Yep, it’s mother effin’ Christmas. I’m making my lists and I’m checking them not once, but a whopping thrice! I’ve been a bad boy, a very bad boy who has his comeuppance coming to him next week. How so? Oh I’m heading home for the holiday and I’m bringing my lady with me. Sure, sure. It’s not a big deal; forcing your parents onto your unsuspecting lover. That is, unless your mother is named: Rowena D. Clobberbean. Rowena was a stout woman that took even less shit from people than Chuck Norris toilet paper…
Oh sure, sure. You guys think I’m merely over exaggerating about my dear mum. Perhaps I am. I just remember the last time I introduced a girlfriend to my mom. It was a life altering experience, I tell you. It started innocently enough. My mom hugged my girlfriend and promptly asked her if I was still into those “boobie magazines.” My ex laughed nervously and before she had any chance to say anything my mom went on: “Oh, you didn’t know? I’m so silly; of course he wouldn’t mention that!! You see, I’m convinced my son was a druggy when he was in high school, so I regularly went through his room looking for marijuana, battery acid or whatever it was that those little jerks did back then.” “Thanks mom,” I stated rather loudly. My mom replied, “Oh, son, I’m not embarrassing you am I?” She turns to look at my ex, Kelly, and says “You know, there’s really nothing wrong with pornography, even if it was some of that weird stuff.” Kelly looked at me and asked, “Weird stuff, honey?” Sweet jesus, this was going from bad to worse and two minutes haven’t even gone by yet.
For the first time in my life, I shrunk from the occasion in a minute-fifty flat.
“You know, Kelly, really, it’s okay with the porn. We were wondering if Alex was gay or something like that. Oh! Don’t you worry; it’s okay to be gay. We just needed to know what we’re dealing with. Right?” Thanks again, ma. The whole “we just needed to know what we’re dealing with” comment just made me feel that much more special. I mean that’s what the president says when dealing with terrorist threats and shit like that.
The rest of the evening wasn’t a whole lot better than how it all started off… That was the first and the last time, I said to myself, I would let any love interest around my dear ol’ mum.
It took a few weeks or so, but eventually I got it. My mom doesn’t do things on accident. She does things on purpose. Translation? My mom set me up and knocked me the eff out with a well placed and even better timed embarrassment salvo, the kind of thing that makes a person fall to the floor and curl up into the fetal position begging for the world to just stop.
Nice one, mom. I’m on to you! We’ll see if you get away with that one again. Merry freaking Christmas to me! Ugh.
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