I was excited to meet Tiesh's new boyfriend, Michael, because we had been praying for him for about 10 years, and I wanted to see what God provided. However, I was a little nervous. I have self-appointed myself the New Partnership Interrogator/Partnership Procurement Officer for my friend groups, and over the years, I have gotten really good at the job. Just consider me an Olivia Benson for my single friends. I investigate, ask the hard questions, and try to sniff out any general b*tcha*sness that my friends may be missing.
What makes me so good at the job when I don't have a man myself? Being fat. When you are a fat person, you kind of live life on the sidelines while everyone else is moving and shaking. And before I became the ball of awesomeness that is grown Holly, kiddie, tween, and teen Holly observed and filed enough foolishness from the relationships of the people around her, uninterrupted and clearly, that she was set by young adulthood to start her gig. I can spot a loser from a mile away. There are signs, sayings, and even aromas that alert me to when one of my friends has bagged someone bogus. Tiesh is my friend with good sense, so I doubted that Michael would be horrible, but even your smartest friend can make an oopsie. I invited them to my Airbnb when I got to New Orleans for a sit-down in the house's really cutely decorated living area. But make no mistake about it. Tiesh and Michael were walking into an interrogation room.
At first sight, Michael seemed sweet, handsome, and unassuming. This means nothing. My last friend who dated a guy with those same qualities found out six months in that he was bisexual with kids he didn't claim. It was imperative that I not be moved by any outside factors, like the huge smile Tiesh got when Michael spoke. It's cute but irrelevant. After some small talk, it was time to get down to business.
"Are you going to marry Tiesh?" I asked him. I mean, come on, if not, why were we all there? 40 is different than 20. There is no time to waste.
He said that he hoped to, if she said yes. And he went on to talk about his family and his job and his willingness to move to New Orleans to be with Tiesh if need be. He communicated clearly. No sexual undertones. Didn't seem annoyed, scared, or humored by my line of questioning. Showed me a picture of his grandkid. Helped me out of an overly plush chair my butt sank into before leaving. After he left, I sat silently with my thoughts in the bedroom, preparing a mental debrief for Tiesh for when she inevitably reached out for my opinion. After much deliberation, I concluded that for about an hour, I may have been in the company of a normal man.
Yes, my findings are based on only what I have observed. For all I know, this guy could have a freezer bag full of babydoll heads in his car trunk. But I don't think that is the case. A lot of women do not agree with me, but I think normal is good. Over the years, normal has translated to boring. But let me tell you, in a world where men lie and cheat and have all types of freaky tricks up their sleeves, normal is what you want, especially in middle age. Desiring a man who keeps you on the edge of your seat with falsehoods and mind-bending lie-riddles is a young woman's game, and a fruitless one at that. Dealing with men with those qualities in your 20s, you will be lucky not to be loony by your 30s and out for blood by your 40s. You want a guy that you can believe that makes your blood pressure stabilize, and I think that Michael may be this man for Tiesh.
I was happy to report this to her, and I am prayerful that 2026 brings normal guys for the rest of my single friends, in the event that Michael is not the last normal man left in America.
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