CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE: MATCHMAKING, MISMATCHES AND NEAR-MISSES

My friend Tina, rendered temporarily insane with love for her latest main squeeze, Pookie, has a mission.

She wants to fix me up.

Every time she tells me this, I reply that I am not a starter home, and I don't need vinyl siding or thermal windows, thank you very much.

The foundation could use a little work, but that's another column.

Tina regularly calls me to announce that she's found the Perfect Guy and that I have to meet him NOW, immediately, before a Perfect Woman comes along and snatches him up for herself.

If there's a Dating Hell, Tina hosts its version of "Love Connection."

After many years (many, many years) as a single person, I've noticed a pattern. Friends dizzy in love decide everybody deserves to be equally dizzy, and set about introducing all of their single friends (and Pookie's, too) to each other, with little or no regard for the consequences.

Trust me on that consequences part. It should be illegal to practice matchmaking without a license.

Then the happy couple produce a child, and the matchmaking stops.

I'm never sure if that's because taking care of the baby has worn them out, or they're afraid of losing potential babysitters if all their single friends are always out on dates.

I'm also never sure whether I should be grateful or annoyed when they stop introducing me to Pookie's Aunt Harriet's hairdresser's nephew from Poughkeepsie.

On the other hand, it's an awfully long commute from Cape to Poughkeepsie.

Ambivalence is such a burden.

And by the way, I don't babysit.

I keep trying to explain to Tina that, while I appreciate her efforts, there is no such thing as a Perfect Guy. No matter how tiny his fault is, I'll blow it completely out of proportion.

I'm not talking about character flaws like infidelity, not paying child support or cruelty to animals.

I once decided not to marry a man because he put catsup on his filet mignon.

The fact that he never proposed also played a part, but if he had asked, I would have said no.

Of course, I also once canceled an engagement because my intended smacked me upside the jaw.

My standards aren't always unreasonable, but my judgment could use a little fine-tuning from time to time.

Years of observing other people's disastrous relationships, and my own, have taught me love is a lot of work. You have to be nice. You have to be respectful. You have to be polite. You have to share.

Except for the kind of sharing that leads to extracurricular relationships. That's a no-no.

I have watched friends sail into marriage and laid bets that they'd divorce before the fifth anniversary.

I have simmered with discontent and resentment through relationships with perfectly nice guys who just weren't right at that particular moment.

They were probably too nice. There's no pleasing some of us.

Over the years, I've learned that if you're not happy with yourself and your life, you're not going to be happy with anyone else. Like most things in life, I've learned it the hard way.

But if you like catsup, I know this really nice CPA...

~Peggy O'Farrell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.