I’m aware that when a parent, relative or friend of the family tries to set you up with someone, the appropriate thing to do is roll your eyes, be patronizing and act horrified.
When I find myself in this situation, so as not to alarm people with potentially erratic blood pressure, I usually conform to this etiquette. Outwardly. Inwardly, however, I get kind of excited.
For one, in my case, chances are the person I’m being set up with is somebody’s idea of a “Nice Jewish Boy.” Which can go one of two ways. Often, somebody’s idea of a “Nice Jewish Boy” turns out to be a slightly mysogynistic jerk with decent table manners, strong ideas about European film and a dry, smart sense of humor. Which means I will definitely be attracted to him.
Alternatively, these “Nice Jewish Boys” may turn out to be more in line with what their adoring mothers think: academically focussed, painfully shy and with chivalrous intentions. In which case, I will probably not be immediately attracted but recognize that I should be, and make an effort.