“I’m not sure, Mom,” I say, taking a long drink of my beer. Dad did good with this one. I’ll have to grab some for myself later. “She was taking photos from the floor when I was on stage. I saw her and it was like lightning struck me. I couldn’t look away after that.”
“Oh,” Mom squeals and claps her hands together. “When can I meet her? When will you propose? Oh, my goodness. More grandkids. I can’t wait!”
“Mom!” I yell to get her attention. She’s off in her own little world, painting nurseries, making baby clothes, and planning a wedding. “We’re not dating. Becca doesn’t date. That’s the problem.”
“She doesn’t date? Why?”
I let out a disappointed sigh. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. She shuts down when we talk about that or when we talk about her family too much. But we’ve agreed to be friends. I’m trying to forget I have the feelings I do, but it’s so hard, Mom. She’s amazing. Funny, smart, driven, not to mention she’s so beautiful. We’ve been having a lot of fun together. That’s just going to have to be enough for me.” I knock back the last of my beer.
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Out of all my kids, you’ve always been the one who feels the most. You’ve been looking for true love since you were a little boy. Of course back then, you were positive you were going to marry me.” She smiles wistfully.
I was far too old when I finally conceded that I would, in fact, not be marrying my mom. That was probably my first broken heart. She’s such a good mom. I just figured she would probably also be the best wife. My dad agreed with me. She is the best wife, but she’s his wife, so he’s allowed to think that. But she’s right. Ever since I recovered from the childhood disappointment of learning that I couldn’t marry my mom, I’ve been looking for my own true love.
And now that I’ve found her, she doesn’t want me.
