A Series of Unfortunate Dates

Turning 30 and not being married was the equivalent of dropping a nuclear bomb to my Filipino mother. God forbid that you mention grandchildren. Five years before I hit puberty I was read the riot act daily about the disasters of teen pregnancy and how I would be excommunicated from the family and a stain on the souls of all of my ancestors.

So I kept my legs closed and graduated from college and the very next day, I kid you not, the very next day, I got the "why aren't you dating someone/soon to be married/pregnant talk". In order to appease her, no idea why I still felt the need to do so, I go on a series of blind dates. The first guy, Steven, was quite a charmer until I got hit with this pungent hot dog breath. You have to wonder what a person eats to permeate that kind of smell.

Next was Guy who was gay. This would be wonderful if I was looking for a gay boyfriend but I was making a half-hearted attempt at keeping my mother happy and hoping it would also result in finding true love. Then there was Brian, who I was attracted to and kind of liked, but I got word back from my mom he thought I was too masculine. I guess wearing pants and having an opinion was too much for his feeble mind. Can you tell me how bad it is getting feedback from your mom about your date? After that she started asking me all kinds of crazy questions, like am I still shaving my legs and what are the three main ingredients to make a pie.

But, the guy who takes the cake was Stan. Super attractive, almost to the point that you just don't hear a word coming out his mouth because you're so busy staring at his cheekbones. To tell you the truth, I was already imaging having children with him. In between my fantasy of him mopping my brow as I gave birth to our first child in an unmedicated home birth, he went crazy on me and asked if I'd ever consider gaining 100 pounds.

Now, I have the BBC Channel and now and then they have some crazy documentary on about coke heads, women obsessed with baby dolls or gainers, so I knew this guy's fetish would have me beached out on a futon in his living room. Eating enough calories to give me the sexy triple chin he was after until I ceased to exist as a person and became one huge fantasy. For two seconds, I considered it. I imagined giving in to every gluttonous whim but then I caved and gave him my Cousin Agnes's number. They've been married for 4 year now and have the thinnest children you've ever seen.

Anyhow, Stan put the bullet in my acquiescence to my mother's plan so I'm still looking, still searching, still dreaming.