Amy practically skipped from her car to her building. She really did have a wonderful time, aside from the awkward moment with Rajesh.

She checked her phone as she rode the elevator up to her third floor apartment. Three missed calls from her mother. It was getting late but still early enough to call back.

Her mother answered on the first ring. "Why didn't you answer your phone? Are you screening my calls now?"

"Hello to you too, Mother."

"Careful, Amelia. That sass isn't going to win you any friends."

Amy held her tongue. Why did she decide to call back tonight? The day had gone so well, and now her mother was starting to ruin it. "I see three missed calls. You must have something important to tell me."

"Where have you been?"

"I was busy," she replied, not wishing to elaborate to avoid an interrogation. Her mother didn't need to know she was running errands for someone due to an error on her part.

"Let me guess, you spent the whole evening at work with your lab rats instead of going out and meeting people." Amy's mother paused to allow her daughter to respond but was met with silence.

"Amy, the reason I called was to tell you about my friend Marge's son. He and his wife recently divorced, so he's looking to get back into the dating scene. I told her you're single also and gave her your number to pass onto him."

"Mother! Why would you do that?"

"Jeremy has a successful dental practice..."

Amy cut her mother off, "I appreciate your efforts, but I do not wish to become involved with a recently-divorced man. Do you even know why they're divorced? Did he cheat on her?"

Mrs. Fowler's voice rose, "Amelia Farrah Fowler, what a terrible thing to say! I am just trying to help. You are 34 years old and have never had a boyfriend. Had it not been for our agreement, you would never have even gone on one date. You don't even try. If you would just put in a little effort, you could find a man to take care of you."

"I keep telling you, I don't need anyone to take care of me! I'm an independent woman with a well-paying career!" She shouted.

Amy's upstairs neighbor stomped on the floor and hollered to keep it down. Amy lowered her voice, "Please, Mother. Can we let this go?"

"As it's getting late, I will agree to drop the subject tonight after I say this - I expect you to fulfill our agreement to go on a minimum of one date per year. If you're adamant about not dating Jeremy, we still have almost 11 months to find you a date."

Amy blew out a breath. Of course her mother had to bring up their agreement. She relented. "I promise I won't break our agreement, but please let me do this on my own. If Jeremy calls, I will politely decline."

"I will agree to that on one condition. If you haven't gone on a date by November, I will intervene."

"Deal."

Amy fell into a fitful sleep. At 3 a.m., she awoke and was unable to fall back asleep. Some chamomile tea was in order. She got up to put the kettle on then paced her living room as she waited for the water to boil.

Why was her mother always so insistent that she needed taking care of when she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself? Her mother was behind the times. Women have worked outside the house for decades.

Amy loved her job. From the time she was 12 years old, she knew she wanted to be a neurobiologist. She read every biology text book and medical journal she could get her hands on. She studied hard and was always at the top of her class. A boyfriend would have gotten in the way of her dream.

At first, Mrs. Fowler gently tried asking her daughter to go out and meet people. Amy always declined. Over the years, Mrs. Fowler became increasingly agitated. Her friends' daughters all had boyfriends, while her own had never even been on one date.

When her mother enacted the agreement on her 21st birthday. Amy agreed just to get her off her back and with the promise that she could borrow her mother's George Foreman grill any time.

Even after Amy graduated from college and was hired in her field, she still had no desire to date, but she honored her mother's agreement. None of those dates ever turned into a second date. If the guy wasn't turned off by her lack of fashion sense or her dry sense of humor, she made sure to do something to ensure he never contacted her again.

Amy slowly counted to ten. "Relax, Fowler," she chided herself. She poured the boiling water over her tea bag with shaky hands, nearly spilling it on herself.

As she drank her tea, she started to feel it's calming effects. With a clear head, she began formulating a plan that included a certain theoretical physicist. She just hoped he would be willing to go along with it. Little did she know that he was formulating a plan of his own.