I let myself in the front door of my Mother’s house and went straight to put the kettle on. I knew she wouldn’t be ready for our junket as she is late for everything. As I was preparing a nice cup of English tea, I heard her come through to the kitchen behind me.
“Do I look alright?” She asked.
I didn’t even bother to turn around. “Yes.” I mumbled wondering why my Mother had a mug with Elvis that sings on it. There was no point me even looking at her because she can’t even go across the road to the CO-OP without a full wack of make up, a blow dry and a sillage of L’eau d’issey in her wake. I knew she looked alright.
“But do I look good enough for a photograph?” She pushed.
My curiosity was piqued. I turned around, Elvis mug in hand and gave her a glance over.
“Yes.. But what do you mean for a photograph?”
“I’ve joined Match.com.” She replied.
“WHAT? Are you kidding me?”
“No. I thought I’d give it a go. I’ve put a picture on already but I thought I needed a better one.”
“ERRR... Hold on a minute.. You’re on it ALREADY? You know its full of serial killers, scammers and sexual deviants right?”
Elvis began to sing “Love Me Tender” at such an inappropriate moment from my mug as I plonked it on the counter.
“No it’s not. I’ve had lots of nice people wink at me already but apparently you get more winks if you have a really nice picture.” She grinned showing her beautiful white teeth through her Estee Lauder, rose blush lips.
“Winks? Are you sure its winks and they haven’t misplaced a vowel? “
“Oh Shut Up!” She admonished. “And take a picture of me please.”
At first I thought this idea was ridiculous and felt I needed to protect her from the realities of the outside world but very soon I realised it would make excellent blog material. How perceptive I was.
These are the suitors who have been eliminated thus far:
32 x 24 -30 year olds. Really? 24 year olds can’t find a date in a club or bar? And they want to date someone who is old enough to be their Mother?
“No. Scammers or deviants. Get rid.” I said as we trolled through the winkers.
“What about this one?” She opened up a profile picture of a reasonable looking guy.
“He’s an artist!” She said with great enthusiasm.
“ERR ..NO!” I replied petulantly. “On the premise that you refused to let me take art at school on the basis it ‘wasn’t a proper subject’ despite it being MY THING, I will not be happy about you waxing lyrical over someone else’s modern art and being hypocritical. That’s the sort of thing that will drive a wedge between the family. We can’t have that.”
Whilst we were considering and deleting the candidates she received a message:
“Hey Gorjusssss... Fancy some flirty chat?”
“Delete.” I said.
“Already done.” She replied.
And then another:
“ Errr... Don’t really know how to say Hi.... So Hi...LOL”
I looked at her. She pressed delete.
“This one has a house in Spain!” She said clicking on a profile.
“He probably found you via your stolen credit card in Barcelona. Too risky. In fact he looks very much like the thieving scumbag that helped you with your case at the train station.” I peered closer to the ipad to get a better look.
“Hmmmm..." We said in unison as she discarded him.
“To be honest, I think a lot of these people could get bit parts in Criminal minds..” I carried on scrolling through the list..
“Wait! He’s gorgeous!” She pointed out someone who did, in fact, look rather nice. Very Taylor Lautner.
After one sentence of his profile paragraph I didn’t like him. “ For one Mother, If he REALLY looks this good then why isn’t he tripping the night shagtastic and secondly, there is no way he’s that old and looks like that. He’s stolen that picture from Twilight.”
And so it went on. Over the last few months she has been having a textual relationship with ‘Dundee Dave’, a brief liaison with a man called Ralph who was really called Wilf.. Wrilf? And parted ways with a man who was so nice she nearly killed him.
“He said I was hard work. I was ever so pleased and took that as a compliment!” She said proudly.
“Because you would.” I said. “ What exactly have you written about yourself on this site?”
She showed me her ‘About me’ spec. Alarming untruths sprang out at me as I read it like “Easy going”and “Calm natured” and “empathetic”.
“Mother, this is wildly inaccurate and whilst I realise you are trying to come across as generally appealing in your profile synopsis, I think it would be better to write one that is totally realistic to ensure that you snag the right man. I shall write one for you.”
Here it is:
Blonde, bubbly and very charismatic but about as sensitive and tactful as a doorman on steroids. If you have flaws, she WILL find them. Highly intelligent and takes no prisoners. Has a very acerbic wit. A member of MENSA and will make sure you are aware of this on a regular basis. If you can’t debate about politics, world affairs or beat her at Trivial Pursuit it’s a non starter. There isn’t anything she doesn’t know and if she hasn’t experienced it then a friend of a friend has. I believe she even knows people that have set foot on the moon. She is the lost Oracle. Expect an argument. Confrontation fuels her more than compliance. If you didn’t have a bad temper before she will certainly help you develop one. Well travelled and intends to see most of the planet before she slips off the dish. Be prepared for cultural excursions (which you will be tested on thereafter) and trips on the local wally wagon (tourist train) for which she has a penchant. Can be an outrageous snob but also gives money to the Big Issue man and feeds old people at Christmas. Indeed, quite humanitarian to those outside her immediate contact. Those within it have to suffer whatever ‘mood swing’ is going on that day. Time keeping is a major issue as she clearly sees punctuality as a virtue of the bored. Likes to do her own thing and is very independent but when she wants your attention you must be ready. If you ever buy her a practical gift rather than a romantic one for her birthday or any other special event she is likely to attack you with it.
If you know any saints, adrenaline junkies or those up for a challenge, let me know.
