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“Consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to hear it.” Mom crosses her arms. She has a mean and determined look that frankly frightens me. Dad has a matching expression. Oh shit, I’m about to be roasted. I can practically feel the flames licking at my feet.
“I’m just going to get right to the point.”So just drop the guillotine, then?
“We’ve taken matters into our own hands. We’ve hired a dating expert for you.”
A dating expert? “You did what?” Is that even a thing these days? Aren’t we all supposed to beswiping right? It’s laughable.
“A dating service. A highly reputable agency.” She purses her lips. The laugh dies before it can leave my mouth. Oh God, she’s serious. “I’ve already spoken to the consultant assigned to you. She’s a very nice young lady and very good at what she does. I’ve done my homework, son. They’re discreet and have an excellent track record. I have every confidence they’ll find you a match.” Dad’s nodding, appearing completely on board.
What the hell?
No! Just no.I start to shake my head, and at that signal, Mom rushes on to sing the praises of this little plan she’s hatched.
“Dean, it’s completely personalized, and they’ll interview you so they can find you the perfect match. I promise it won’t be a waste of your time.”
I’m on the fence about whether this is hilarious or my parents are massively stepping over the line. Probably the latter, and honestly, it’d make a great prank. But for someone else, not me. I love them too much to pin them with a glare and stomp off. Sitting opposite my parents while they tell me all about this is almost like having an out-of-body experience. My dad is nodding along at Mom’s effort to sell this plan, and they appear one hundred percent serious and truly believe this will end in a happily-ever-after.
As if.
“It’s all organized and paid for. Given the timeframe of the wedding, we agreed that if the first match is not good, there will be two more tries. So, you have three shots at this.”
“So, three strikes, and I’m out?” I try to temper my sarcasm and lose the battle.
My mom frowns. Dad looks somewhere over my shoulder. “They’d be flexible about more dates if you don’t make a match on the first try, and there’s still time.”
Being a grown man and having your mother barge in and take control of your dating life is bad, bad, bad. I know my mom has good intentions, but it’s humiliating, to say the very least. One day, when I get around to it, I’ll find myself a partner. I just need to apply myself. It’s not like I don’t want that, but it just hasn’t been a priority so far.
“Did it ever occur to you that I might like being single?” Watching Mom’s face fall feels like a stab in my gut.
“Dean, we can tell you’re burying yourself in work, and you know how proud we are of you, but you’re in a rut. Nothing will ever change unless you take some kind of drastic step. So, we’ve taken it for you. Please, I’m begging you to take this chance. If it doesn’t succeed, then no harm done, but I really want you to take a chance on this. It can happen around your work schedule. Please? For me?”
Defeat pours over me like thick slime and I sigh in defeat. Between Mom begging and the fact that I do actually need a date for this wretched wedding, I don’t have a leg to stand on in refusing—especially if she’s already gone to the trouble of setting this thing up. I’m choosing the path of least resistance.
Choosing. I have choices, dammit.
“All right, all right. I’ll give it a shot.”
“Really?” She sounds a little surprised, but when it sinks in that I’ve agreed, she claps her hands and shares a delighted grin with my dad before composing herself. My mom leans over and pats my knee, happy as a lark.
“This will all work out. You just wait and see.”
Hmph.
