Mama’s Man

Almost since high school I have found through the men I date, as important as I may be in their life, I am not “The Woman” in their life. Their mothers are. Two years ago for Christmas I went home with Da Bod to Napa Valley to spend the holidays with his entire family on his mother’s side.

I arrived to his mother’s house and met her for the first time. Shortly thereafter she told Da Bod where he could find his folded laundry. I told her that this explained so much, and I was going to unfold all of his laundry and make him refold it. While saying this I laughed, implying I was merely joking, but had I not been making a first imression the overwhelming feeling to dump over this lazy asses basket of freshly washed and folded clothing may have prevailed.

Da Bod had made it clear to his mother that we were not dating. This was wholly true… however although we weren’t dating we still had been sleeping together for two years and I still thought that I was going to marry him. (Sad, and it grosses me out now, but too true.)

His mother had her guest bedroom set up for me, and a camping pad and blankets for Da Bod on the living room floor. I was a little surprised by this. Not that I anticipated screwing her son in her own house, but I didn’t understand why exactly he was going to be sleeping on the floor when I had a queen size bed to myself. He said that his mother preferred it that way, since he and I were “just friends”.

That night we both fell asleep in our respective beds. Not too long after his mother went to bed Da Bod crawled in bed with me. We slept the night away and quite early the next morning I heard a soft voice say, “Oh I see” as his mother quietly walked into the room, turned and left. Da Bod got up not too much later and returned to his roll on the floor of the living room. As though he was going to fool or convince his mother that indeed we were merely friends and would never fathom sharing a bed.

A couple nights later, after Christmas dinner with about fifty family members, I offered my seat up in the family room up to Da Bod’s mom and proceeded to walk towards Da Bod, just planning on sitting on the floor by his chair. His mother firmly grabbed my arm and said, “No you sit over here.” Placing me on the opposite side of the room. His aunt looked at her with surprise and then to me and said, “OCG, it’s okay. You can go sit over there if you want.” Not wanting to cause a problem, and honestly not caring that much, I stayed where I had been placed.

I know Da Bod’s mom likes me, his entire family fell in love with me. However, although extreme, this type of experience hadn’t been the first time and wouldn’t be the last time I experienced such things with mothers and their sons. And through this experience I have come to a personal conclusion as to why this is.

All too often, women feel as though they have been screwed over by various men in their life. From fathers to boyfriends to husbands, a lot of women feel like they have been cheated in life by a man. In order to rectify this they (I believe without self-realization) have a son and create their perfect man.

They adore him, he loves her unconditionally and always wants the best for her. When in a bind she can call on him and he will be there for her. Her son is everything she ever wanted in a man. I scare her that I would take that away from her. So the older I get (I know, I should be calling AARP for my card) I have found that this self-made belief is merely confirmed through time.

I wonder if I am the only one that feels this way… I know that some girls have had similar experiences, but I wonder if perhaps I am just picking the wrong guys? Now I wonder if mothers’ feel the same way if their son is gay… or does that seem like double man-power for her? Oh the conundrums of a single girl’s life…