(picture it – 2004, NYC, single woman just relocating to the big city, happy as can be, phone rings,
it’s a call from little tobin)

little tobin: so i might have done something that will annoy you a bit.
daughter: oh christ, i’m guessing yes by the sounds of this.
little tobin: well i signed up for internet dating.
daughter: that sounds great! doesn’t annoy me one bit.
little tobin: oh wait, not for me – for YOU.
daughter: yup now i’m completely annoyed, what are you TALKING ABOUT?! did you sign up as me?
little tobin: oh come on, of course i didn’t. that would be creepy.
daughter: yeah that’s what would make this creepy…
little tobin: (speaking at a frantic pace) ok hold on just one minute, i have been talking to this very nice guy, his name is ramsey, you like guys with odd names, and he would love to meet you!  he lives in new york & is a poet with a site on the internet (rattles off some absurd sounding site only a poet would come up with)
and it’s just so sweet what he writes about and he is very handsome annnddd i gave him your number.
daughter: OH MY GOD you have GOT to be KIDDING ME!
little tobin: oh come on, stop being such a prude!
daughter: we will talk later.

(investigating later – his website consisted of a picture of him laying on an orange shag carpet bare-chested
and surprises of all surprises the featured poem was about his mom. he called. i never called back.
i still think about that shag carpet.)