I admit, being 31 and single hasn't been a total cakewalk. I'd say 90% of it has been kickass. The other 10% is made of up being pressured by my one ridiculous girl friend who wants to go "boy hunting" every single night, and then there are those guy friends who propositioned me for dates 3 minutes after my engagement was called off. Jesus, I wish I was this popular in high schoool. (I pause to rethink that statement) Nah, I probably would've gotten pregnant and herpes...not exactly in that order. I suppose after-the-fact popularity isn't so bad. But that 10% is still a real pain in the ass.
So you can imagine my surprise when my Mom, the woman I trust with 1,000% of my being, called me last week with "news." It appears she had a busy day in her Allstate office last Wednesday.
For the past few months she's been talking to one of her customers, a nice Russian man, straight off the boat, about setting me up with his son. (this is news to me) Oh sure, the kid's only 21, but he's got a job. Thankfully, Mr. Russia decided I was too old for his kid. Unfortunately, it didn't end there.
This past Wednesday Mr. Russia stops in my mom's office and hands her a piece of paper. It's got an email address on it. He tells her that this is a really nice young man, hard worker, who would be good for her daughter. Then he asks my mother for my phone number so he can give it to this guy.
At this point in the story, I'm just shaking my head. I have no words. Does she know anything about this Russian guy except for what his insurance rates are? Does anyone know anything about this 3rd person, Mr. Email, who is obviously so desperate he'll hand out his contact info to a burly, 55 year old Russian man?
I flashback to a few summers ago, when my mom thought I was a lesbian. It could be worse, I tell myself. On second thought, though, I'm not sure how. It appears that when it comes to my mom, I'm only getting two options: 1. Be a lesbian, or 2. Go out on blind dates with potential date rapists who have email accounts. My mother, the eternal cockeyed optimist, once told me, "Even Jeffrey Dahmer was a homeowner!"
I jumped back into the conversation and asked if she gave him my phone number. "No," she said, much to my happiness (which was short-lived). "I gave him your work email address. So expect to get an email from a Chris from Allied."
Greeeat. It's official: I'm getting pimped out by my mother, the same woman who offered to pay for an Eharmony subscription for me for Christmas. I finally caved. I told her I had gone on a few clandestine dates with someone over the past month, and he's a really great guy. On paper, maybe not so much my type, since he's a contractor with hands that appear to have been soaked in battery acid and a smoker to boot (the GASP heard around the world, I know ~ smokers are gross), but he tells off-color, racist jokes like it's his job and he doesn't get offended that I call him a pussy when he orders the "mild" wings instead of the "hot." So far, what's not to like? I may live in a white-collar world, but I definitely have a blue-collar attitude.
She took it well. I think she was actually relieved to hear that I haven't been sitting around, making lists of cat names for when I start bringing them home from the shelter. No one wants their kid to be the scary lady in her neighborhood.
Not sure if I'll ever hear from "Chris from Allied," but if I do, I'm sure he'll be a super nice guy who goes to church every Sunday and never curses in front of his mother. And I don't doubt that if I strike up an email communication with him, I will ultimately offend him with my jokes and make him cry with my sarcasm because honestly, I've done it before. If I had a nickel every time a (now ex) boyfriend said to me, "You're so mean!", I'd have a lot of nickels.
It's not that I'm mean. It's just that you're a pussy. So order the hot wings.
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