Even before I was married or even in love, I had an incurable desire to match male and female friends.

Maybe it was spending one too many evenings listening to them talk about their lack of a mate or their ongoing love for someone who dumped them months ago.

Maybe it was ego. After all, a successful match immortalizes people. The couple constantly goes around saying: "If it weren't for Heidi Nieland, we wouldn't have met, would we, Snookie-Wookums?" "No, we wouldn't have, Sugarlips. What a great person."

Maybe it was because I've been a victim of other matchmakers and THEIR male friends, who inevitably have "great personalities" and are "very funny."

But it's time to turn in my little black book and go on with my life. The worst matchmaking tragedy of my life just played out.

Wayne and I had been friends for quite some time before I noticed that he hadn't given up on an older woman who broke his heart. One day, lo and behold, he opened his wallet and there was her picture. After two years, he was carrying the picture of a woman who stole his innocence, reaped his candies and roses, and left him shivering in the cold outside her apartment.

It was time for a change. I introduced him to someone I'd just met -- Renee. She seemed like good people, had a decent job and was just getting out of a lousy relationship herself.

They seemed perfect for each other. We doubled, and sure enough, Wayne and Renee were doing Lord-knows-what out in the car long after I determined MY date wasn't worth putting on make-up for.

Finally, I thought, I've successfully matched two people. They continued on with their lives and we sort of lost track of each other.

That is, until I ran into Renee, big with child. I was flabbergasted.

"Well, you little devil!" I said. "What does Wayne think of all this?"

"He doesn't," she said, stomping off.

Hmmmmmm. I called Wayne. Seems he had been attending school in Germany for a few months, came back to a pregnant Renee and did the math. Oops.

I've had some other interesting matchmaking disasters, too.

My dear friend Penny hadn't dated at all in the year following her called-off wedding, so I introduced her to my British friend, Webb.

The evening was going so well. We went to a movie -- Webb paid -- then had drinks at an adult beverage establishment. We went back to Webb's place. In an apparent fit of insanity, he started pulling out comic books from his home country and reading them aloud to us with all the appropriate accents. For an hour.

Penny had a poker face, so I couldn't tell what she was thinking. It was time to make my move.

"Well, I need to get home," I said. "I'm sure Webb could give you a ride later if you wanted to stay, Penny."

She looked startled. "Actually, I need to get home and take my medication."

Webb told me later that "I need to take my medication" was the worst rejection he'd ever received.

Even though I gave up on matchmaking weeks ago, the horror continues.

I met a male friend of mine for dinner the other day -- completely platonic. A female friend of mine dining alone joined us at our table. I didn't say an encouraging word to either of them.

Come to find out, they're going on a date soon.

He's newly separated, has two kids at home and a girlfriend in St. Louis.

It's a curse, I tell you.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.