Many years ago when my sister and I were both single we arranged a visit to her apartment near Boston. I brought a friend, and matchmaker Dot told me that she had the "perfect" guy for her to meet.
On Saturday afternoon the plan was for the "couple" to go fishing together, which would give them time to get to know each other. I would be visiting a nearby museum on the metro, and Dot was going to cook a fancy meal hoping that there would be a fresh catch for the main course.
In her usual, comfortable way that she would became so good at in later life, Dot set up a card table, put on a fancy linen cloth from dad's store that he had given her and arranged a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. She collected together an odd assortment of dishes and glasses, but they seem to work together well. She had that artist's knack for decorating and making a table elegant without expensive dinnerware either.
Dinnertime came and our friends returned from the lake with a small fish that the four of us would be sharing, but I could tell that the arranged date had fallen through, and that it was going to be a long meal around the table.
Yes, it was, and it was mostly Dot and I talking to keep the silence from being overbearing. The guy left as quickly as he could, and that is when the conversation really became lively between three single girls and a bottle of wine at the table!