Wednesday, July 18, 2007
I'm a Bad Daughter
Years ago, when I was single and dating, I decided to check out the online dating thing. This was long before Match.com and similar sites were even in existence. I think I used some kind of personals ad at Yahoo or AOL.
I was cautious. I emailed with the potential date for a while before giving my phone number. Even then, I only gave my cell number so the potential date (or serial killer) couldn’t do a reverse look-up and find out where I lived. When I first went out with the person, it was a lunch date. Lunch dates are perfect. You’re in broad daylight; you drive yourself to a public place; you meet. If the chemistry is not there or they give you the creeps, you have the excuse of getting back to work.
It was fun. I met some interesting people. I didn’t think it was all that daring. One day, I was driving to meet a fellow I’d met online. My mother called. She asked what I was doing.
“Oh, I’m going to meet a guy for lunch.”
“That sounds nice! Where did you meet him?” my mother asked. She asked because she’s my mother and mothers want to know these kinds of things.
“Online,” I replied.
“(gasping noises) What?!? Where?! How do you know he’s not a murderer? That’s not safe!” she calmly replied. Okay, it wasn’t calm. I was just seeing if you were paying attention. She replied like that because she’s my mother and mothers respond to things this way.
I explained the safety precautions I’d taken. I did my best to reassure her that I was going to be just fine. It didn’t work. Mom insisted that I call her the very minute I got back out to my car after lunch. If I recall correctly, she wrote down his name or something, too.
I am a bad daughter.
I did call my mother as soon as I got back in my car after lunch. Did I mention that I am a very bad daughter? You see, I called her but I muffled my voice and pretended I was terrified when she picked up the phone.
“Mom? I’m in the trunk of a car and I think we’re headed east.”
She did forgive me. She forgave me because she’s my mother and mothers do that kind of thing.