Charming, but single

(From S: Part One is here.) A single man is moving onto my parents’ street. My mother is thrilled. “You know how that house across the street from [Neighbor] just sold?” My mom said excitedly as we chatted over a glass of wine on Saturday afternoon. I nodded. I hadn’t noticed that it was for sale, until the “sold” sign went up sometime this week. “Well, a single 35-year-old man is moving in!” She was ecstatic about the news and ready to sink her “Date My Daughter” hooks into him before any of the neighborhood’s other Mothers With a Single Daughter at Marrying Age could mark him as a Potential Future Son In Law. I rolled my eyes and started outlining the numerous reasons why it was highly unlikely that I would want to date someone who lived down the street from my parents, across the street from a family friend and a few houses from one of the gossips from my parents’ church. “I don’t have all of the details on him yet, S,” my mom continued, brushing aside my arguments. She paused to sip her wine before continuing. “But I met him and he is good-looking. He’s 35. Did I say that already?” “Yes, Mom, you did,” I deadpanned. I was about to snottily ask why he was single if he is so great, but stopped because I wouldn’t want him (or any other guy, for that matter) asking his mother how I’m still single if I’m so awesome. That’s something many single women (and men) I know think, but never actually verbalize. “Oh. Well … he’s recently divorced,” she said with a sense of trepidation. I took a sip of wine and rolled my eyes again. “What did he do?” I asked, heaping on the sarcasm. I sensed there was a story here. “Apparently his ex-wife was just not a very nice person,” my mom said diplomatically. “Of course.” “But, like I said, I don’t have all of the details. He’s [Lady From Church]’s son.” “Who?” “She goes to our church! She worked at your school!” “Oh.” “So, doesn’t he sound great?” I rolled my eyes again, realized that I was wearing sunglasses so she couldn’t see me. “Mom, I’m not going to go after some guy just because he moved down the street from you,” I explained. “The whole neighborhood would know anytime I stayed there past dark.” “Well, I thought you were looking!” “What?” “I thought you were looking for a boyfriend!” “I’d like one, but I don’t need, like, you and everyone you know helping. I don’t HAVE to have a boyfriend,” I said. “I’ll find a man one day. On my own. Please don’t try to set me up with every man you meet, Mom.” She seemed hurt and dejected. “Well,” she huffed. “I don’t see them lining up down the block or anything. I just thought you might want some help.”