Friday, March 2, 2007

Verdana Speaks

This one is mostly an appeal to all the moms out there. Moms of grown daughters. Psycho moms of grown daughters.

I am unhappy with Beautiful's choice of boyfriend. (Incidentally, he is officially her fiance, not just boyfriend--but I get some smug, self-righteous sense of control by disdainfully referring to him as her 'boyfriend'.)

So, as I was saying, I am unhappy with Beautiful's choice of boyfriend. He's just so, well, he's . . . he's just so existent.

Beautiful and I had been sailing along smoothly, having a great life together, when he showed up and ruined everything.

Beautiful didn't get her driver's license until she was 18. She and I shared a vehicle until she was close to 19. We spent a lot of time together as a result of sharing rides for so many years.

Beautiful chose not to start dating until she was 18. With intricate work schedules and other social obligations, she and her friends didn't always have the chance to spend weekends together. That left Beautiful and me in each others' company much of the time. It was a beautiful thing. We became very close friends (in spite of my previous holier-than-thou attitude about misguided parents thinking they could be "friends" with their children.)

Beautiful and I are so much alike in so many ways that we understand each others' thought processes. It makes for some hysterical inside jokes. With Number One Son at college, Little Guy ever a ward of the neighborhood at large, and my sweet Mister usually away working, Beautiful and I depended heavily on just the two of us.

And then one day, he appeared. They met at the coffee shop where Beautiful works. Soon there were phone calls. Lots of really intrusive phone calls. Only, Beautiful didn't see it that way. She seemed to enjoy, and even revel in, this overabundance of meddlesome calls. While she and I were trying to watch important episodes of "So You Think You Can Dance" her phone would ring and it would be him. And instead of blowing the calls off with the mind to ring him back after the crucial outcome of our show (like she would have done with any of her other friends) she actually answered those calls. What was up with that? And for some reason, she was chatting and laughing happily with him.


Not me.

And if I called her when I knew she had time to kill between work and a dance class, suddenly, in the background, I could hear his voice. What was he doing there? Who invited him to interpose?

Soon, not only were they chatting on the phone and spending her break time together, they were together All. The. Time. They spent time at our house. They spent time at his house. They went out for dinners and movies and long drives and long walks. They went to the library together. They went to parks to picnic and read and talk together. How did this boy take over the role that used to belong to me? Usurper.

We were doing marvelously before Yoko came along and broke up the band. What could he possibly offer her that I wasn't already giving her?

So, fine, he's charming. And handsome. And he loves her. And she loves him. And he is encouraging about her dance and choreography hopes. And he's funny. And he's a big, affectionate teddy bear of a guy. And they emotionally support each other. And they want all the same things. And he sees all that is beautiful in her lovely soul. Whatever.

I don't see it. Do you? What could he possibly offer her that I wasn't already giving her?

I just want my friend back. All to myself, thank you very much. Blah, blah, blah . . . unnatural attachment . . . blah, blah, blah . . . cutting the apron strings . . . blah, blah, blah . . . Ed Gein . . . I just want my friend back. Without him.

Outside of staging a covert sabotage operation (and believe me--Verdana has put some serious thought into that angle!) I don't see this relationship ending any time soon. Damn.

I think I am going to have to learn to live with--and maybe even like--him, FT. (And I should probably let you all in on what FT stands for: it's the abbreviated form of Friend Thief. Or something.)

I can't be the only mom who finds herself irrationally jealous of her daughter's significant other, can I?


File this one under: Feelings I never dreamed I would encounter--and then I had grown children . . .

1 comment:

smilnsigh said...

You are so cute. You say lots of those *unmentionable* things. Those feelings we aren't _supposed_ to have. But do, anyway. And you wrap them up in satire and humor and almost... almost hide them.

But come on, any live human being knows them well. Those nasty little forms of feelings we aren't realllllly suppposed to have.

I love the way you do this!

I see some blogs say they are sort of copywritten or something. Whatever it is, I think you ought to do it. You just might want to make money one day, with your writings here. You are good. :-)

{who hopes she did not shock.....}