He Brought His Mom on Our First Date, It Was Awkward

The young man came to the restaurant with both his mother and him present at the table. His mom. Her floral dress with a large hat made her appear like a candidate for a Southern drama role. I aimed to comprehend what unfolded in front of me with all the willpower I possessed. Was this a joke? A test? The unexplained formal meeting procedure remained a mystery until the time approached me.

He brought her forward to introduce her to me and that became his full description of the situation. Her regal manner of sitting down on the chair created a powerful impression on him when he helped her to her seat. I gripped my purse firmly as I stood in hesitation about leaving the room or remaining for dialogue.

The elegant aristocrat stretched her hand for greeting with metallic rings that appeared stronger than shields. Her intense eye examination proved cold but she maintained a gentle smile when she glanced at me the second time. I shook her hand to her surprise while disregarding the heavy sweating on my palms.

I verbally conveyed “Nice to meet you too” but my voice registered an obviously strange tone than my typical speaking tone. A unique feeling overtook me when I moved my chair in front of them to interrupts their conversation.

She decided on her chardonnay drink before checking out the menu because she ordered the wine to be served immediately. He ordered a beer. The glass of wine seemed too uncertain and adventurous so I asked for plain water instead since my unsteady hands could not manage a more advanced beverage.

The conversation started innocently enough. She inquired about what I did for a living and my home situation with my recreational activities. He joined in with standard first-date conversation although it was more than their first encounter. It was an interrogation. The conversation flowed naturally as I answered her questions although each time I looked at him he vehemently agreed with whatever she said.

She started relating various anecdotes of his childhood. Humiliating ones. He attempted making pancakes and, as a result, created a catastrophic kitchen blaze. He was so overcome by stage fright that he started sobbing when he forgot his lines during a school drama. He brought home a stray cat that he wished to keep until neighbors revealed that the cat belonged to them.

While he bantered with the crowd he had a stiff jaw position. He attempted to look like he was relaxed but his mortification was almost palpable to me. I could not decide if I should laugh or sympathize with his situation. The situation became so strained that I pretended to agree with everything that he was saying for the whole instant and nodded my head like a puppet.

Weary overcame me just when the food put in front of our table. Her words still wrapped us in their heavy tone. My attention diverted from my salad as I acted as though I had interests in hearing her rendition of his prom night at high school and my mind raced wildly. What was I doing there? Why had he invited his mother? Ought I have picked something out of this meeting as a sign?

When the bill came, she made a point to pay. “My treat,” she declared, waving her credit card as a magic wand. I was willing to object, but I was too exhausted. I simply sat there, as if a naughty child who had been pulled along on a mission.

She hugged me on the way out of the restaurant. It was unexpected, and I stiffened for a moment before half-grudgingly massaging her back. “You’re lovely,” she said, stepping back but holding me off at arm’s length. “I hope we’ll see more of you.”

I smiled and nodded, but inside, I was screaming. He walked her to her car, and I stood on the sidewalk, wishing I would just leave. Then he came back, smiling as if everything were fine.

“So, that went pretty well,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.”.

I stared at him, trying to think of what to say. “You brought your mom on our first date,” I said after a while, my voice flat.

He shrugged. “She wanted to meet you. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” I repeated, my voice increasing. “It’s our first date. First dates are all about finding out things about one another, not. whatever that was.”

He looked at me, his smile fading. “I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound sorry. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

I had no idea what to do. Part of me wanted to laugh, part of me wanted to cry, and part of me wanted to move as far away from here as I could. But all I did was just stand there and stare at him, wondering if this was an omen or a really bad start.

“I should be off,” I said finally, moving in the direction of my vehicle.

“Wait,” he called after me. “Can I see you again?”

I stood there, hand on the car door. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I need to think about it.”

He nodded, for the first time that night, looking disappointed. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll call you.”

I got into the car and drove away, my mind spinning. It wasn’t until I reached home that I was still trying to make sense of what had happened. I replayed the evening in my head, trying to figure out if I’d blown things out of proportion or if this was as bizarre as it felt.

In the end, I decided it didn’t matter. If it was a red flag or just a strange misstep, I did know this one thing for sure: I wasn’t ready for a relationship pre-packaged with a built-in audience.

Just so you know: It’s not my personal experience, I just take a story idea from the internet.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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