

I raised Josh, 27, since he was five. He’s a good boy and works day and night, but he NEVER goes out.
In the kindergarten where I work, I met a perfect girl for him, a teacher. I said that’s it. If he doesn’t want to think about his future, I’ll do it for him.
So, she came to our house for tea, but then, as Josh entered the room, she dropped the cake.
Him: “Allison…?”
Her: “You?! Is this YOUR grandson?”
Me: “You know each other?!” And then, my heart stopped after he said, “Yes, she’s MY
…“ex-wife.”
I nearly dropped my teacup.
Turns out they had been married for a short and very messy six months right after college, then split without telling most of the family. She had moved to another city, and I had never even heard her name before.
The “perfect match” I thought I was making had already been tried, tested, and spectacularly failed.
Josh just shook his head, muttered, “Grandma, please… never do this again,” and Allison politely excused herself.
Let’s just say I’ve retired from matchmaking — permanently.
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