I threw my mother a bone.
It was one of those nights where I had a million things to do- a midterm, multiple papers, homework assignments, meetings, the whole shebang- and my gut instinct was telling me to sprawl out on my annoyingly uncomfortable sofa watching Top Chef while eating popcorn off my belly. So I did just that and ended up feeling not as sexy as I would have liked.
Maybe sexy isn’t quite the right word, but when you get to the point where you’re using your belly as a serving platter, you feel dangerously close to rock bottom (the first world version, of course) and there isn’t much you can do except email your mother and complain…which is exactly what I did.
An hour after the clock struck 12 and I was plucking the last of the kernels off of my body, I received the following email:
Now to preface this and for all you haters out there, I know my mother doesn’t say things in the most politically correct way but understand that she only has good intentions. And that when dealing with my mother, most people just need to do it with a grain of salt.
I, on the other hand, felt like I needed buckets of salt and potentially a sedative after I read the first couple of lines in her email. Seriously, how would you feel if the woman who had given birth to you could only paint a portrait of you in which one of your strongest offerings were that you were “not super crazy”? She nearly lost me when she said “boys…will not feel comfortable or safe to be around with you.” What am I, a predator??
But once I got past the backhanded compliments, she did bring up some valid points that yeah, we’ve all heard before but need to be reminded of every once in a while. For instance, I feel like whenever I talk about potential suitors, I may or may not bring up a person’s personality, intelligence, or at times, even the size of his wallet, whereas I will most certainly mention his looks. Now that I’ve admitted it on paper, it makes me feel pretty damn superficial. Or maybe it just takes your mother to call you out on placing more of an emphasis on someone’s looks over the content of their character.
And let’s talk about this mythical Mr. Right that “sincerely cares about you” (I mean, I would hope so!) First off, I’m sure she meant to say “having lots of guys interested in you is unnecessary” rather than her jarring choice of unrealistic. Granted, it would be nice to have a whole lot of dudes interested in me but doesn’t quality matter more than quantity in this front?
My mother is a big believer in serendipity. I, like a lot of you reading this article, go to a school where I can’t afford to just hope that my homework will be completed in a happy accident and call it a day. It’s the same with the job hunt: I feel like I can’t just leave my fate in the hocus pocus hands of serendipity so I line up as many opportunities as I can so at the end of the day, I can pick the one I want. It’s bizarre to realize, but I end up applying the ruthless methodology I use for looking at internships to my love life.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, my mom just waited patiently until one day when she literally ran into my dad at the grocery store where he was buying pig’s feet (“to do a scientific experiment”, he says). Not to mention he got so nervous he shoved the piggy parts in my mom’s face so she couldn’t quite see what he looked like the first time they met. I’m not sure what part of that exchange made my mother think he was worth investing time in, but a couple years later they got hitched and well, then came my siblings and I.
I don’t think I’m quite ready to ignore a person’s looks or leave myself completely at the whims of serendipity but maybe I’ll send out one less mass snap chat (fyi: apparently it’s the new booty call) and continue a conversation with someone I think is intelligent rather than chiseled. Preferably both, but I’ll make sure the former takes precedence. Baby steps, but it’s what my mother would recommend in order to find someone, Mr. Right, I could be crazy about
Because, much like how it is between my mother and I, as long as you and Mr. Right mutually care and appreciate each other, crazy is fine…just as long as you aren’t super crazy.