Now that I’m living with them, my mother has a new lease on life, a reason to wake up in the morning. She has found her life’s purpose: to get me married.
Which is funny, because I can’t say I’m much of a looker these days. I eat about 12 Mallomars a day and haven’t gotten out of my sweats in who knows how long. Because, as I’ve said before and will say again, when you’re unemployed and living with your crazy parents, why bother getting into or out of your pajamas? Please, you’re lucky if I change my underwear.
Well, my mother apparently found a “gorgeous” single guy for me from “the community.” This is what she tells me in the car on the way to a restaurant that I thought I was going to with my parents. They’ve tricked me. They are actually driving me to my “date” which they’ve set up. I’m confused, shocked, scared, and maybe yes…just a little hopeful. I’m also hoping I changed my underwear.
They wish me luck as they drop me off in the parking lot like an abandoned puppy. They tell me the guy is going to drive me home. And they warn me not to talk about getting fired, because it’s un-attractive. I think about this gorgeous guy I’m going to meet who’s going to drive me back home in his Ferrari and not be able to keep his hands off me, because I’m an amazing poet.
I walk in the restaurant, which is apparently a kosher Japanese joint, and I find my date. The “gorgeous guy” from the “community” is actually the single rabbi from the B’nai Yisrael Synagogue. And, he’s hairy. Oh my God. What have they done? Cold sweat starts trickling down my skin.
He asks me about myself. I immediately tell him about getting fired. About the poetry I write from my angst. Then, he starts talking about the Kabbalah and how poetic it is. I want to be honest and tell him this won’t work, but I don’t want to be mean. So many guys have been mean to me.
My inner voice says, “Just be kind and get to the end of the date. It’ll be easy, just do it.” But, unfortunately I don’t listen to my inner voice. I suddenly blurt out, “I wish they had sweet and sour pork. It’s my favorite.” He looks up at me and tries really hard to force a smile. I just told a rabbi I liked pork. My passive aggressive self has risen up and showed its asshole face. Is it over yet?
Later, when he drops me off in his ’92 Nissan Sentra, I thank him graciously but don’t invite him in. I run to the door, close it behind me, and look for my mother with a vengeance. My mother is in the kitchen, my father glued to the game in the den. She has an enormous grin, “Well… When’s the wedding?”
“Are you kidding me??? What were you thinking? Why would you do that to me?”
“What, come on. You didn’t like him?
I am so frustrated. “You ambushed me! I didn’t ask to be set up!”
My father blurts out, “What are you waiting for? You’re practically an old maid. You’re lucky we took action.”
My mother adds on, “I thought you would appreciate it. Did he at least pay for dinner?”
“No, I used my food stamps. Why don’t you get it? This is MY life, and I’m trying to get it together. I am trying SO hard to just get it together. I don’t need to be set up with the rabbi, or the local butcher, baker or candlestick maker. Please, just let me be!”
She replies, “I think you’re very ungrateful.” I can see she’s hurt, and I should walk away, but I dig further. I am just so frustrated that she has never SEEN me. The real me. All this time, and she has no idea who I really am, what I love, or what I am about. And, I hate the fact that now I made some man feel bad about himself. I wasted his time and money on me, and this could have all been avoided if my parents were SANE!
My father is hurling insults at both her and me. My mother is visibly hurt. I’ve shot her down. I go up to my bedroom and make my body tiny against the wall. I want to disappear.
I look at the pictures on the shelves. There’s one of my mother as a little girl, posing with my grandfather. Is this the kind of life she wanted? To wear iguana-patterned tracksuits from Target and be called a horse’s ass by her husband? I feel bad for yelling at her. I realize how little I put myself in other people’s shoes. Only my own.
…If only she had set me up with a hot guy.
My Parents Are Crazier Than Yours 
thedailydish
February 3, 2011
I don’t think it would be possible for me to enjoy a blog any more than i do yours. And I hope, in some small way, that makes up for the sorrow and disappointment you felt after your unsuccessful date with the hairy rabbi.
Myra
February 3, 2011
It totally does. I enjoy hearing from you every time!
livelaughloveliquor
February 3, 2011
OMG, you poor thing! I was single 5 years in between marriages. A GREAT way to get out of an unwanted date is to fake the Hershey Squirts. Double over in pain and announce youre having gastrointestinal trouble, and I can guarantee its the kind way to get rid of them. xoxoxoxo hugs to you….the right one will come along if you want it. and have you seen “pajama jeans?” google it. they may be right up your ally.
p.s. I think i just commented in the wrong place. sorry!
Myra
February 3, 2011
OMG, I am laughing so hard. If I had mascara on, it would be running! Thanks for sharing that.
Tim Lundmark
February 3, 2011
I love jammies. If I could live my entire life in them I would be the happiest man alive. You may be unemployed but at least you have this wonderful gift.
Siouzie
February 3, 2011
“I wish they had sweet and sour pork. It’s my favorite” Fabulous. Brilliant.
lifeintheboomerlane
February 3, 2011
Hey, thanks for liking my last post. This post is really funny. I’m from Philly, and although I’m your parents generation, I do remember that mentality. My first husband wasn’t Jewish, and when I told my parents we were getting serious (they, of course, didn’t know I was dating him), they said “What’s the rush?.” That’s the best way to squelch a Jewish mom’s desire to see her daughter married.
CP
February 4, 2011
Myra;
I know how you must feel even though I’m a dude. I also just moved in with my Mom (widowed) back into my old bedroom. It still has my soccer trophies on the shelves, posters and Playboy pinups on the walls. Kind of pathetic like I traveled in a big circle; but, I hope to break out soon.
CP
Myra
February 4, 2011
Hi CP – so glad to hear your situation. I think so many of us can relate. The best thing is to find humor in everything and remember that all situations are temporary. I feel like even now, I have so much to learn. Stay in touch!
-M
p.s. – are the Playboy pinups still hot?
Erin
March 25, 2011
“I realize how little I put myself in other people’s shoes. Only my own.”
Wow. You’re really making me think here. My parents are far from crazy, they’re actually pretty damn cool; even with the comments on what I’m doing wrong. I’m still glad I didn’t have to move back in with them, but if I had to, they would let me.
I’ve barely talked to them since I lost my job, in fact, they have no idea that I’m unemployed. I should call them more, or even text, I just don’t want to hear the comments about what I’m doing wrong, I’m grown, it is my life, I don’t need to hear these pep talks. They didn’t work when I was 12, they don’t work at 32.
But much like you hurt your Mom’s feelings about the date, I’m hurting my Mom’s by not keeping in contact; maybe I’ll make those phone calls more often.
TrippinwithJodi
March 14, 2013
Great blog, and post! Made me laugh out loud, thanks for sharing!:)
Corner of Confessions
April 11, 2013
LOL you are hysterical! Sorry you had to endure a forced date.
claudiabette
April 18, 2013
” I am just so frustrated that she has never SEEN me. The real me. All this time, and she has no idea who I really am, what I love, or what I am about. ”
OMGosh…this is so my mother. The woman birthed me, raised me, is supposed to know me better than anyone else and still, she knows nothing about who I am.
Or I think she may know who I am and doesnt’ like it because it is nothing like HER. I’m have the same characteristics as her but think VERY differently (especially when it comes to child rearing)