To say Mother’s Day was interesting is an understatement! I’ve taken my mom out a couple of times but nothing (and I do mean nothing) ever prepares you for what she will say. Now let me start off by saying I love my moms. No doubt. However. . . . there are some times that I wish I could place a muzzle on her! Besides my son, my mother is the only one that can make me lose my temper. She tells her truth wherever, whenever, and does not know when to stop! Sunday was definitely no exception to this rule.
So the plan for Sunday was to ride down to Augusta, take my mom to a nice restaurant for lunch, help her with the new iPhone 6 that I got her the week before, and return home for my Sunday nap. Sounds feasible right? I go through my Sunday morning routine and head out with no issues. Everything is copacetic as I pull up to my mother’s home. Like most of our dates she’s ready to go, talking about how she only ate a cookie for breakfast! She has visions of going to the local buffet but I convince her to try a nice spot where the food doesn’t surround a chocolate fountain. We arrive at the eatery and we’re seated with no wait (favor I tell ya!). Things were going oh so well . . . . . . . .until we met our server.
“Hey . . . . aren’t you that guy that played football for Josey? Do you remember me? I was the girl with the glasses in your Economics class. I used to have the biggest crush on you . . . . . . .”
After I informed her that I wasn’t that guy, our server (let’s call her Chiquita) began asking me questions about where I went to high school, college, yadda yadda yadda.
“You look like you played ball. I’m sure your wife is enjoying your arms”
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel more uncomfortable, my mother chimes in.
“Oh honey, he’s very single. In fact he’s been single for almost . . . . .”
I shot my mother the death stare! Was she trying to auction me off?! In an effort to gain control, I cleared my throat and ordered my drink very matter-of-factly. My mother followed suit and ordered her sweet tea. Chiquita, now blushing, took our orders and scurried away.
“She’s nice. Why didn’t you ask her out?”
I looked at my mother dumbfounded! Was my madre attempting to play love connection with her oldest son? I simply smoothed things out and stated that she wasn’t my type. And then, in typical fashion, she drops a bomb on me.
“Well, according to your little article, you don’t even know when a woman is hitting on you! Obviously, she was waiting on you to flirt back. I just helped you out!”
“Well ma, she’s flirting just to get a better tip. Besides, I’m here for you, not to be hooked up”
“Uh huh . . . . I think I know what your problem is Michael. It’s what you folks call high maintenance? Yeah, that’s it . . . . ”
I took a sip of my water in order to hold my tongue! How in the world could she say that I was high maintenance? Just because I wasn’t visually captured by Chiquita didn’t mean I was high maintenance!
“Well if you must know mother, I prefer women with curves as well as intelligence”
“Uh huh. How has that been working for you? If she’s not a certain height, a certain build, have a certain job, and meets your expectations daily, she’s out the door! That’s the real reason why you didn’t know that young lady in the barber shop was hitting on you, isn’t it?”
I laughed from a healthy place! I could see that she had been talking to Chance’s mother about the blog (since my mother is not on social media). I couldn’t do anything but sit there quietly with my menu. I desired to expound on why I was being so careful and not rush into another relationship but thought better of it. No matter what I would have said, ma dukes wouldn’t understand. It would’ve been more difficult to vindicate why I didn’t want to be in a union where I was miserable all the time. I grew up in that environment and didn’t care to repeat it . . . . again. So instead of debating, I chose to smile and forget the whole thing. However, my mom wouldn’t let the matter ride, which was evident when Chiquita returned.
“Excuse me ma’am. Do you find my son attractive?”
What? Wait a minute? Was this for real? Was my mom actually becoming my match maker?
“Well . . . . . yes . . . . I do ma’am. . . . I’m . . .”
“No need to apologize baby, my son is a little slow. Just leave your name and number on the bill and he will call you tonight. Isn’t that right Michael?”
I couldn’t help but smile and nod my head at the waitress. She took our orders and went about her business. I brushed off what happened and changed gears to family matters. After a while, the uncomfortable proposal was forgotten. Chiquita didn’t make mention of it when she returned to cater to my always empty glass. It was when the to go boxes were brought out and I saw her name and number on my box that fear set in once again.
“See what you did? I can’t take you nowhere!”
I pointed to the box and my mom just smiled.
“Hell, if you would listen to me more often you would be married by now!”
I just shook my head and laughed as I paid for the meal. My mom beamed as she walked back to the car. As we got in and began to drive away, she began to laugh as if she was the one drinking liquor the entire time!
“What are you laughing about?”
“I’m laughing at you silly! She’s cute and you were gonna let her pass you by. Don’t miss something your soul needs while trying to appease what your mind wants. Life is short. If you keep up at the pace you’re going, you’ll be the one with cats in the house!”
After I kissed my mother goodbye and dropped her off, the statement she made continued to play in my mind. Was I really high maintenance? I’m not emotionally needy. I don’t feel that I’m difficult to get along with. I’m not hard to please. So my question for today ladies and gents is this: What makes a person high maintenance? Help a brother out and help me prove my momma wrong . . . . . .
Written by Michael Dock, Founder of The Wednesday Gentleman and Author of the Forthcoming Novel “Addicted to Chaos”