A year and a half ago, I met one of the coolest mothers around. I was dating her 20 year old son at the time and she seemed to approve of me. However, meeting the parents is always the most awkward experience for me when starting a new relationship. This was no exception.
I was 20 years old and had met "Mark" at a party. Having just gotten out of an extremely abusive relationship, I didn't want anything too serious, but I was flattered that he was so interested in talking to me. Nerves got the best of me and I got completely wasted. My friend offered him a ride home, dropping me off on the way. I carry three things with me at all times: my phone, my chapstick, and my keys. Whenever I'm drunk, I tend to lose these things one at a time, even though they're usually in my hands. So the entire car ride home, I'm in tears because I can't find my phone in my left hand, my keys in my right hand, and my chapstick in my pocket. The entire journey was 15 minutes, but it felt like forever. Eventually I just started apologizing to Mark for being so drunk, since I apologize for everything even when it's not my fault, and drunk me didn't think he knew I was sorry enough. Anyway, he seemed to think this was cute and we exchanged numbers (I think... somehow it ended up in my phone, gets a little fuzzy) and went on a few dates.
Mark lived out on Pittsburgh, a 4 hour drive from my little college town. He was home for a month between semesters, living with his mom and his brother. After staying over at my place one weekend, he invites me to spend the night at his place after another party, and again, I'm too drunk to really protest that it would be shocking for his mother. Or I just didn't think about it. I'm not sure.
Anyway, we go back to his mom's house, and I sleep the night off in his basement room. The next morning, we go upstairs to watch TV, but someone was already watching. It was his mom. I had hoped to sneak out while she was at work, but no, she doesn't work on Saturdays. My mistake. We introduce ourselves, explain that Mark and I have been dating for the past few weeks, and she offers me a cup of coffee. And some cinnamon rolls. Apparently she'd been waiting for us to wake up for a few hours.
Things got really awkward when I explained my job at the bookstore. We started chatting about books, music, TV, and things we enjoy. She tells me about her failed relationship with Mark's father, with her drug-addicted ex, and so on. Then she offers to lend me a book her girlfriends had bought her for her birthday. "It's about not giving up the cookies too early in a relationship, but I think it's already a too late for you."
Gee, thanks "Mom."
This woman didn't mind that I slept over at her house whenever Mark was in town. She even said to me once "At least someone got laid." She didn't even mind when I came to visit her between long-distance booty calls or interviewed her on what it was like to be widowed at such a young age. What she found awkward was planning what to make for breakfast each time.
Priorities, eh?
Turns out, awkwardness is all in the interpretation of the situation.
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