Is my Jude Law incoming?

It was a winter Sunday morning when I opened my phone and discovered I had a missed call from my great-aunt. I thought it was a butt dial, which is often the case with older relatives, but I was mistaken. She had one of her yapping sessions with other nosy elderly women and discovered her friend has a grandson in Leicester.

My great-aunt isn’t a subtle woman; she went straight to the point and started advertising him to me as if he were a car. He’s taller than me, dark-haired, a swimmer, and a law student. I was informed that she had already given out my number, and I shall expect him to contact me anytime soon.

Nosy relatives are either the best or the worst. They’ll embarrass you in front of cute men or matchmake you with someone exactly your type. My great-aunt can do both.

When we were spending our annual family vacation by the sea, she pointedly coughed any time one specifically handsome waiter came around, and she shamelessly pointed at him for me to see all the time as if I were blind. I was embarrassed to the core. But her gossiping added a British romantic comedy element to my life, so let’s not write her off quickly.

A day after that, my grandma called me. She was involuntarily dragged into this whole matchmaking scheme and instructed to send me his photo and phone number. Apparently, my potential love life is a hot topic amongst my elderly relatives. However inconvenient the match was, considering my short-term stay in Leicester, I’m just a girl raised on romantic comedies.

And if romantic comedies taught me something, it’s that love is rarely convenient. Since it’s almost Christmas, I figured I might as well be Cameron Díaz in The Holiday, saying her infamous line, “who was just thinking, why would she ever leave before New Year’s Eve? That makes no sense at all.”

Sadly, my Jude Law had other plans. I decided to be modern and break the stereotype that men should text first. After my message, he replied politely, asking how I was enjoying my stay, but he didn’t bother to come back for more conversation. So, my British romantic comedy ended before it even started.

I will have to disappoint my great-aunt, whose matchmaking credibility will suffer a wound. At least I will please my grandma, who was afraid I would meet the love of my life here and wouldn’t return to the Czech Republic. She complained about how her great-grandchildren won’t speak Czech, and she won’t understand them.

So, I guess the Lachmann family line is staying safely within Czech borders, and I won’t be introduced to anyone´s adorable two daughters, have drunken late-night visits, go on pub dates, or witness Mr. Napkin impressions in the near future. Unless any newly elected handsome prime minister named Hugh Grant waits by the corner.

Love,

Book and Tea Girl