At 37, I thought I’d finally reached a point in my life where I could date in peace. I had my own apartment, a job I loved at the museum, and a life I controlled. But of course, my mom had other plans.
I always knew I had a mom. But sometimes, it felt like my mom was my life. Even at 37, she had a way of slipping into my day-to-day business. No matter what I was doing, she was always there—asking questions, giving advice, and making sure I was “safe.”
Every single day, without fail, I’d get a text or a call:
“Are you wearing warm socks?” or “Did he look at you with respect and not… interest?”
I worked in a museum, adored art history, lived independently, had two degrees, and managed my own finances. Yet whenever I saw “Mom calling” on my phone, I still straightened up like I was ten years old.
She controlled everything. When I should go to bed. What color I should paint my nails. Even the food I ate. There was this one time when I ordered salmon delivery—just a simple dinner—and twenty minutes later, I saw my mom’s number pop up.
“I saw him go into your house. Was that him?” she asked.
“Mom, are you spying on me?” I said, laughing nervously.
“I was just sitting in the car nearby,” she said, “in case of suspicious movement.”
She wasn’t kidding. She had binoculars. And a notebook. She called it “just in case.”
When I was a kid, I thought it was cute. By 20, it was annoying. By 30, I started to wonder if this was “normal.”
Then, at 37, I met Theo.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t tell my mom right away. It was my first grown-up secret. I was nervous about it. I wanted to see where it would go without her hovering over every little detail.
It lasted exactly three days.
Theo and I had plans for dinner at my place. I’d baked a pie I found online (not from Mom’s sacred recipe book). Sure, it came out a little burnt, and the chicken was dry, but that was on me. My life, my mistakes.
I could already picture my mom’s reaction if she saw it. The outrage. The judgment. The questioning of my ability to even cook.
Still, I was excited. I set the table, lit some candles, and smiled to myself. Mom had recently 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’d replied, trying to assert some independence.
She backed off for the time being. It was odd but… nice.
Then came the night of the dinner.
Theo came over with tulips, non-alcoholic wine (knowing I was tired after work), and a cake from the bakery I loved. He was thoughtful, charming, and everything felt right.
We talked for hours, laughing, dreaming.
“Imagine… a little house by an old lighthouse,” he said.
“And in the basement — an archive of old love letters,” I replied, playing along.
“You’d preserve them, and I’d write new ones,” he added with a smile.
Candles flickered, music hummed softly in the background. Theo took my hand, his touch gentle.
“I thought after all the heartbreaks, nothing would ever happen again. And then you came along…” he said, his voice soft.
And at that moment…
“ACHOO!”
From the closet.
We froze.
“You’re not alone?” Theo looked at me, startled.
I stood up, walking slowly toward the closet.
“Mooom?!”
There she was. Sitting in the dark, wearing a headlamp, and clutching a thermos.
“What… what are you doing?” I asked, utterly shocked.
“Oh, hi! I was just checking if you’re storing things in your closet without lavender,” she mumbled, trying and failing to sound casual.
“Mom, are you spying on me?” I demanded, my voice rising.
“I was just making sure. Listening. Evaluating. I didn’t interfere!” she said, as if that made any sense.
Theo, still calm, smiled politely. “Good evening. I’m Theo. Very nice to meet you.”
“Theo. Short. Like most male patients,” Mom said, sitting down on the couch like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Sit. Let’s get to know each other.”
I wanted to crawl under the couch and disappear. But somehow, Theo sat down. He didn’t run. He stayed.
And then 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.”
She didn’t let up.
“How many women before my daughter?”
“Excuse me?” Theo was clearly taken aback.
“Are you deaf?” Mom pressed.
“No, I just think that’s a bit…”
“You should always think before approaching a woman with serious intentions.”
Theo shot me a look, like, “Is this for real?”
I silently begged him with my eyes to stay calm. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. My mom was being my mom.
Then, she stood up. “Now, a test.”
“What?” we both asked, bewildered.
“Wipe the table. With a sponge. No streaks. If there’s even one mark — you’re not for her.”
“Mom! Enough!” I said, my patience running thin.
But surprisingly, Theo stood up, walked into the kitchen, grabbed a sponge, and wiped the table. Perfectly. Not a streak in sight. Mom ran her finger across the surface, inspecting it.
“Hmmm. Survived. For now.”
Then, she handed Theo a piece of paper.
Theo took one look at it, skimmed it, then frowned and handed it to me.
I looked down at the paper she’d written in thick black marker.
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 min early.
- SHE is my PRINCESS. Not your conquest.
- I don’t mind going to jail.
The last word, “Daugter,” was spelled wrong. Typical Mom.
“Mom, you need to go,” I said, exhausted.
“Oh, sweetie, if he leaves at the first sign of trouble, is he even a man?” she asked, not even realizing how out of line she was.
“He didn’t leave. He said he’d call.”
“Same thing,” Mom muttered. “Maybe he just didn’t enjoy being around you?”
I was fuming. “You crossed the line, Mom! Please, leave. I want to be alone.”
The rest of the evening was a blur. The whole night had been ruined. And to make matters worse, I had no idea if Theo would even text or call after this disaster.
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, just as I was starting to give up, I heard a knock at the door. My heart skipped a beat. I opened it, and there he was. Theo. With flowers in hand.
“Come on,” he smiled. “I’ve planned a date… for you and your Mom.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Just trust me.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But I followed him.
We picked up my mom, who immediately started her usual commentary. “Where are we going? I need to defrost the freezer!”
“Surprise,” Theo smiled.
First stop: his lecture.
Mom and I sat at the back while Theo spoke to a class of students about love in literature.
“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’s failing,” she murmured.
I shot her a look but held my ground. This wasn’t all Theo had planned.
Next stop — a boat ride on the lake, complete with a plaid blanket, strawberries, and tea (yes, the exact tea my mom liked).
“Yet another romantic coma,” Mom muttered, but this time, she chuckled.
Then, Theo turned to her, softly asking, “So, Barbara. What are your hobbies?”
“Hobbies?” she raised an eyebrow. “Suspicion. Avoiding scams. Crosswords when I can’t sleep.”
“I bet you’re good at them,” Theo said with a grin.
“I once found three typos in The New York Times. Sent them a letter. And you didn’t find one.”
“You planted that typo?” I asked, laughing.
“Of course, sweetie. It was a test for your Theo.”
“I thought you were testing his spelling, not his politeness,” I said.
“Well, he passed,” Mom said with a smirk.
Then, without warning, she slipped and fell into the water.
“YOU LAUGHING? I COULD DROWN!”
Theo jumped in immediately, pulling her out and wrapping her in a blanket.
She was soaked, furious, and shivering, but there was something in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before. A soft, vulnerable look. She didn’t stomp away like I expected.
“I need to go home. I’m done,” she said.
Theo calmly replied, “There’s a sports store nearby. Time for a wardrobe refresh.”
Within minutes, he was back with two athletic outfits—one for me, one for Mom.
“How did you guess my size?” she asked suspiciously.
“You’re built perfectly for a Medium. Athletic and classic,” Theo said.
She barely smiled, but I could tell she liked it. She loved the attention.
We changed and then… a climbing wall.
“Last challenge, I promise,” Theo said with a grin. “Climbing wall. One climbs, the other keeps the rope. Trust exercise.”
“Oh no. I’m 60!” Mom protested.
“Exactly. Perfect age for adventure,” Theo teased.
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. When she came down, her eyes were gleaming.
“Okay, professor. Not bad.”
Finally, the day ended at Theo’s house. It was beautiful. Clean. Warm. The citrus and cedar scent was a relief after all the chaos.
“Did you buy this on a teacher’s salary or rob a bank?” Mom asked.
“I started saving in high school,” Theo explained. “I also teach online courses on the side. Hard work pays off.”
“Look at you,” she muttered.
We sat on the terrace as Theo grilled steaks, the sun dipping low.
“You know…” Mom said, her voice softer. “He’s not so bad, honey.”
“Really?” I laughed, in shock.
“I was too distrustful because your father left. And I didn’t want you to get burned like I did.”
“Mom, it’s my life. I need to make my own mistakes. Walk my own path.”
Theo joined us, two plates in hand.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Always,” Mom said with a grin.
Theo knelt down on one knee.
“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, smirking.
“Not even the rule list could scare me away,” Theo continued. “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, and I gasped.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
I blinked, my heart racing.
“Sweetheart,” Mom nudged me. “I’d have said yes already.”
“Yes! Of course—yes!”
And just like that, my life took a new turn. A twist I never saw coming.
Mom changed. She started Pilates. She 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 about how Theo forgot to take out the trash and called it a “creative delay.”
I finally became myself. And I think — she also did.
