He seems like a nice boy, honey....

I never remember my mother having particularly refined taste.  Often we butted heads over our idea of what constituted a catch.  A nice guy to date....

I liked boys but wouldn't say I was 'boy crazy'.  In fact, my mom didn't understand why I was most often just one of the guys.  Why?  Because I hated most girls.  Too much drama, cattiness, competition.  I wasn't like that.  If you were a friend of mine and were female?  Cut the crap or I'm dropping you like a hat.

Maybe my lack of dates concerned her because she always tried to push guys on me. To this day my skin crawls when I think of this certain look in her eye that immediately told me she thought a guy in the room was date material...usually the most revolting individual in the joint.

Take for example, Josh.  He was the oldest of three boys from a family we'd get together with for picnics, Saturday dinner...His hair always seemed to have an oily sheen to it and appeared to be very wirey in texture.  Scads of pimples with white heads covered his face.  Some nearly volcanic in size.  I was often surprised the bridge of his nose could support the weight of his oversized coke bottle glasses.

Beyond his physical appearance though he was just a creep.  Right after we'd walk into his parents' house he'd give me a full body scan with his eyes.  I'd stand there, uncomfortable, skeeved out as he'd say with a pastey grin displaying ragged teeth, "Hey, wanna listen to some Pink Floyd?" My mother would smile approvingly and say, "Why that sounds like fun Josh!"...I'd turn and shoot her a look of disbelief. Most surprising was my mother seemingly had no problem with me going up to his room.  Boys in my room were completely forbidden.  Awesome.

Then there was David.  He was part of the familial Saturday dinner crowd too.  He had skin the color of Elmer's glue.  I remember thinking he could be an understudy for Mr. Goodbody.  Remember him?  The guy whose body parts were all exposed?  Did you think that show was as fucked up as I did?  Anyway,  David's skin was so translucent that I could make out nearly every vein as it coursed through his body not unlike a map of the U.S. highway system.  I was convinced if his shirt was off I could make out the outline of his kidneys and liver...No, I didn't try too hard to envision him shirtless...

My only nice thing to say about David is that he was as uninterested in me as I was in him.  Still, my mother seemed to think she could will us together by subtleties like, "David, Trina likes Atari too!" as though we were the only two teens who enjoyed video games.  "How about you two play Asteroids while we get dinner together?"...We'd then sit in his family room shooting meteors, crashing spaceships, getting thumb cramps from hitting the orange button on the joystick....speechless...zero chemistry.  Zip.  Nice call mom.

In the car ride home after these little escapades, mom would want a run down of what I thought of the latest reject.  As visions of a Lutheran wedding and a reception at the local VFW danced in her head, I took great pleasure in letting her know how repulsed I was.  "Mom, a blind person could read braille on his face.  He's gross.  Stop."  "Trina stop making fun of blind people."  "No one's making fun of blind people mom.  Just him...His face could butter a skillet, didn't you notice?"

And so for the remainder of the ride home, quiet would ensue.  Mom, annoyed with me.  Me disgusted by her antics...

Anyone else's mom or dad like that?  Please tell me yes...See ya'