Chapter 10 Listen to Your Mama
Up until now, I’ve told you about the dating experiences of my friends. Now, I’m going to tell you about mine.
My late mom could size up a person’s character in five minutes. She was never wrong. Never. I dated men of many colors and nationalities and my mother never made judgments based on culture or color. That’s not to say that appearances didn’t count. If a man was polite, well-groomed and well-dressed, he got extra points.
She correctly predicted who would be reliable and who would dump me: her version of, “He’s just not that into you.” She knew when a guy was lying or making excuses and when he was sincere. She would say things like, “I just don’t trust him,” or, conversely, “He’s a good boy.”
When I met my future husband, Michael, he immediately began hot pursuit of me. I just wasn’t that into him. He wasn’t my type. My mother knew that my type had thus far proved unreliable and, in her opinion, unworthy of me. By the time I met Michael, I was 24, and had never really been in love. I had certainly wanted to be, and had tried to convince myself that I had loved one long-term boyfriend. The truth was, though, that I was a complete stranger to being in love.
My mother at once recognized that Michael was different from any man I’d previously dated. He called when he said he would, was always on time, and invited me out often with plenty of advance notice. I toyed with the idea of breaking up with him because I wasn’t that attracted to him (even though he was handsome.) My mother said, “Just give him a chance. You don’t have to marry him.”
She had been right about so many other men that I took her advice. Michael was a gentleman and I knew he wouldn’t rush me into a physical relationship, so he unknowingly — or perhaps knowingly — gave me the time and space to grow my feelings for him. For the first couple of dates, he didn’t even try to kiss me good-bye at the end of our date. Then, on our third date, we were at the grocery store shopping for a picnic and he gave me a peck on the lips. I wasn’t expecting it and I was surprised at how pleasant it was.
Well, we went on our picnic. We kissed in earnest, and I literally seemed to hear bells. I knew I could love this man, or at least be wildly attracted to him. His kindness and patience — and his passion for me — made me fall in love with him.
We were married for 14 years, until he died in a car accident (see blog post COINCIDENCE OR PARANORMAL ACTIVITY). I cannot imagine a happier marriage.
My mom adored him, and she was right.
The fact is, our parents have met many more people than we have. They’ve been burned, disappointed, cheated and delighted more than we have. Their experiences make them better judges of character. So unless your parents hold racial or cultural prejudices for no logical reason, they can probably judge a man’s character better than you can. At least listen with an open mind. They could save you plenty of heartache.
To purchase my fiction for $3.99
REGRET NOT A MOMENT amzn.com/B00C3PAR1W
NO MORE LONELY NIGHTS amzn.com/B00CJYQB5S