My mom’s friends are scheming to create magical romances between me and their so! wonderful! and CUTE! nephews. Their plotting involves obscure meeting locales and less-than-subtle excuses: babysitting a guinea pig, dropping off brownies at a family reunion, flying to California, signing up for a teeth cleaning (that one’s a dentist), and my favorite, a informational interview with the guy currently living off his trust fund because he really should get a job at some point in his life. Apparently, giving one my phone number and having him arrange a time/place for drinks is not a first-meeting story in which dreams are made.

Although potentially really awkward, I almost hope some of their schemes happen — at the very least, for the amusement of my mom and her friends. What else do they have to talk about at book club? The book? That won’t even carry them through the first glass of wine.

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