[Chick] The Official Vetting

Back in my soccer mom days, I battled an addiction that my friends found somewhat disturbing. They'd beg me, plead with me even, to partake in moderation, to just put it away for a day and to find the true root of my problem. One friend now admits she even entertained the idea of staging a girlfriend intervention, a la Charlotte and her Rabbit on "Sex and the City." But praise the Lord, it blew up in time to save me from the Betty.

My much beloved Rainbow Vacuum Cleaner finally bit its last dust and went to the great suck in the sky, and I learned to let go and let God handle it. I accepted a little dust as a natural part of home living, and I found that life goes on even with some dog hair under the baseboards. God's timing was perfect, because soon after I had to go out and get one of those full-time career-type things and lost interest in housekeeping altogether.

So this spring, I began my cleaning ritual with a handful of trepidation. I gathered my tax documents, I arranged all my photographs, and yes, I vacuumed from ceiling to floor. I then called my best good friend MF to let her know what I'd gone and done.

"I have something to tell you. I cleaned my house with a Rainbow Vacuum Cleaner today. And I borrowed it from that cute guy who sent the flowers." I said. "I think this could be prophetic."

"Well, it is prophetic. It is prophetic and clandestine and all of those things, and it's time for me to meet him," she replied.

So I tell her what we know about Mr. Rainbow. He is funny and charming and pretty damn smart. He's a father and a computer nerd. He has excellent taste in wine. Oh, and he drives a Corvette, and no, I don't know if he is overcompensating. We then arrange for Vette-boy to endure the official vetting, so to speak, that has become procedure with all my potential suitors.

You see, MF possesses this automatic assault questioning technique that smokes a liar out of the hole every time. The investigation has proven to induce stuttering in the most successful of men, and she has on one occasion made a criminal defense lawyer drop his fork in a high-end restaurant. This chick can go from "What size shoe do you wear?" to "How do you feel about your mother?" without pause. She's the drill-sergeant father I've always wanted, neatly packaged with a stunning smile and plenty of "sugars" and "sweeties."

Yet this particular staging was proving tricky for me, as I kind of like this guy. OK...I'm absolutely twitterpated by this guy. MF assured me a lenient, but honest, grading curve on this one and reminded me, "Honey, we just need to make sure he can play." Well, she is right. We do love to play, and we have had several candidates who have looked good on paper, but lacked that certain "I don't give a damn" required to maintain a healthy relationship in our circle.

And in light of this emergency situation, involving a Rainbow Vac and all, MF called in her reinforcement, our friend Patrick, shameless Log Cabin Republican that he is. In one unprecedented night of Mississippi State baseball, MF and Patrick obtained all necessary information, with the exception of social security number and mother's maiden name, on our friend with the Corvette. Bless his heart, and play ball.

"Did you grow up around here?" Well no, he didn't, but his mom is Southern, so they let that one slide. Ball one. "How long have you been divorced?" Well, he's been divorced longer than this chick, and I called objection on the grounds of "that's just not fair." "Where do you get your hair cut?" At Supercuts next to Target, of course.

"Well, you obviously don't play for my team," Patrick surmised.

Mr. Rainbow remains cool amid all the interrogation, and accepts the fact that people will stare when my friends and I are out in public. People shamelessly listen to our conversations because they are quite often so interesting and/or scandalous. And, yes, Mr. Trucker Hat, we did notice when you pulled a full-frontal eavesdrop while picking your nose as Patrick explained the platform of the Log Cabin Republicans, but I digress.

In the end, he passed all tests with flying colors and also remains interested in me at the same time. I'm sure a vetting such as this could scare a man off, but never the right man. If you find one who continues to send flowers after a night of TMI questioning and two chicks satirically playing Tawny Kitaen on the hood of his sports car, keep the Rainbow. I'm just saying.

Previous Comments


A guy that actually owns a vaccum at all could be considered OK by me, but owns one of the Rainbow variety? This could be good.



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