Mortified Doesn't Even Begin to Cover It

My mother dates like a 13-year-old girl: quickly, cyclically, too serious too fast and like every man is "the one." 

So a month ago when she casually mentioned she was going on a date with a man from Idaho I pushed it aside.  Because it's not unusual for her to say something like that.  A week later she mentioned him several times on a shopping trip we took with Marie.  Later that night when Rochelle and Becca joined us for dinner she mentioned him again.  And that's when Becca asked if he was her boyfriend and my mom said yes.  Like I was supposed to have figured it out or asked or something.  No.  You should just be like, "oh hey, that guy?  Boyfriend."  It's not a guessing game.  You should never play that.  You should also never play the guessing game about whether or not you're pregnant, either, because that leads to uncomfortable interactions.

I casually asked her two weeks ago if she was going to see him over the holidays, which was when she let me in on the fact that he was joining us for Christmas dinner AT MY HOUSE.  She did not ask.  She told.  She didn't even tell; she mentioned.  Like this:  "oh he's got the kids on Christmas Eve so he'll be here Christmas afternoon and evening."  We were conveniently celebrating at my place.  Luckily that fell through.  But after Christmas dinner she casually asked when my day off was this week and when I told her she said that we would get together for dinner on that day so I could meet Jeff.  Like hell.

Here's the thing:  Momma's been engaged three times since my parents divorced 9 years ago.  There was Eric, and then some creep named Ray and then some guy named Richard about two years ago that I never met.  But if you throw in the guys she thought she was going to marry then you also need to include Glade and the super weird Kevin.  And probably this old man from my old ward, Gary.  If your mom got around as much as my mom you too would not be inclined to meet every man that she was into for a week.

So when I wasn't even given a choice about meeting Jeff Grubbs with 9 children and a neck that doubles as a chin, I was livid.  Obviously.  I asked Blake to go with me, as I was picking him up from the airport that night anyway.  He wisely declined, so I asked Rochelle, who is a saint, and she agreed.  I told my mom that I was worried about the roads after all the snowy weather we've had.  We met up at the Applebee's where Rochelle says that I said less than 10 words to Jeff Grubbs.  Uh, yeah.  Why would I want to get to know a man that my mom has been dating for three weeks?  Here today, gone tomorrow.  He asked me one question before moving to the topic of how he and my mom wrote to each other via email for a month (8-9 page emails) where they told each other all of their secrets.  It doesn't take a bff to learn my mother's secrets.  She will willingly tell anyone.  So you, Mr. Jeff Grubbs, are not special.  Then he told me that he wanted to do something special for my mom seeings how it was her birthday and all and put his hand toward his pocket, at which point my mom came back to the table from the bathroom.

And that's when I knew.  I needed to vomit or slice my wrists or pull the fire alarm or grow a third nipple faster than Rochelle could down her glass of water. 

After a few minutes Rochelle went to the bathroom and I was left with my mom and Jeff Grubbs.  At which point he told her he wanted to give her something special and she told him that the pistol was enough (WTF!  When were guns an acceptable gift to a woman you've known for three weeks?  WHEN HAS MY MOM EVER WANTED A GUN?!?!?).  Then he pulled something out of his pocket and left it under his hand and I knew exactly what it was and I was tempted to yell "PUT THAT BACK!" but instead started avoiding direct eye contact and drinking my water like it was a glass of bourbon putting me in a state where I would not remember anything the next morning.

He asked my mom if she wanted the special something.  She said yes.  At which point he slid the ring box over to her across the table at an Applebee's with me wanting to have myself committed across the table.  She opened it.  Looked at it.  Didn't say much.  Jeff casually remarked "I was wondering if you would marry me" and my mom said "you've got to be kidding" and then "are you sure you won't change your mind?  Because others have" and I started gulping my water hoping it would drown out everything around me.  She put the ring on, whispered she'd think about it, and Rochelle came back to the table.

No one said anything.  It was totes awkward.

On the way out Jeff Grubbs went to warm up the car and my mom walked me and Rochelle to Petey, Blake's trusty steed.  She asked what I thought and I said something along the lines of "I mean, you should think about this a lot" which is code for "RUN AWAY!"  She said that he had treated her really well and she liked the way things were going.  I said "for the three weeks that you've known him?" and she said "we wrote to each other before that."  Like they've seen each other without their nice faces on in the three weeks that she's known him in person while living in different states.

Jeff Grubbs is not my daddy.  I do not need another 9 step siblings.  And I definitely do not need to be sealed to someone my mom has known for three weeks before taking the plunge.

Why get a job or a college degree when you can marry Jeff Grubbs and take care of him and all of his children while cooking and cleaning all day long? 

Gag me with a dirty baby diaper.

How to Have the Best Bachelorette Party

A.  Go to The Madison on a Tuesday night--no cover charge.
B.  Wear something sparkly:  sequins in the pattern of a cheetah, disco eyeshadow or a wide neck sweater with silver thread.
C.  Sit at the bar.  Ask the bartender wearing the name tag "Gato" for a Shirley Temple.
D.  Down the entire pint that he has given you.  The quicker the better.  Get a stomach ache.  Eat the cherry.  If you don't eat the cherry then feed it to your friend from the end of your straw.
E.  Most likely a semi attractive man will come over to your group of sparkly hott ladies.  He will slide over next to your best friend that no one is good enough for (in your opinion because she's awesome) hoping that he can get her tipsy because she could be even more fun that way.  She will respond with "Shirley Temples" and he will get flustered and ask, "what, there's not a shot of vodka in that?"  You will claim that really he just wanted a pink drink, because pink is in these days.  Especially in beverage form.
F.  Talk loudly about the forthcoming loss of virginity.  Or of your period.  Or your beliefs that all great foreplay starts with dancing.
G.  This will cause the dozen other people at the bar to stare at you.  Including a pair of women.  One of those ladies will come up to you telling you that her friend dared her to ask you something crude, but she wasn't going to ask so please just look offended for comedic reasons.
H.  Insist that she ask you the question.  She will, and it will be something along the lines of "my friend and I heard that someone over here just lost their virginity and we were wondering which one of you it was."
I.  Misunderstand what she said.  Think that she was shocked that there were virgins in your party.  Proudly group the two other virgins in the group and say "the three of us!"  She will be really shocked and your friend will deny it.  Because you are proud of your virginity say that your friend is lying.  When the stranger says that they guessed it was your friend denying everything, get really excited because you think that she thinks that someone wanted to have sex with you (as that's why you wouldn't be a virgin). 
J.  When she leaves and your friends explain that you got the whole situation wrong and that you made it sound like you and two other people lost their virginity at the same time get really awkward.  And then realize that they thought you were a virgin all along and let the reality set in.
K.  Mend your wounds by reminding yourself that the theme of the night is "Lower Your Expectations."
L.  Pay the bartender.  Then get on the platform in the middle of the room with all the couches on it.
M.  Take fun pictures with your friends.
N.  Try to take a group picture.  Rambo who wanted your pink drink will have been watching you (along with everyone else at the bar even though you are now behind them) and will run, jump onto the three foot platform, grab the camera out of your hands and insist on taking the picture for you. 
O.  When he wants you to look like you're having a good time, try to pose like a cheetah to match your sequined shirt.  He will mistake you for a raptor.  He will tell you that the raptor looks good.  Everyone should make a raptor face.  Picture taken.  Rambo who likes a good pink drink will leave.
P.  Dance.  Like no one is looking.  Because they are looking and the only way to actually get the courage to dance will be to pretend that they are not looking. 
Q.  Frame your face.  It's lame but you'll think it looks good.  Also, get bootylicious as much as possible.  Attempt a lift from Dirty Dancing.  Have your friend slide across the coffee table.  Try to catch her if it looks like she'll fall off.  Do your best imitation ballet moves.  Maybe get freaky with a post.
R.  Hopefully a man with an umbrella will approach you on the platform.  He will say "all you ladies look real good."
S.  You will realize that if you ever want to feel like the star of your own life, or just want to feel good about yourself, then you should go to a bar.
T.  After dancing you should leave.  Quickly.  Because you have all made fools of yourselves.  But have had the best time doing it.  And everyone else will feel like they got a bargain because they got a free show while having their drink.  Which is great because you were the most ridiculous people in the bar and the only ones not drinking, Gato excluded.
U.  Maybe go to McDonald's.  But don't get Happy Meals because they suck.  Seriously, you get like four fries.  Instead order a McDouble and some chicken nuggets.  Maybe a hot fudge sundae if you're feeling lucky.  Which you will be because you just had

The Best Bachelorette Party of Your Life.