the final straw….?
Ok we all remember my friend Amy and the MB? Yes? The one who is up her ass all day at work, follows her around like a puppy dog, she finally likes him back, there are random hook-up events that occur, but any time she tries to even remotely address things, he bolts? Familiar? Yes? Ok good.
Well. Last Thursday Amy and the MB went on a… hmmm. Ok here’s a conundrum. Is it a date if it looks like a date, acts like a date, even smells like a date… but isn’t called a date out loud? I say it’s still a goddamn date and why the fuck is there so much pressure on this stupid effing word.
SO they have tickets to see (what they both consider) this amazing artist. Ok. Many other people ALSO consider this an amazing artist. I only see the allure on occasion. And I never know wtf he is saying.
Anyways. After work on this Thursday afternoon, they head out together, leaving her car somewhere in the city where she can park it, I imagine. They have this fancy-schmancy dinner (kind of on accident, but it’s still fab) and drinks before the show. The show is, to use her words “Ah-MAZING!” and everything they both thought it would be. They sing, they dance, they laugh, they generally have an awesome time.
They do drinks after – one martini too many for Amy and she mentions crashing at his place – to which he responds as if yes, of course that is what would be happening next.
Back to his place. His parents have yet to return home – score for Amy. Good gawd giant red flag number one should be that she has to feel relief that HIS EFFING PARENTS AREN’T HOME, not only so she doesn’t have to have some awkward run-in on the way to the MB’s basement liar, but also so she can use the damn bathroom without trepidation.
If nothing else – this alone should have screamed to all parties (and for different reasons): “…What. The fuck. ARE YOU DOING.”
But, once again, I digress.
Amy gets to use the bath as if the MB actually lived alone like an adult. However, afterward, as she is opening the door to head to the basement, the front door, which is, of course, directly adjacent to the basement door, opens (…and how many commas can I fit in one sentence and still make sense…). A woman enters, whom Amy assumes must be the MB’s sister (given the age Amy assumes she is), although she can’t fathom why the sister is here at midnight (the sister actually lives on her own, so it is not a genetic defect).
Thus… the follow transpires. Ah, the Twilight Zone. You never disappoint.
“Hello! I’m Amy!”
“Hello there, Amy. I’m ____’s mom.”
Well. This is just amazing.
Somehow, despite everything else about this ridiculous scenario, the point that Amy fixates on (I blame the martinis + TZ-induced Denial) is that the MB’s mother is GORGEOUS.
In fact, she decides to mention this.
“You’re kidding! You’re gorgeous!”
“Oh! Well thank you! You’re gorgeous!”
Really? Not only is Amy meeting the MB’s freaking MOTHER on her way down the effing stairs to his effing bedroom, having NEVER been formally introduced (“oh, hai… you don’t know me, I’m gonna go fuck your son now…”)… but… really? “You’re gorgeous!” “No, silly, you’re gorgeous!” I don’t even know where that would come from. High school? Except in high school girls are bitchy… Is this Amy meeting a new Gay Boyfriend?
Now. You might think that the conversation should make a turn towards some kind of normalcy, perhaps awkward small talk?
Normalcy? *Scoff*. You’re in the TZ, baby.
No small talk. In fact, the MB’s Mom doesn’t even pause to ask how Amy knows the MB. Or anything along these lines. Instead…
“Have you SEEN his room?? It is so gross! I don’t know how he lives in there!” (MB Mom)
“OMG I know!” [Yes. Yes of course I have seen your son’s room. I’ve been trying to FUCK him for the past two months!]
“Let’s go and make FUN of him!”
Oh yes. Let’s do that. And can we talk about how much we love New Kids on the Block too? (Sorry – and then I dated myself. Best I could do – I really dislike most current pop so couldn’t think of a more recent example!)
Cue Amy and the MB’s Mom skipping arm-in-arm (just kidding) down the stairs to burst in on the MB. And make fun of his mess. And laugh like this…is… normal…. and “Goodnight! Have fun kids and wear a condom!” (kidding again – but that might have somehow addressed the situation on some effing level, providing some semblance of normalcy to this entire thing.)
I could not COULD NOT make this shit up. OK ok, to be fair, clearly Amy had had a few, and apparently MB’s Mom had just come from trivia, so she wasn’t exactly what you would call stone-cold sober.
The MB’s Mom does indeed leave after she and Amy do indeed make fun of the MB’s messy room. Funny. Woulda thought she’d stay for a slumber party. Maybe they could’ve done their nails and made the MB let them paint his toes.
But even that is awkward… isn’t it? “Ok kids have fun! Nice to meet you, Girl Who Will Now Bone My Son.”
Which, she finally (FINALLY) does.
The end of all this, unfortunately, is (for the love of god) the end of the MB. Friday at work is fine, flirty, and normal. Amy is lulled into false sense of “….maybe?” Weekend comes, they are supposed to meet at a party. He doesn’t show up. She texts him. He never answers. Monday morning… he’s awkward and trying to act like everything is fine. Once he feels safe again, it’s back up Amy’s butt. And then… he turns down a drink invitation.
To go watch TV on the couch at home. With, who else, his parents. Literally.
So. Nothing new there. Despite the AWESOME DATE and the sex.
And that would be enough from the MB. I hope. She hopes.
God gawd WTF.
At least she got some decent sex out of it. Of course, the other unfortunate thing here is… once you start having some sex, you just want it more.