You Don’t Have To Sleep With Him

It was maybe 15 years ago. More or less.  Whatever. It was a big, festive family occasion. A party that drew family members from 3 boroughs and the burbs.

Most everyone was on their best behavior. People were getting along, or sitting far from the relatives they just couldn’t deal with.

At some point I was making the rounds with my mom. It was her side of the family and I could never remember everyone’s name (my memory always has been shit). One of her cousins asked me about my love life. Even then, when I was so much younger, that was pretty much all anyone wanted to know. No questions about my career. Just, When am I getting married?

The timing was bad. I’d just broken up with a boyfriend. An asshat extraordinaire. And my mom was pissed about it. She was in love with him. Or rather, the idea of him. He met all of her criteria (for the perfect son in law) and then some. He was a doctor and he was handsome. That was pretty much all she needed to know. His personality/character was irrelevant. How could I possibly break up with a handsome doctor? Was I brain damaged?

Which is what my mother said when her cousin asked about my love life.  And she went on and on.  I’m sure it just lasted a couple of minutes, but in my memory it was a long tirade. Until her (older, wiser) cousin interrupted her. It was awesome.

First, she called my mom by her childhood nickname. Then she said, “Look, you don’t have to sleep with him.” And that was that. My life, my decision.

My mom never brought the guy up again. Well, for the rest of the night.

#randomstory