The following texts were sent by my mother on Friday afternoon:
mama: hey do you wanna go on a blind date?
mama: his name is juan gonzales (this is not his real name)
mama: he works for the FBI
mama: i'm serious he showed me his ID
mama: he's good looking
mama: he has muscles
mama: he's a nice guy ok
mama: i thought he was salim's relative but he's not arabic, he's latino
me: would you freaking stop hyper texting and consolodate some of these texts i can't keep up
mama: hold on he's going to send you his picture
me: mama, seriously? are you kidding me?
mama: what? he's even christian
me: oh my god. where are you?
mama: dicker and deal
me: ok this conversation is over
Dicker & Deal
In order to really understand what's going on in the above conversation, besides the fact that my mom met some random man who works for the FBI and tried to set me up with him, you need to understand something about Dicker & Deal. Imagine a 50+ year old woman who doesn't drink but loves to barter and resell things. AKA - my mother. So instead of going to the local pub and having everyone there know her by name, she goes to the local 2nd hand furniture store, where Freddie, Salim and only God knows who else greet her by name and give her blankets when she's sick. I kid you not, about 5 times out of 10 when I call and ask where she is, she's at Dicker & Deal. I imagine her bored in her townhouse, looking around for something she could convince them to give her 20 bucks for, just as an excuse to visit her boyfriends at D&D. The men there know every intimate detail of my life by now I'm sure and their dying wish is to either date me or my sister. When I told my sister that mama was trying to set me up with some guy she met at Dicker & Deal she frightfully says, "OH MY GOD you are not going to date anyone from Dicker & Deal!! I will disown you. Does he have all of his teeth?"
Founders & Being Hit on by 50+ Year Old Men
I've been trying not to care that the only men that seem to find me remotely attractive these days are the same age as my mother. I went to Founders last weekend because the bands that were playing peeked my interest. The place was of course, packed and after standing there for about 45 minutes I turned to Anya and asked if it was ok we leave... "my ankle hurts," I said pathetically. I never heard the band play but when I approached the bar to pay our tab I overheard a few grey haired men, who probably had grand children, make comments about my appearance. After I dismissed one of their attempts to make conversation, I hear one ask if the other had caught my name. And then of course the, "curly hair is so cute," comment followed. I b-lined it for the door and grabbed Anya on my way out.
next time this happens... they will all be getting my mother's phone number...
end of story