Build-a-Boyfriend Workshop

“Wasn’t the budget for the grocery shopping capped at seventy-five dollars?” I passively jabbed. “And yet the receipt is showing me triple-digits…”

From the driver side seat, my mother giggled sheepishly.
“But there was a huge sale on chicken thighs. And I bought all the stuff we needed for the cook out…” she said.

“Correct my math here but I don’t think that equates to going over the budget by a hundred dollars.” I said, waving the piece of paper I had given her earlier like a threat. “Help me understand, mother… where on this shopping list does is say to buy five bottles of shampoo and one conditioner?”
“I had a coupon…” she said.
“And a dozen boxes of protein bars.”
“I’m going to get ten-percent back on that app I got!” she pouted. ”I’m earning money!”
“If you didn’t buy it, it wouldn’t cost us.” I grouched.
“Oh, I hope the weather is going to be better for the cook out this weekend…” mother said cheerfully, looking out through the rain droplets on the windshield.
“Don’t change the subject.” I argued.

But, my mother was too happy to be bothered, humming along to the song on the radio. It sufficiently killed the flow of the conversation and left me to simmer in my own irritable mood. It wasn’t until the end of the love song on the radio that my mother started talking.

“How are your friends doing? Are they doing well?” she asked. “They visited you last week, right?”
“Judge and CEO? Yea, they’re peachy.” I told her.
“Are they dating people?” she continued to ask. “Girls your age normally go on dates on Fridays.”

I didn’t miss the jab she was sending my way.

“I don’t know, they’re very busy being productive citizens in a global society.” I said flatly. “Or maybe they are two strong women that don’t need a man on their arm.”
“Ooh, really?” she returned, her tone falsely innocent. “You’ve been using that excuse for so long I had figured it was a loser’s excuse.”

She’s really swinging below the belt today, wasn’t she?

“Are you picking a fight with me, mother?” I shot back, slowly turning her way with a tight smile. “I was just thinking about how to tell your husband how his wife broke the budget like she was going for a new world record.”
My dear mother did not back down.
“I truly don’t understand… how cruel can this world be?” she sighed out dramatically. “Genetics can be so unfair…”

Oh, here we go.

“Being my daughter, you should have men lining up to knock on our door for a chance to date you. I was expecting to have to turn away a crowd by now.”
“Not again…” I muttered to myself.
“It’s all because you got your father’s genes. If you had been born taking after me, you would’ve been set for life.”
“Just a reminder, dad says the same about you.” I pointed out, only to have it fall on deaf ears.
“You are a doctor’s daughter! A doctor’s firstborn daughter! In Japan that’s something respectable and something you should have pride in.” she was ranting.
“Good for dad, but it’s not my degree.” I said flatly.
“When I was your age, I had at least a handful of boyfriends; Ah-shii for rides, Meh-shii for food. And then there was that boy who came from a rich family…”
“That’s messed up, mom.”
“If you at least had one boy to take you places. A boyfriend or two can make you happy…”
“I don’t want or need a boy to make me anything,” I cut her off. "Never mind a handful of them."

My mother hummed discontentedly, and allowed the radio to fill in the silence. That only lasted unto the next traffic light.

“So… I heard a very interesting statistic the other day,” my mother started.

She was setting this conversation up to go somewhere, that much was clear. But it seemed innocent enough, so I let out a low hum.
“Hmm… that’s cool.” I started. “Where did you find this statistic?”
“The internet.”
“Oh… okay.”

The conversation slowed to an awkward stop then, and the peppy voice of the radio host mingled in the air with the low rumble of the car engine. I waited for her to go on, to tell me more about this very interesting statistic. But the woman was suddenly uncharacteristically silent.
I glanced up from my phone and over to my mother, who was suddenly very focused on her driving. Do I sense a red flag? What was this uneasy feeling I was suddenly feeling in my gut?
Few more moments passed, and still silent.
“Mom?”

“Huh?”

“You were saying something about a statistic?” I pointed out.
“Oh yea, right.” she said. “So this statistic said one in every three people are gay.”

Silence followed, and I waited for her to elaborate, or at least get to the very interesting part.
I should’ve known something was up when she reached over and cut the radio off.
Bless her, I know she means well… but mother, no.

“You and your sisters would make three people…” she went on, continuing to beat around the bush.
I cringed so hard I think I felt my face crack.
“Mom, I’m not a lesbian.” I said firmly.
“But, are you…”
“Mother, I am sure.” I urged, my tone begging for her to stop.
“Now, you know there’s nothing wrong with being gay,” mother dearest returned sternly.
“I know that.”
“And if you were gay, there’s no reason to be afraid; your father and I don’t care.” She continued to argue. “We don’t mind gay people.”
“Mother, I figured you guys didn’t mind when you enrolled me into what turned into a lifelong figure skating career.” I grouched. “The light’s green.”
“But none of your guy friends are straight. And you don’t talk about any guys at all.” she pointed out, as if it was evidence to her argument.
“That doesn’t mean that I am into girls.” I said. “You know I would tell you guys if I were gay.”
“I know…” My mother pouted. The hum of the car engine accelerating filled the short window of silence before she continued. “I just wish you would bring home a straight guy, you know?”
“Then you should’ve thought about that when you signed me up for figure skating.”

Mom sighed, grumbling a complaint under her breath.
“I just don’t want you to end up alone.” she mumbled.
“I know, mom.” I sighed. “But being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.”

She could’ve stopped there, but oh no.

“Just thinking about you being all alone all the way to your deathbed is too sad… you know your father and I won’t be around forever, right?”

Well, that got dark fast. Please let her be done…

“I don’t want you to grow old with regret, and die lonely. People aren’t meant to be alone.” she said.

To that, I didn’t respond. I just turned my eyes to outside to the passing scenery.
What I didn’t tell her was that there are far worse things in life that can happen than to end up alone.