I was not actively looking to date, but when I heard the message from the director of the matchmaking service I had hired almost a decade ago (and had not spoken with in over eight years), I was intrigued. And surprised. Not only because it had been so long since I last spoke with her, but because our last call had been to tell them, in no uncertain terms, I was done with them. I had even considered retaining legal counsel to get my money back but realized my attorneys might end up costing me more than the fee I had paid.
Hindsight should be 20-20, but at the time I put my membership on permanent hold, I thought it was because they were not listening to what I said I wanted in a potential relationship. (Do not get me started on the difference between "hearing" and "listening.") But the reality? They are a business and are playing the numbers game. They take your money, arrange the required number of dates, and if your requirements are fairly generic, can probably "match" you up. If you are a little more challenging (or have deeper pockets), they attempt to upsell you to a VIP service.
So, I agreed to their proposed date, and as I told my sister the morning after,
We met at about 6:30 p.m., and the conversation flowed easily, with many shared interests and attitudes (even politics, even though I have been told that is never something to talk about on a first date). Before you knew it, we were closing the place down four hours later. We had talked about this website, and he wanted to know how to find it, so I gave him my business card. And, he gave me a gentlemanly kiss on the cheek when we parted at valet.
And?
Later that day, the service had one of the administrative assistants call me for a debriefing. They apparently had a checklist of questions (what did we discuss, how long did the date last, what did I think of his physical appearance, etc.) and concluded with whether I would see him again. I hesitated, saying that I would – but that my gut told me I was probably not what he was looking for in terms of a romantic partner. (When I told Red the same thing, she said I still should go out with him again and see.)
So, imagine my surprise when the director of the matchmaking service called me late that afternoon, leaving a message that she wanted "to gloat." When we ultimately spoke, she told me that she was right when she thought that we were perfect for one another. That he had said he really enjoyed getting to know me, that I was a "firecracker," and a very interesting person. She reiterated how good she is at matchmaking, and that I should keep her updated on how this develops.
I have not heard from him. And, if not for the director telling me differently, I did not expect to as I did not think I was what he was seeking. But, imagine if I had gotten my hopes up and was anxiously awaiting his call.
So, I wonder … should I call her and merely leave the message,
How do you retract "a gloat"?
It's a running joke in my family that the only reason I go to the movies is for the popcorn. And while that isn't 100% true, it's probably close, as I can't remember a time when popcorn wasn't an essential part of the experience.
I can still remember seeing Mel Brooks' "Young Frankenstein" when it was first released (in 1974) at the Massapequa movie theater, which was literally at one end of an old strip shopping center. It bore no resemblance to today's multiplex cinemas, and the concession stand offerings were very limited. It was dark and a bit dingy, and the seats were old and uncomfortable. But I didn't care because the popcorn more than made up for it. And while I sat through multiple showings of the movie (it's still one of my favorites), I was grateful my dad had given me enough money to buy multiple popcorns, as in those days there was no such thing as the big bucket, let alone free refills.
Fast forward, and some things never change...
First, I ask them to fill the large bucket "really high, please, I haven't eaten all day, and I'm starving." Ok, so I probably did eat earlier, but I need an excuse for asking for a ridiculous amount of popcorn, don't I? Which takes me to the next part of my routine. If the bucket's filled to the point of overflowing, I know exactly the pace to eat it so that it lasts for almost the entire movie. (Trust me, I'm not kidding!) And then, the final part of the routine … I don't start eating my popcorn until the movie begins. Not the coming attractions— the movie. (Unlike Black, who races to finish her small size popcorn by the time the movie starts as if it's something to be ticked off a "to do" list.)
So, think what you will, but for me, the popcorn's a critical part of what makes going to the movies so enjoyable. And has become an amusing memory for my youngest daughter and me, as many years ago, when we were in the concession stand line, she asked me what size popcorn I was getting,
I love you, honey, and you're so smart, but that may be the silliest question you've ever asked me. And, quite possibly, will ever ask me.
To this day, she still remembers it, and although she no longer lives at home, when she hears that I’ve gone to the movies, she’ll jokingly ask me what size popcorn I got. And in the same breath, answer the question. Because she knows that there’s only one answer.The biggest bucket available.
Every time we see the photo above of our "guinea pigs", it brings back such fond memories. You may be thinking, "What? Are they calling those students guinea pigs?!" Well, actually, yes. And before you think ill of us, please know that we use the term with great affection, deep gratitude, and utmost respect. And these eight amazing seniors from the Class of 2010 know that's our nickname for them because ...
We started calling them our "Guinea Pigs" as soon as they volunteered to help us develop our Red & Black Personal Finance and Life 101 program at KIPP Houston High School. It was important that they knew this was truly an “experiment”, as neither one of us was a teacher or a financial expert.
It all started at our first speaking engagement, when during Q&A a woman asked why the topics in our book weren’t taught in school. The next thing we knew, we were sitting in the office of Bryan Contreras, Director of KIPP Through College, and being asked not only to develop, but also to teach, a semester-long personal finance and Life 101 course to their high school seniors. During their spring semester. (Yes, the months right before they graduate.) While Red looked like a deer in headlights (we barely considered ourselves authors, let alone teachers), Black responded as she often does, with a simple:
Sure, not a problem.
While Red went home to carpool and baking cookies, Black did what she does best — use her corporate and business experience to tackle the challenge. So, she requested a "task force" of seniors to help us develop the curriculum because, as she put it:
If it is not relevant, why bother? And, who knows best what is relevant to high school seniors? High school seniors.
Black introduced them to the business concept of a working lunch (which might also be considered a pizza bribe), and we met for five Fridays. We gave them a list of select book excerpts they were expected to read each week so we could discuss what they thought should be included in the curriculum. That first week, they seemed motivated to help — but we weren't sure what to expect.
They came back excited and totally committed, with two of them having read the entire book and the rest having read much more than the assigned excerpts. Luckily, Red had been a straight-A, copious note-taking student. However, she could barely keep up with their comments and feedback, let alone the side discussions generated by the conversations in our book. You could see their interest in personal finance (and many other Life 101 topics) was strong and genuine, and they explained that learning from the mistakes of others was extremely powerful. One student, after prefacing his comment with apologies, stated:
When I grow up, I don't want to be Red.
We'll always be indebted to our Guinea Pigs for their enthusiasm and suggestions, as using our book as the textbook was their idea, not ours. And through their feedback on the book and the lessons they were already learning from it, which began at those pizza lunches, the answer to how best to "teach" a Red & Black class was obvious to them. It was as simple as a book club. For us, it took a little longer to come to that realization as we were hampered by our own preconceived notions about how lessons are taught in a classroom. So, although the initial intent may have been for us to be the teachers and them to be the students... we learned from each other.
P.S. – For those of you interested in a more "educational" look at our detour into the world of education, including "feedback" (student quotes, Black's "non-scientific" surveys, and KIPP press releases) from our two spring semesters when we "taught" at KIPP Houston High School, please check out An Unexpected Education Detour ...
Red loves to stop and reminisce. Black prefers to look forward.
But even Black will admit that sometimes there’s value in looking back — it reminds us where we came from, the detours and roadblocks we have managed to navigate, and that we may be stronger and more capable than we give ourselves credit for. Sometimes, it’s a lesson learned. Sometimes, it’s a memory that reminds us what’s truly important.
But Black has one caveat (and it's one of her favorite car analogies) …
If you decide to look back, keep it in perspective. There's a reason why windshields are so much larger than rearview mirrors.
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