Saturday, July 12, 2008
In the Name of Love
Chicago's Pride Parade takes place every year at the end of June, just down the street. It is a huge affair, wild fun and one of our favorite things to do. We usually wander down with the girls, enjoy the crowd, the music, the madness and then take our cue to leave from Kate when she can no longer tolerate the thump thump music of the floats. Not enough fun, so this year I found an opportunity to date search for my sister. Tooty, as my girls call her, has lived here for almost two years. She is not dating anyone which I tend to think bothers her a bit, from time to time, and I, having no boundaries with regard to personal humiliation, see it as my duty to embarrass myself in the name of her dating.
A lull in the parade gave me the opportunity to talk to two guys standing nearby, one wearing a wedding ring, the other without, but both clinging to their cooler of Miller Lite (personal blech but he's not for me). And no wedding ring guy just looked like a guy for Tooty, and so I decided to ask him (with Mary on my shoulders), "are you married?", no, "are you dating anyone?", no, "would you like to go out with my sister?". Pause. A "what have you got to loose?" from his friend took him to "sure" and we swapped info, my number, her number, and his number to me. Really, if they ended up dating they would have the best answer to the "how did you meet?" question.
He hasn't called, nor has she, which I really think she should do. She has a great opening line, apologize for her crazy sister, blather on about how I embarrass her at every opportunity, and then parlay that into a drink sometime. This has the opportunity to be a great story, and I hate to see a great story go to waste.