I was having an extensive run of bad luck in the dating scene, and after a particularly dismal and ineffectual investment in a video-dating company I opted to try a more subtle approach: online dating-site. So I joined one and started posting pics and sure enough, I attracted the attention of a nice young lady. After a couple of months of chatting online and then on the phone we decided to set up a date. I chose a well-known restaurant on a busy, well-lit street, one with multiple exits, excellent interior lighting, and we settled on 5PM as the time to meet. I was doing everything I could think of to make this as comfortable and non-threatening as possible. And sure enough, at the allotted time, she arrived and was exactly the woman that her pictures had portrayed her to be. Me, I'd heard the horror-stories and so I'm thinking, "Rock on!! This is a good sign." And then I saw something else.
She'd brought her mother along, too. Ladies, I understand the bond between mother and daughter is a strong one, and mothers want to make sure this cretin who's escorting their daughter is on the level, but...accompanying her on a first date? Really? I mean, 16 - sure; but we were both in our mid-20's !! And maybe have her observe everything from a distance, surreptitiously, and later come over and introduce herself. Discretion is like garlic: a little goes a long way! And, if you know that your mother is lacking in some of the more common social graces, maybe try to dissuade her from crashing the party...but I digress. Virtually every citizen of this great country has been exposed to the humor of "yo mama" jokes, that colloquial mixture of delight and disdain that is so essentially American. This woman gave me a new appreciation for that vein of jokes.
I was dressed for a first date - sufficiently casual but appropriately well-dressed - and the young lady (whom I will call "Dana") had dressed with similar decorum. Her mother, however, had gone to trouble of getting herself up in a ratty grey sweatsuit and sandals. I greeted them as they approached the table where I was sitting, and while Dana and I said our hellos, her mom just looked me up and down, then turned to her daughter and remarked out of the side of her mouth, "My gawd, he's a tall drinka water, ain't he?!!" This set the tone for the rest of the evening, as Dana and I tried to keep up a steady flow of light conversation, but our efforts were continually being torpedoed by her mother's comments, which were almost always about me and unfailingly spoken from behind her hand to her daughter, who had as little trouble hearing them as I did. One of the more memorable gems was, "Dear lord, Dana, he's even got all his teeth! Him's a keeper!" That might've been a compliment, but I couldn't bring myself to feel flattered...
My patience was growing thin and I had nearly asked Dana to ditch her mom 4 or 5 times when her mom looked at me suspiciously and asked what I had against smokers. Now, I don't smoke personally, but I was in the Air Force at the time and I was used to working and being around guys who lit up on an hourly basis, so being around cigarettes was nothing new for me, and I told her so...at which point she reached inside her sleeve and pulled out a pack of Camels, lighting one immediately. Well, I'm no scarecrow but this was the Camel that broke my straw-back; I excused myself to the restroom, paid for everything @ the bar, made up some story about my unit being deployed suddenly and that I had to go pack for an extended tour of duty in the Arabian desert, and then I hightailed it out of one of those many exits.
Ladies, leave yo mamas at home. Introductions can wait for a later date.
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