Mother%27s Bad Date _verified_ Direct

I laughed, assuming this was the extent of the damage. I was wrong. The next text came at 7:51 PM: "He ordered for me."

My mother was nervous. She tried on four different blouses. She asked me if her lipstick was too "murder-y." I told her it was perfect. She took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, and walked out the door with the look of a woman who was cautiously optimistic. mother%27s bad date

That optimism lasted roughly twelve minutes. My phone buzzed at 7:42 PM. "He’s short." I laughed, assuming this was the extent of the damage

My mother sipped her wine. "I'm not sure that's a statistic, David." She tried on four different blouses

But she stayed. Because my mother is a polite Midwesterner, and polite Midwesterners would rather eat dirt scallops than cause a scene. This is where the date went from "awkward" to "witness protection worthy."

I texted back: "Mom, height doesn't matter."