You know your Love Life is Bad...

... when your bank teller starts lecturing you. Seriously.
Ida, the sweet gal at First Community Bank, gave me the most piteous look yesterday.
I was out running errands. There was a new teller at the window. Matthew. He was cute. And probably 18, making me Mary Kay LaTourneau.
First Community is famous for knowing their customers personally, calling them by name, and basically being wonderful. Seriously, I really like that bank. If it weren't for the free checking at Wells Fargo and the hassle of switching (and the trouble FC has had recently, financially speaking, of course), I'd go ahead and switch. The people at my local WF are about as incompetent as they come, so I regularly go to another branch. Taking business stuff to FC is always a joy. Well, almost always.
So new Matthew, cute little drive-up teller, started to help me with my deposit. I'm sure they've got a database with all our names and info, but because I go to the bank most days, the ladies know me. Ida came to the window to introduce me to the new guy.
Then she asked, "How's your mom? I never see her anymore."
I told her Mother would be in later to sign a lien release for a customer and have it notarized, but that my parents let me run the errands as a bit of a tender mercy.
"When you work at your parents' house two miles from your own and your office is in your childhood bedroom, your life isn't too exciting," I explained to Ida. "Basically, I only work and go to church, so going to the bank and the post office keeps me from going stir crazy."
Ida clicked her tongue. "Don't you have a love life?" she inquired.
There wasn't much to say. I think I mumbled something about the boy I date being out of town. I didn't want to look like a loser in front of Matthew, but later I started thinking it probably sounded like I made up a boyfriend. Oh well. A lot of locals bank there. Maybe Ida can find me a boyfriend. Preferably one with a nice, fat account.