Sunday, October 13, 2019

My Mom the Matchmaker :: Personal Narrative Profile

My Mom the Matchmaker I was walking around Fairfield High's Arts and Crafts show last weekend when I saw a mirror with that saying engraved around the edge. I didn't know whether to buy it for my mother or myself. I don't think many 17-year-old girls see a similarity between themselves and their mothers. That seems to come much later in life, if at all. But then again, most 17-year-old girls don't have a mother like mine. . . My mother made a list of colleges she wanted me to consider based on the ratio of men to women: Connecticut College was at the top. . . 600 male cadets right across the street. My mother is a professional matchmaker and my brother and I are her biggest challenges. Other third grade girls had arts and crafts parties, or pizza and video sleepovers. . . I had a boy/girl "silver disco" nighttime affair in my finished basement. Mom removed all the furniture, strung up white lights, pre-recorded all the music, and insisted that all the third grade boys arrive in ties and jackets. Their mothers said they would never come. Well, every one of them showed up, all decked out, to my mother's delight. My party was the social event of third grade. . . we still watch the video today! Mom just loves romance, what else can I say? She made her first match when she was a freshman in college, and they just celebrated their 27th anniversary. She also unknowingly fixed up my dad's gay roommate with her lesbian 2nd cousin . . .they actually dated for months before breaking the news to each other, and then to my mom. She even arranged prom dates for four seniors two days before the prom, and considered starting a venture called "Prom Partners." Not at my high school, I warned her. Back in seventh grade, when everyone was in the midst of their "first romance," Mom would always volunteer to drive the carpools home from school dances or the movies. If she saw a new couple sitting in the third seat in her rearview mirror and she thought, given a little extra time, that magical first kiss might take place, she would just keep driving around the block to give romance a chance. Needless to say, all of my friends loved her. My Mom the Matchmaker :: Personal Narrative Profile My Mom the Matchmaker I was walking around Fairfield High's Arts and Crafts show last weekend when I saw a mirror with that saying engraved around the edge. I didn't know whether to buy it for my mother or myself. I don't think many 17-year-old girls see a similarity between themselves and their mothers. That seems to come much later in life, if at all. But then again, most 17-year-old girls don't have a mother like mine. . . My mother made a list of colleges she wanted me to consider based on the ratio of men to women: Connecticut College was at the top. . . 600 male cadets right across the street. My mother is a professional matchmaker and my brother and I are her biggest challenges. Other third grade girls had arts and crafts parties, or pizza and video sleepovers. . . I had a boy/girl "silver disco" nighttime affair in my finished basement. Mom removed all the furniture, strung up white lights, pre-recorded all the music, and insisted that all the third grade boys arrive in ties and jackets. Their mothers said they would never come. Well, every one of them showed up, all decked out, to my mother's delight. My party was the social event of third grade. . . we still watch the video today! Mom just loves romance, what else can I say? She made her first match when she was a freshman in college, and they just celebrated their 27th anniversary. She also unknowingly fixed up my dad's gay roommate with her lesbian 2nd cousin . . .they actually dated for months before breaking the news to each other, and then to my mom. She even arranged prom dates for four seniors two days before the prom, and considered starting a venture called "Prom Partners." Not at my high school, I warned her. Back in seventh grade, when everyone was in the midst of their "first romance," Mom would always volunteer to drive the carpools home from school dances or the movies. If she saw a new couple sitting in the third seat in her rearview mirror and she thought, given a little extra time, that magical first kiss might take place, she would just keep driving around the block to give romance a chance. Needless to say, all of my friends loved her.

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