Anyone who meets her usually ends up saying the same thing:
"You have a cool mom."
Don't I know it. A few years ago, during a period of financial difficulty, I had to move back in with my mother for a while. She remains, to this day, one of the best roommates I ever had. She wasn't messy, but wasn't uptight about cleanliness, either. She's considerate about privacy and personal space. She's full of great stories and has lead the most fascinating life of anyone I know. She smokes and drinks and anyone who comes over invariably ends up getting tipsy at her hand (like BF David, who met her last week).
Once, during a particularly bizarre online date, I ended up smoking pot with the guy. I called my mom to her know I was on my way home.
"How was your date?" she asked.
"He's not for me, but he did get me stoned!"
"Good for you! How do you feel?"
"Really relaxed... but hungry."
"Would you like me to make something for you for when you get home?"
"Actually, I'm kind of craving Thai."
When I came home, there was $50 worth of Thai take out on the kitchen counter.
Another time, while on a more successful date, I ended up going home with the guy (though we almost did it on one of the fire escapes of the Puck building, which would have made for a much better anecdote, but alas). As a courtesy, I called Mom from the taxi on the way to his apartment.
"How was your date?"
"Good. Really good. I'm actually not going to be coming back tonight."
"Do you have condoms?"
"Do we have condoms?" I asked the guy. He nodded.
"Yes," I told Mom.
"Okay, have fun!"
Mom knows about this blog, but doesn't have internet access at home, and therefore does not read it. Even so, sooner or later she will read it in one form or another, so I have tried to prepare her for some of the racier content. So far, only one story has shocked her to the point of tears. This does not detract from her coolness. She still remains one of the more open-minded people I know. Which is why it wasn't that strange for us to follow up Friday's dinner in the West Village with a trip to Fantasy World, a large sex shop on Seventh Avenue (and much better than the one BF David and I visited the week before).
We walked over there in the pouring rain, discussing sex and sex toys.
"You know I'm going to blog about this, right?" I told my mother.
"You better!" said Mom, who is single and has men my age hitting on her all the time. "Who knows, maybe I'll get a date out of it." She gave me a mischievous smile.
Mom was uncomfortable being in the store too long once she decided on her purchase, so I didn't spend much time on my quest to find a perfect riding crop (next time, next time). Even so, I never imagined I'd get to a point in our relationship where I'd be comfortable picking out condoms with her standing a foot away.
Later, in the taxi, Mom vaguely asked how things were with BF David, bedroom-wise. I do have limits with how much I can share with her about my sex life, so I said things were great, without going into detail (it was enough to mention handcuffs during our dinner conversation).
"Good," she nodded. "Sexual compatibility is really important."
We started talking about how things were with her and Dad, but luckily the taxi got to my place before we could delve into it too much. I guess there are some things my mother is even more open talking about than I am.