There are many benefits of being a former FBI agent. Local law enforcement agencies around where I live often consult me on larger cases and local companies often consult with me on security issues. Many people often ask for my opinions on people around them wondering whether or not they can be trusted. Many people have outright told me I'm the smartest person they know. Whether or not that's true is debatable, but I find the sentiment flattering.
It's in this backdrop that I found myself playing matchmaker. Yes, you read that right matchmaker. My friend Brittany though only in her early thirties had become convinced if she didn't find Mr. Right soon she would become an old cat lady and that was her worst nightmare. I had tried to convince her that she was still young and pretty and would have no issues finding a good husband, but she wouldn't be assuaged. She asked me to help her find a good husband pulling the old 'if you're really my friend you'll help me' card out.
I agreed to try and help her even though I knew it would probably be an uphill battle. I had heard enough of her dating stories in the time we had known each other to know she was very particular about the men she dated. Many times, the issue lay with the fact that she was very smart and most of the guys she went out with couldn't keep up with her intellect. More than once, I told her she could have worked at the FBI lab in Washinton if she wanted to. There wasn't much that she wasn't at least knowledgeable about and could carry a conversation about. Given that she was a pharmacist naturally she was most knowledgeable about medicine. She was so good her job and with the people that most patients followed her a few years back when she changed pharmacies.
Many of her friends had tried hooking her up on blind dates or just dates in general with men they knew, and they all ended up going nowhere. The main issue was they couldn't keep up with her intellectually. That's when she had come to me in frustration hoping my FBI background would be able to do better than her friends. Despite some inner doubt that I would be much help I dove in with my usual gusto that I gave any task given to me. From various contacts I had made over the years at the FBI and subsequent jobs I had I knew a lot of people I considered intelligent so I figured that's where I would start.
Nearly a year later my enthusiasm I had going into the job had been well dashed as Brittany had rejected everyone, I had vetted for her. Years as an FBI agent working on some pretty big cases some of them taking years to crack open had schooled me on keeping my frustrations in check. But now as she sat here in front of me in my den at home explaining why the latest person I had vetted for her wouldn't be suitable I found myself getting frustrated.
"Dan was nice, but he doesn't know anything outside the realm of programming." Brittany said as she paced my den. "I mean programming is interesting don't get me wrong, but that's his whole world. You ask him anything about current events, social, economic issues, etc. he's lost."
I sat in my armchair and sighed before taking a sip of bourbon. "You know renaissance men are hard to find." I told her for probably the twentieth time since we had taken up this endeavor. "There are very few people who can converse on such a wide variety of topics like you do."
"You can." she said giving me a pointed look.
"That's because of my time in the military and the FBI." I told her. "Military intelligence and law enforcement requires a vast amount of general knowledge that can be used at any time. Not to mention the experience gives you a wide array of stories to draw from."
"So, what about a former Bureau agent?" she asked.
"I tried that remember?" I said. "Johnny was a former Bureau agent but you didn't like him."
"Oh yeah I forgot about him." Brittany said. "He thought he was smarter than he really was. He tried to impress me with his knowledge of forensics, but I had to deflate his ego when I explained to him that his knowledge was outdated by at least five years."
Another sigh and another sip of bourbon and I said, "Well I'm running out of ideas and frankly people here."
"Oh, come on you know hordes of people." she said.
"Yeah, and you've found a reason to reject every single one of them." I said somewhat exasperated.
"Don't get mad at me." she said sounding annoyed. "Is it wrong for me to have standards for the man I want to spend the rest of my life with?"
"Only if those standards aren't reasonable." I said as I stood up to refill my bourbon.
"What's so unreasonable about wanting a guy to have something between his ears?" she said clearly getting frustrated with me.
"Nothing." I said as I refilled my bourbon and sat back down. "But every man I found for you since we started this has been smart, but somehow you've found reason to question their intelligence or found some other excuse to reject them."
"They were not excuses." she said putting her hands on her hips.
"What do you call them then?" I asked.
"Valid points." she said.
"You're not even giving these guys a chance." I said.
"Yes I am." she said argumentatively.
"One or two dates hardly qualifies as giving them a chance." I said. "When I was at the Bureau it sometimes took weeks and hundreds of hours of interviews to figure out how to get under a suspects skin and get him to crack. Those hours we spent together allowed me to get a picture of how they ticked and what I could do to get them to talk."
"We're not talking about interviewing serial killers or bank robbers." she said. "We're talking about finding me a good man."
"It's the same concept." I said. "Only time allows you to get a feeling for someone."
"And you've told me that in those interviews that you could almost sense whether or not you were on the right track with someone or were talking to the right person. It's the same thing here. My instinct told me it wasn't the right way to go."
I threw my hands up in frustration then. I didn't necessarily mind her rejecting the men I had found, but her using my own instincts and methods against me for some reason struck a nerve. "Well, I don't know what else to do then." I said clearly sounding frustrated. "I've worked as hard as I know how to try and find suitable guy for you and so far, came up empty. Every cop has one case they just can't crack, and I guess this will be mine." I then stood up and walked over to the window and gazed out into the yard as the sun started to set with my arms folded over my chest. A few seconds later I saw Brittany appear beside me out of the corner of my eye.
"Scott please don't be mad at me." I heard her say softly as I continued to peer out into the backyard. "I know you've worked hard on this, and I do appreciate it. I'm just not willing to give the rest of my life to just anyone."
