My date and I were sitting in his car outside of my apartment, talking about serious things. Usually if you’re inside of a parked (and turned off) vehicle with a date, that can only mean that the both of you just want to suck face. However, on this particular occasion, we were talking about our relationship and discussing adult things. I remember staring at the dude sitting next to me, wondering when he would shut the hell up and kiss me already. Honestly, I hate when the “relationship talk” comes up unnaturally and it seems like it’s being forced through a tiny hole where no one knows the outcome nor are they ready for it. If two people are on the same page, it becomes an unspoken agreement that doesn’t need a verbal analysis.
Anyway, we’re talking. There’s a lot of emotion in the air. Suddenly, my phone blares obtrusively and I see that it’s my mother. I silence it. She calls again. I silence it yet again. I turn all of my attention to the guy when suddenly, his eyes widen and he squints over my shoulder.
“Uh. Is that your mom?”
I whip my head around and in the distance, I see a stout silhouette of a woman standing on the 2nd floor. Her arms are crossed and even in the dark, I can feel my mother’s terrifying gaze.
I simply mutter, “Gotta go,” and leave our conversation unfinished. It was middle school all over again, and I was admonished all night for being loose and flaunting my goods to boys who only wanted my boobs and not my heart (her words, not mine). Damnit mother, you truly are the ultimate cockblock of the century.
I love the lady and I don’t mind her living in my apartment while she figures her business out, but man. I seriously don’t get any action anymore, and the gentleman callers are down to ZERO.
The worst of it was when I was on a date with a guy who had driven over an hour and a half to get to me, and we ended up having a fantastic date. It was nearly 2AM when we walked over to his car, and I mentioned that I would have loved to have him over if not for my mother. The melody to “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” raged inside of my head as we spent the next four hours in his car, and although it was one of the most glorious make out sessions I ever had with a guy, my muscles paid for it later and I was walking awkwardly for the following two weeks. I had an unforgiving black bruise on my back from the gear shift alone, and had to give a blubbering explanation about its origin when my mother walked in on me (very intentionally) while I was in the bathroom.
Let’s just say that when the Mrs. finally moves out, it is freaking ON.
For Love & Whiskey 