curtains peeking flatteringly into the frame. I arranged some scholarly-looking seforim on the sofa arm, and fiddled with the video settings to see if I could make the background cozily warmer in tone.
Bloop bloop . . .
After chatting for almost two hours, we bid each other a polite goodnight, and I blissfully pranced off to bed, free from the sometime residual nausea that follows being chauffeured by a fellow with questionable driving skills. Additionally, I felt a wee bit more free to be "myself," that I did not have to worry about comprising my ride home, or end up being abandoned in a ditch.
Seriously, people, this has to be exploited more, at least for the initial meetings. Heck, all my first dates should be Skype dates.
|Via reddit.com, by TimeTraveling Mouse|