It was supposed to be their first real meeting, and I was thrilled to introduce the man I love to my mom. He showed up with flowers, but she took one look at his muddy boots and kicked him out without a second thought… completely unaware of who he really was and how badly she’d just messed up.
The evening started with such promise.
Mike texted me a photo of himself in his cleanest flannel shirt and blazer, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Looking okay for meeting your mom?” he asked.
I replied with three heart emojis.
How could I have known everything would fall apart so quickly?
“Are you sure about this guy?” Mom asked earlier that week, her eyebrows raised as she chopped vegetables for dinner. Betty, single mother extraordinaire, had opinions about everything, especially my love life.
“Yes, Mom. Mike’s different.” I stole a piece of carrot from her cutting board.
“He works harder than anyone I know.”
“What does he do again?”
“Construction. He’s learning every aspect of the business.”
She made that little humming sound she always made when she disapproved but didn’t want to say it outright. “And his ambitions?
Does he plan to swing a hammer forever?”
“He has plans, Mom. Big ones.”
She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I’m sure he does, sweetie.”
“You’ll see.
Just give him a chance.”
“Saturday at six,” she said. “I’ll make pot roast.”
“He’s going to sweep you off your feet.”
“We’ll see.”
Saturday arrived with the weight of expectation. Mike texted that he was running a few minutes late because the crew had hit complications with a foundation pour, and he couldn’t leave until it was resolved.
“No problem,” I replied.
“Just come when you can.”
Mom, of course, noticed the time. “Is he typically late?” she asked at 6:05 p.m., adjusting the perfectly aligned silverware on our dining table.
“He’s coming straight from work, Mom. Sometimes things come up.”
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