May. 12, 2011
It’s been one year since my mother has
caused me to shudder in horror re-entered the dating scene. She’s now 72.66 and apparently after one year of this, somewhat disturbing new hobby she’s quite proficient.
As noted in Senior Citizen Dating, my mother was a dating novice and tended to limit herself to
old men with such strict requirements as ‘no moustaches or pets’ and to dining only at iHop. As much as I begged, pleaded, attempted to insult/embarrass her for what appeared to be a lack of finesse and/or refinement she kept reminding me this was her ‘gig’ and to back off. Humph.
Well, what a year it’s been. Not only do I have trouble keeping track of my mother’s men friends, with the exception of one emotionally challenged bozo who looked like an elderly mannequin due to excessive plastic surgery apparently from a third world country, she has them all pining for her.
Her phone rings off the hook; she has now dined at more restaurants in Austin then me, can now correctly pronounce many wine varietals, is getting her nails and hair done professionally, is well-known by the local florist and can’t seem to drop a dime no matter how hard she tries.
I think part of her newfound dating success stems from her finally giving up the ineffective ‘I can do it myself, I don’t need a man’ routine and deciding to let them wine and dine her.
I also like that she
claims she is making them chase her because she's keen on that they’ll keep coming back as long as she doesn’t dig any one of them 'too much'.
I can barely get her on the phone any longer. I know she’s screening my calls at times because as much as she claims (verbally in her Kentucky/Virginia-ish accent) she ‘just can’t figure out how this darned mobile phone thing works’, I’ve seen her covertly ‘decline’ calls when she just can’t place which man is calling at the time.
She looks at her phone with head tilted sideways, trying to I.D. the caller’s phone number, finally sighing and muttering ‘Oh no, I think it might be Carl, or wait, Tom? Oh never mind’ and tossing her phone down like she can’t be bothered.
Admittedly, I’ve tuned her out a bit when she does give the weekly rundown of her dating calendar as I simply can't keep track. It reminds me of a girlfriend of mine who used to call me every few days and talk about her ‘boyfriend’. I finally admitted that the turnover was so high I had absolutely no idea which one she was referring to.
rather uncomfortable conference with my mother in order to write this post, I believe I may just have her candidates men friends correctly identified:
There’s Mac the dentist, the friend Temple (who tells her daily that he will wait forever for her to realize he is ‘the one’ for her), Tom, some guy from San Antonio who’s name escapes me, Bozo (who I’m hoping she’s still not seeing on the sly as I just can’t approve), Lee who is simply ‘too old but sweet as the dickens’, Marty, Darrell, Ed, Carl (who lied about his age – do old people do this too?) and apparently another guy named Clyde (not also known as Bozo, per above). Two Clyde’s? (How common of a name was that a hundred years ago?), G.W. (still don’t know what that stands for but that he’s 64 and ‘she’s just not that into him’), a new entrant named Joe and John, poor John who just finally gave up.
So, in summary, my mother is getting her dating groove on and, enjoying some pretty spectacular meals to boot. Go mom.