At 37, I thought I had finally reached a point where I could date in peace. I had a job, my own apartment, and even my own bank account. I felt independent. But little did I know, my mom had other plans.
I always knew I had a mom, but sometimes it felt like she was everything in my life. Every day, without fail, she’d call me with the same questions:
“Are you wearing warm socks?” or “Did he look at you with respect and not… interest?”
I worked at a museum, I adored art history, and I had two degrees. Yet, no matter what I accomplished, whenever I saw “Mom calling” on my phone, I found myself straightening up, just like when I was a kid.
She had a way of controlling everything. From when I should go to bed, to what color I painted my nails. Once, I ordered salmon delivery, and 20 minutes later, my phone buzzed.
“I saw him go into your house. Was that him?” she asked.
“Mom, are you spying on my house?”
“I was just sitting in the car nearby. In case of suspicious movement.”
She had binoculars. And a notebook. She called it “just in case.”
When I was younger, it seemed cute. But as I got older, it became less charming. By the time I turned 30, I started questioning what had always seemed “normal.”
Then, at 37, I met Theo.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t tell Mom right away. It felt like a small act of rebellion, my first grown-up secret. And of course, it lasted three days. Because, naturally, Mom ruined it.
But I’ll get to that part.
I was preparing for a dinner with Theo, the first time he was coming over to my place. I baked a pie I found online — definitely not from Mom’s sacred recipe book. It came out a little burnt, and the chicken was a bit dry, but those were my mistakes. My life.
I couldn’t help but imagine my mother’s face if she saw the meal. It would be a guaranteed explosion. I smiled quietly to myself as I checked the candles, thinking of her.
A week earlier, she had declared, “I want to meet him. In person. At my house. At the table. With my questions.”
“Mom, let me be an adult for once. I’ll decide when to introduce you,” I had said.
She backed off—for once. It felt odd, but I didn’t think much of it. Big mistake.
That night, Theo arrived. He brought tulips, non-alcoholic wine (knowing I’d be tired from work), and a cake from the bakery I always visit for lunch.
“I just wanted to get everything right,” he said, setting the plates down on the table.
“Theo, with you, it always feels right,” I replied, feeling warmth blooming in my chest.
We talked for hours. Laughed. Dreamed. He shared his vision of a future together.
“Imagine… a little house by an old lighthouse,” he said, his voice full of hope.
“And in the basement—an archive of old love letters,” I added.
“You’d preserve them, and I’d write new ones.”
Candles burned low, and soft music played. As he touched my hand, I felt a connection I hadn’t known in years.
“I thought after all the heartbreaks, nothing would ever happen again. And then you came along…” he said.
And right at that moment…
“ACHOO!”
From the closet.
We froze.
“You’re not alone?” Theo asked, looking at me with wide eyes.
I stood up. My heart raced as I approached the closet and opened the door.
“Mooom?!” I exclaimed.
There she was. In the dark. Wearing a headlamp. Holding a thermos.
“What… what are you doing?!” I asked, half-laughing, half-crying.
“Oh, hi! I was just checking if you’re storing things in your closet without lavender,” she mumbled, trying—unsuccessfully—to sound convincing.
“You broke into my apartment?!”
“I was just making sure. Listening. Evaluating. I didn’t interfere!”
Theo, somehow, still managed to smile politely.
“Good evening. I’m Theo. Very nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.
“Theo. Short. Like most male patients,” my mom replied, plopping down on the couch. “Sit. Let’s get to know each other.”
I wanted to run. But Theo, brave as ever, sat down.
And the interrogation began.
“Do you have a job?”
“Yes. I teach literature…”
“Do you work 9 to 5?”
“Flexible hours.”
“So, no structure. Got it. Do you drink alcohol?”
“A glass of wine, sometimes…”
“Sometimes means regularly.”
“Mom…”
“Quiet, Eliza. I’m asking.”
Then, she turned to him again. “How many women before my daughter?”
“I… excuse me?”
“Are you deaf?”
“No, I just think that’s a bit…”
“You should always think. Before approaching a woman with serious intentions.”
Theo looked at me like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes silently asked, Is this a joke?
I silently responded with my gaze: No. This is my life.
Mom stood up. “Now, a test.”
“A test?” we both said in unison.
“Wipe the table. With a sponge. No streaks. If there’s even one mark, you’re not for her.”
“Mom, enough!” I was desperate. But to my surprise, Theo stood up, went to the kitchen, grabbed the sponge, and wiped the table until it was spotless.
Mom ran her finger across the surface, checking for any imperfections.
“Hmmm. Survived. For now,” she said, then handed Theo a piece of paper. He smiled as he skimmed it, but then his face fell.
“What’s this?” he asked.
He handed it to me, and I looked down at the list.
RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGHTER
- Have a job.
- Understand I don’t like you.
- I am EVERYWHERE.
- You make HER cry — I make YOU cry.
- Be home 30 minutes early.
- SHE is my PRINCESS. Not your conquest.
- I don’t mind going to jail.
The last line had “Daugter” written with a typo, which felt like the cherry on top of this nightmare.
“Mom, it’s time for you to go,” I said, a mix of fury and exhaustion in my voice.
“Oh, sweetie, if he leaves at the first sign of trouble, is he even a man?” she asked.
“He didn’t leave me. He said he’d call,” I replied.
“Same thing.”
“Maybe he just didn’t enjoy being around you?” I muttered.
“You’re overreacting,” she said, waving me off.
“You crossed the line, Mom! Please, leave. I want to be alone.”
Her words echoed in my head. Had Theo really left… forever?
Three days passed. No texts. No calls. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I sent him a short message:
“I’m sorry for how everything went. You didn’t deserve that.”
Seen. No reply.
Then, the knock at the door. My heart skipped a beat. I opened it. It was Theo, standing there with a bouquet of flowers.
“Come on. I’ve planned a date… for you and your mom.”
I blinked in disbelief. “What?”
“Just trust me.”
He ushered me to the car, where my mom sat, grumbling about something.
“Where are we going? I have to defrost the freezer!” she said, already stirring up trouble.
“It’s a surprise,” Theo said with a smile.
We picked up my mom, and the first stop? His lecture on love in literature.
Mom and I sat in the back, listening as Theo spoke passionately about relationships.
“To be with someone doesn’t always feel poetic. But it’s always worth it,” he said.
“Oh, I might fall asleep here,” Mom whispered.
“Mom. Shhh.”
“If he’s trying to seduce us both with lectures, he failed,” she muttered, but I couldn’t help but chuckle.
The next stop was a boat ride on the lake. Theo had packed a plaid blanket, strawberries, and tea—tea that my mom loved.
“Well, another romantic coma,” she said, but this time, she was smiling.
Theo turned to her gently. “So, Barbara, what are your hobbies?”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Hobbies? Suspicion. Avoiding scams. Crosswords when I can’t sleep.”
“I bet you’re good at them,” he said, smiling.
“I once found three typos in The New York Times and sent them a letter. You didn’t find one,” she said with a proud grin.
“You planted that typo?” Theo asked.
“Of course, sweetie. It was a test for you.”
“Wait, a test? For spelling?” I asked.
“No, more like a test for politeness,” she smirked. “And you passed.”
We were still laughing when she leaned too far over the edge of the boat and fell in.
SPLASH.
“YOU LAUGHING? I COULD DROWN!” she screamed, but Theo immediately jumped in without hesitation, swam over to her, helped her out, and wrapped her in a blanket.
Soaked, shivering, furious—but secretly touched.
Once back on shore, she stormed off, “I need to go home. I’m done.”
Theo didn’t blink. “There’s a sports store nearby. Time for a wardrobe refresh.”
Ten minutes later, Theo returned with two matching athletic outfits—one for me, one for Mom.
“How did you guess my size?” Mom asked suspiciously.
“Easy. You’re built perfectly for a Medium. Athletic and classic.”
She smiled. Barely. But I saw it. She loved the attention.
We changed and headed to the climbing wall.
“Last challenge, I promise,” Theo grinned. “One climbs, the other keeps the rope. It’s a trust exercise.”
“Oh no. I’m 60!” Mom protested.
“Exactly. Perfect age for adventure,” he said.
To my shock, Mom went first. Halfway up, she shouted, “THEO! IF I FALL—I’M HAUNTING YOU!”
She didn’t fall. She made it to the top, and when she came down, her eyes were sparkling.
“Okay, professor. Not bad.”
At the end of the day, Theo invited us over to his house for dinner.
Mom looked at me. “I have no choice. I need to see where this man lives. Maybe I’ll discover his secret lair.”
Theo’s house was stunning. Clean. Warm. It smelled like citrus and cedar. I was in awe.
“Did you buy this on a teacher’s salary or rob a bank?” Mom asked, peeking into the kitchen.
“Started saving in high school,” Theo explained, “plus I teach online courses on the side. Hard work pays off.”
“Well, look at you,” Mom muttered. Then louder, she said, “Does the fridge clean itself, or are you just this weird?”
Theo just laughed.
We sat on the terrace, watching the sun set as Theo grilled steaks nearby.
“You know… he’s not so bad, honey,” Mom said, leaning back in her chair, actually relaxed for once.
“Really? Wow. Mom, you’re on fire today.”
“I was too distrustful. Because your father left. And I didn’t want you to get burned like I did.”
“But Mom, it’s my life. I need to make my own mistakes. Walk my own path.”
Theo joined us, bringing two plates of food.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Always,” Mom replied.
“Even for this? Because I have one more course.”
Theo knelt down on one knee, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Eliza, these past three months have been the best of my life. You’ve brought color back into everything. And your mom… we’re friends now.”
“Almost,” Mom added.
“Not even the rule list could scare me away. I want to share my home, my life… all of it. And yes, even see your mom—but no more than twice a week.” He laughed.
“Will you marry me?”
I blinked. My heart raced.
“Sweetheart,” Mom nudged me. “I would have said yes already.”
“YES. Of course — yes!” I gasped.
Mom changed.
She started Pilates, bought her first floral swimsuit, and we no longer lived in a co-dependent loop. We were separate, but always family.
Finally, our coffee dates felt like chats between old friends.
She told me about her fitness class. I told her how Theo had forgotten to take out the trash and called it a “creative delay.”
I had finally become myself. And, somehow, so had she.
