My mother called last night and I took the opportunity to bring her up to date on my dating escapades. When I mentioned signing up for Match.com to her months ago she was appalled. She thought it was tacky and inappropriate. Meet my mother. Anything that she considers "coloring outside of the lines" is tacky and inappropriate.
While sharing my crazy idea with her friends, one of them says "Well, T's mom, Match.com is rather an acceptable forum to meet your mate these days. People are getting married later in life, and not everyone meets their mate in college anymore. How else are they supposed to find acceptable mates? In bars? God forbid!" That's all it took. Now my mother is on board with Match.com and wants constant updates on my progress. She is sticking to the 3-strike rule though, saying that I really need to give each date at least that much time for an accurate assessment.
Last night mother wanted an update on Guitar Hero. I had previously given her a full report on our Tuesday night date, excluding the late night texts. I'm not sure why I excluded them. I think I was afraid the "get my room ready" text might have given her a coronary. Last night I informed her that my Friday night date to the bachelor/bachelorette auction went okay. "Okay? What does okay mean?" Hmmm...how do I tell her this "Well, he was nice, if a bit overly excited about the whole thing. That was okay I guess. Then, he said Cool Beans! about 50 times which drove me nuts." Pause. She's silent. "You know T, I once knew this adult male who was addicted to Vicodin. He said Cool Beans! all the time. Hmmm....this doesn't sound good."
****Side Note...You have to understand something about my mother. She knows everyone. She knows someone (or knows of someone) who has been through anything there is to go through. She knows someone who has said/done everything there is to say/do. And....if I come across someone who says/does anything remotely resembling what the person she knows said/did then they are the same. If she saw a drug dealer wearing red shoes, and I met a priest who was wearing red shoes, the priest is a drug dealer. Don't ask me how this translates in my mother's mind, but it does. I love her. Really I do. But, one must tread lightly when sharing with her because she will draw these conclusions and there is no changing her mind.
Now that my mother was "taking my side" (even if she is assuming Guitar Hero is a Vicodin addict when I'm pretty sure he isn't) I was ready to go for the gold. "Mother, there is something else I need to tell you. He kept calling me boo." Silence. More Silence. "I don't understand T. Was he trying to scare you?" God love her. "No mother, boo is a term used in the urban community to reference one's boyfriend or girlfriend". Even more silence. "Are you saying that he called you the ghetto version of his girlfriend?" Her voice is a little shaky when she says this, so I know she is about to lose it. "Yes mother. That's what I'm saying". She takes a deep breath and replies with "Well then. He obviously doesn't respect you very much. I don't think that you need to spend one more minute with anyone who doesn't respect you, T. You deserve much better than that. And really T, what would my friends say about someone who talks like that? This just won't do." Yes! Yes! I'm off the hook. I have been given parental permission to NEVER go out with Guitar Hero again. Goodbye Guitar Hero.
Thanks mom :)