Many moons ago, when disco was king, grey hair for grandparents and crow’s feet for birds, I was set up with someone. As it turns out, it was the only successful set up I’ve ever had, resulting in a relationship that is still thriving after two decades.

Our friendship was born in church when a couple members approached me and mentioned another teen who attended a different service. “You two are so much alike,” they said. “You should meet. You would really click.” I heard this every week. “Have you met Pam yet? You’re two peas in a pod.” Instead of being curious, I was growing resentful. Who was this Pam chick and why were people shoving her down my throat? And so it was that the more they enthused about “Perfect Pam,” the more determined I became to avoid her.

Since we travelled in the same circles, however, it was inevitable that we would meet. And one day we did, at a young adult activity. When we shook hands with mutual disinterest, she revealed that she too had heard about me. The expression on her face was that of one who has sniffed something rancid. Obviously “Perfect Pam” was as sick of me as I was of her. But we kept running into each other. And slowly, reluctantly, a friendship, supported by common backgrounds, started taking root. We were both the eldest daughters and had blue-collar Irish fathers who were from the Midwest, had married Hispanic women, and were rugged, down to earth souls. — Beliefnet.com