I met a guy. We had a date. It went insanely well. I brought him home.
Fast forward an hour, as we’re naked and intertwined on my living room floor, there came a knock at my door. There’s a fabulously kinky and naked man in my living room. I’m in the kitchen donning nothing but thigh high black stockings. I look through the peephole.
My mother is standing in the hallway.
I refused to open the door, for obvious reasons, and yelled through to her that I was fine. Within minutes, my cellphone started going crazy. My siblings and in-laws were texting like mad – some sending pictures of men from a sex offender website with the message, “Is this him?”, others asking if I was dead, still others asking if I was getting lucky. After I’d had enough of hearing my text alert firing in rapid succession, I sent out a message: “OMFG! I am 35 years old! Does the entire family need to know that I’m having sex?! Leave me the fuck alone!”
In response, I received one last message before my phone fell silent for the night: “Call mom’s cell so she knows you’re alive.” So there I stand – naked – with an equally naked man staring at me in my state of utter disbelief and frustration, and I call my mother.
“Why wouldn’t you open the door? Are you being held against your will? Did he hurt you? If you need us to come help you, just say something nonsensical and we’ll be there to get you.”. She started crying.
“I’m fine, mom. I promise. Everything is fine. I’m gonna go now.”
“Something isn’t right. I can hear it in your voice. What is he doing to you. Just say something and we’ll come to the rescue.”
“Mom! I’m fine! Absolutely fine! I swear to you nothing is wrong! Getting off the phone now.”
She sniffled. ”Okay then. If you’re sure. I love you.”
“I’m absolutely sure. Love you, too, mom.”
I walked back to the living room, mortified, and apologized profusely. Thankfully, the man has a sense if humor. He found it hysterical.
Today, my niece graduated from high school. I debated long and hard over whether to even attend the ceremony and be forced to do the walk of shame before my entire family. Then it occurred to me: if I didn’t show up, they would have relapsed into last night’s state of psychotic frenzy.
So I went.
Mom grabbed me as soon as I entered the room. ”What if you were dead?!”
“I’d have still been dead this morning.”
“Just forget it,” she said. ”I’ll never bother myself with your safety again. I don’t care what you do. We’ll just have to call the cops after we find your body.”
“How was your date?” asked my aunt.
“It was great. He seems like a really nice guy. I’d love to see him again. Not sure I’m going to ever get the chance now.”
My uncle leaned over toward me, “The way I look at it, if he cones back after this, you need to tie a rope around that boy and hold on for dear life.”
Next time, I’ll just send a Facebook invite: “I’m getting laid. Do you plan to attend?”