"Since _____ may be an issue, I wanted to run it by you first," she said.
"Uh-huh." My gut is not happy. "Okay, um, let me look into it and I'll get back to you."
Out comes the tablet, my parents looking on in delight. Flick, flick, flick. "She said that he didn't go to movies and went to learn in Israel in his 20s, so he's probably not on Facebook . . ."
My searches are coming up blank, even though his occupation should have given me something. As a last-ditch effort, I punch his name into Facebook. Ah! There he is. Ouch. Wait, lady, you call that yeshivish? Ew, that picture is gross! There are privacy settings for a reason, dude!
"Check this out." I brandish the screen before the folks' shocked faces.
"Well, that's a no, then."
I politely wait a second day, pretending to be researching thoroughly. Then I call. "I'm looking for someone more . . . serious."
"How did you find out so fast?" she says.
Huh. Not an effusive "What do you mean, of course he's a serious boy!" She actually said, "How did you find out so fast?"
"Oh. I hope you aren't offended."
Well. Not even a faked "I don't see how one date can hurt." She took the effort to call me up with a suggestion that she knew was problematic.
That's it, people. I'm not believing nobody no mo.