That night, Mom sat next to me on the couch while we ate ice cream and watched black and white movies full of men performing grand romantic gestures. That night a tradition was born: Cary Grant movie dates, either alone or with mom, after each lousy boyfriend. And there were plenty of lousy boyfriends.
Maybe I was a novelty—fun at first, but the charm wore off fast.
I reached over the arm of the couch to the basket of blankets and pulled off the top one.
My relationships all started great, but then it would start to shift with remarks about my style, movie choice, my love of sweets, and my “unique” personality. I found myself tempted to shift. To change so they might want to stay. After my last boyfriend, I decided I was done. It was too hard to try to choose between loving me or being with a man… I chose me.
My phone vibrated.
Jane: I’m coming over if you haven’t texted in five minutes with a name and profile pic you are considering.
I refocused on the app and scrolled mindlessly through the singles within a twenty-mile radius, willing the clock to move faster.
I had no desire to date. Playing Cupid was my new life mission, but I would scroll a few minutes for cupcakes.
An ad popped up and covered Bachelor #4 and his cat, Sprinkles. It was advertising local events for singles that were fifty and older. Well, if that was where my man was, that would be discouraging.
I checked the clock and decided time counted as double when on a dating app. I took a screenshot and zoomed in around the cat Sprinkles.
Emma: So far, this one is the most promising. =)
A knock sounded at the door.
Leo’s was early!
I grabbed my purse hanging next to my jacket and keys underneath the black and white movie poster ofMy Favorite Wife.I looked up at Cary Grant kissing Irene Dunn. If people could wish on a star, then a Cary Grant picture should count as the same thing, right?
Cary Grant light, Cary Grant bright, I wish I may, I wish I might have my own Cary Grant tonight.I chuckled at my wit.
There was an aggressive knock at the door.
Maybe they were fast because I was becoming a regular. I flinched. Was that good or bad?
Good because it was fast…but bad that an Italian restaurant knew me well enough to ask if I wanted my usual and the delivery guy knew my name. Meh.
My mouth watered at the thought of their breadsticks. I fished my wallet from my purse and swung the door open.
I stepped back.
Not Leo’s.
Mom stood on the doorstep with her graying shoulder-length hair, dark cardigan, and tan slacks. She eyed my stained pj’s andgreasy hair pulled into a ponytail, her lips pulled down into a frown.
“Mom?” I was sure she had plans tonight with Betty and the other Bunco ladies. “Why are you here?”
She stepped into the apartment. “Now, is that any way to greet your mother?” She leaned in for a hug and a not too subtle sniff.
“Mom… I shower regularly. It’s Saturday. Pj’s are an all-day requirement.” I stepped back, giving mom room to step into my apartment.
“I was thinking we could go out tonight.” Mom could not stand my current weekend routine or lack thereof. I could admit it, I’d been in a funk, but it was because I hadn’t found my next Cupid project. Romance paints the world in bright colors, and finding that light for others made me happy.
I walked toward the kitchen. “I thought you had plans tonight?”
“I thought we could have plans. Betty’s son is working at the new pizza place in Indian Creek Plaza. How about we go there?”
“Really?” My face pulled down in a frown. “Brett? Didn’t he just graduate?” I grimaced, thinking about his ungodly height and love of Pokémon.
“Oh, he’s not that bad. He’s better than the guys you have been dating.” She placed her hands on her hips.
