You Have the Right to an Attorney

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So this is the delightful tale of how my mother thought she would find me a man.  Yes, it is a horror story, so you should read it in the light of day with other people nearby, lest you send your spine recoiling into itself, whimpering from the atrocities your eyes have beheld.  Now that the warning has been duly dispensed, I commence.

You should first of all know that my mother had the very best intentions at heart – at least, this is the mantra I chant every time I play this little clip in my head – but she just thought that I needed some encouragement.  She has a friend with a young, handsome son who just happens to be a lawyer and in need of a spouse.  According to my best friend, who knows everything about anybody breathing in our rural area, he’s had an on-again-off-again relationship with a woman for 6 years, but my mother wasn’t about to be deterred by minor details.  Or giant, waving, red flags.

So unbeknownst to me, she and her cohort, I mean friend, began plotting on how to bring us together.  My mom eagerly supplied samples of my writing to her friend, who dutifully placed it in the hands of her son.  I guess they thought literacy would be a huge turn-on.  Personally, I would have gone with blackberry turnovers, but I’m of a different mindset.   Now that he was armed with pages of my brilliance, Mom began phase two of the plan, which I have modestly dubbed the Subtle Phase: she stalked him.  The woman actually went to the man’s law office and sat by the back entrance until he returned from lunch.  Recognizing her as his mother’s friend, the poor sap let her in.

Hmm, fresh pastries or dark fiction by an unknown writer . . . I'm going with fried goodness!

Hmm, fresh pastries or dark fiction by an unknown writer . . . I’m going with fried goodness!

Once she had him cornered, it was all over.  Mom broached the “reason” for her visit, some lame excuse about legal advice that we already knew, and then she gracefully segued into how she had an available daughter.  Having a law degree, I’m sure the man was astute enough to see through this ruse, but she was taking no prisoners and wasn’t about to leave until she had achieved her objective: the presentation of the evidence.  From her purse, my mother pulled a few photos of me.  Not snapshots, mind you, of candid shots taken in the yard or around the table at a family gathering, oh no.  She went straight for the big guns and pulled out several 5×7 glossies, some still in their frames.  Can you feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up yet?  This is the part in the movie when the Jaws music normally kicks in.

So after successfully accosting the man at his own practice, she dusted off her hands and returned home, where she rang me up and related the affair in whole.  I can’t remember my exact response, memory gets a bit spotty when you lose consciousness, but let’s just say it was less than enthusiastic.  She ended the conversation by telling me not to be surprised if I received a phone call from this gentleman caller, and at this point, recollections kicks in.

“Really, Mom?  Why on earth would the man call me unless it’s to tell me about the restraining order he’s taken out against the women of this family?”   I haven’t seen the data, but there’s an instinctive part of me that doubts a court injunction is the best foundation for a relationship.  Call me old-fashioned.

Thankfully, this is one of the few times she’s tried match-making.  I did have one scare when she came home talking about a handsome guy she saw working for animal control who turned out to be married.  Mom was initially impressed with his teeth.  It seems that a dog catcher with exemplary dental alignment is now our new standard.  With the bar set so high, I’ll never find anyone . . .

© 2013 – Traci Carver

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27 responses »

  1. Still snickering. I can SOOOO picture her whipping out the framed photos. And, you DO have to give her some credit. It’s not as if there are MANY in that neck of the woods with good teeth. ROFL!!!!!!! *snort*

  2. Traci, this is so hilarious and awful! I can’t decide which is my favorite part, your opening lines full of foreboding, the whole “waving red flags” comment about the lawyer’s girlfriend, or your response to one of the comments regarding the locksmith. I’m sorry you had to endure all this, but it sure makes for a funny post 🙂
    -Dana

    • Thanks, Dana. When those stories unfold, they aren’t so funny, but they make great fodder for later – once you’ve got about half a dozen therapy sessions under your belt … 🙂

  3. So has he called? Sorry – couldn’t resist! Thank you for sharing your humiliation with the world, with a delicious (& hilarious) flair for the macabre. Just what I needed today (even if it was not what you needed…ever)! 🙂

      • I was thinking more in terms of you’re Mom’s perception that you “have a right to an attorney,” especially if he’s single 😉

      • Yeah, it was supposed to go both ways. She does want the best for me . . . and is determined to stalk him, I mean, pursue him, even if I won’t. 🙂

      • So… is your Mom single? If so, it might work out for her 😉 If not, you might want to consider dating someone who could represent you in a countersuit 😉

  4. Traci
    I know where you are coming from. Every place we would go to visit, mom would tell every one that the only way I would find a girl , is behind a tree in the woods. I think it’s a big club we have.

  5. O.K., let me wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes first. This is one of the funniest posts I have read in a long, long time! My mom was also a Yenta, who felt that any..and I mean any man should be considered a marriage prospect. I feel your pain! Thanks for the laughs!

  6. “So this is the delightful tale of how my mother thought she would find me a man. Yes, it is a horror story, so you should read it in the light of day with other people nearby, lest you send your spine recoiling into itself, whimpering from the atrocities your eyes have beheld. ” <- this is a hilariously awesome opening to a blog post.

    This entire post is awesome, actually. Of course, I read this mid-morning, and the Sun was blazing. I never said I was brave, after all.

  7. You poor soul. That is so funny and horrible. Really horrible, but so funny. I’m sorry. She loves you and that’s all that matters. And you’re right. Those blackberry turnovers would win someone over in their own right. A crazy mama would certainly make them run for the hills!

    • Yeah, except for this incident which caused pupil dilation for days, she’s amazing and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. Besides, look at the writing material it created . . . suffering for the cause. 🙂

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