Trusting instinct

One of my grandmother’s Russian friends heard that I was single and solitary, and is trying to matchmake for me.  I appreciate the thought, but not so much the effort.  She wants me to teach some kind of English conversation class to her and some other Russian guy.  Now the difficult thing is figuring how to say ‘no’ politely.  Perhaps she thought I’d implied I was keen on the idea of her trying to set me up, heaven forbid.  Now if I didn’t have to bother with politeness, I could just say that I’ve come to the opinion that for a successful match, it’s important for two people to have things in common.  Like, for instance, a language! 

It probably sounds silly.  I’m lacking for social contact, and yet here I am complaining about all the unwelcome offers.  It’s hard to explain.  I live by instinct, because that’s what works best, time and time again.  I know what ‘yes’ feels like.  This is not yes.  This is not even the slightest tickle of a maybe.  I don’t live by some stupid "beggars can’t be choosers" motto.  I’m not a beggar.  I don’t rush desperately through every open doorway as though looking for the damned fire escape.  I’ve got to have faith in my own judgement, or I may as well just put myself on autopilot and vacate the body, because it’s no longer my own life I’m living. 

On an entirely unrelated note, has anyone else been watching White Collar?  Is it just my perversion, or are the writers shamelessly and deliciously raiding their sexual fantasies for the very formula of this show?  Sugary TV goodness!  (Screening season 1 here – no spoilers please.)