Julia was 12 years old. Her best friend Betsy was 13. Summer was almost over. School was about to start. Julia and Betsy were having lunch at BurgerBoy. Betsy had decided that Julia needed a boyfriend.
“But why?” asked Julia. “I’m okay without one. What good is a 12-year-old boy anyway? All they’re interested in is playing baseball or riding their skateboards. Where does a girl fit into that picture?”
“Don’t be silly,” replied Betsy. “And forget about 12-year-olds. They’re immature. You should go for someone more experienced—someone at least 13 years old. Someone who will carry your books and walk you to your classes. You need someone who’ll give you a Valentine’s Day card and remember your birthday. You need someone to comfort you when you’re sad and lonely. You need someone to protect you.”
“But my dad does that! That’s what dads are for. He comforts me; he protects me. And he remembers my birthday, too. I’ve got a backpack to carry my books, and I know where all my classes are. I don’t need an escort. And a Valentine’s Day card means that someone loves you. What if I don’t love them back? I don’t want a Valentine’s Day card from someone I don’t love. I don’t love anyone anyway. I’m too young. I don’t think I even know what love is. Besides, you don’t have a boyfriend. Why should I?”
“Because you’re my first client. I’ve decided that I’m going to be a matchmaker when I grow up.”
“Well, if I’m your first client, that means I’ll probably also be your first mistake. No, thank you.”