Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Not amused

I generally stop by Mom and Dad's house on Tuesdays before I go to hockey. It's a nice little routine, which we started last year when I was living far away and killing time before I go to hockey. Now I live close and I am killing time before I go to hockey.

Yesterday, when I got to the house, my mom was on the phone talking shop with her good friend/coworker, Tess.

Mom was grinning like an idiot when she got off of the phone with Tess. "I had nothing to do with this," she said before launching into her story.

Earlier in the day, Tess's son randomly says to her, "I was thinking maybe I should date Meg."

Which is kind of funny because Meg and his sister, Catherine, are really good friends and essentially the same person. Same personality. Same strong personality. After years and years of marveling at how similar their youngest children were, Mom and Tess introduced Meg and Catherine and they became fast friends.

Tess must have thought that was a bad idea or that the sister similarity was a little too creepy because, instead, she told him "well, her sister Alyson is your age."

Which progressed into Tess's son creeping on me via (I assume) the Facebook. Then admitting to his mother (HIS MOTHER!) that he was creeping on me via the Facebook and telling his mother (HIS MOTHER) that I am "very beautiful" and then his mother (HIS MOTHER) telling this to my mother (MY MOTHER!) who enthusiastically relayed the whole story as though it was something that I wanted to hear.

It wasn't something I wanted to hear.

It was a story that I definitely could have done without hearing and, after I did, tempted me to crawl under the kitchen table and cry.

It was humiliating.

I'm extra sensitive about this right now, no doubt, but it just deflated me.

It was harmless.

It hurt.

With as single as I have been for, oh, basically forever, I always felt lucky that my mom was on my team. She was never a "where's my grandbabies?" mom or a "I want to set you up with the nice butcher at my grocery store" mom. She has never (outwardly) cared about weddings or grandchildren or boyfriends or engagements or timelines or anything, I thought, except my happiness.

I walk around with this open wound every day but at least my own mother doesn't poke at it, you know?

Until she does.

Which, it turns out, hurts double. 


Lisa from Lisa's Yarns said...

Ack, that sucks. I hate that feeling and have been in your shoes. It's not a good feeling when you feel like people are pushing you to get married/have babies/etc. :(

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