By popular demand (i.e majority vote on Twitter), this post is about Mammy Gloria and her admirers.
Bit of background; my Mum and Dad divorced some years ago and we all rejoiced at the dissolving of their union. I'm not joking, my sister and I presented my Mum with a 'Congratulations!' card when the final papers came through.
Despite the ending, my Mum and Dad's relationship origins was the stuff of legend. She was the straight-laced good girl, the youngest in a large Catholic family. He was the local rebel without a clue, who chain-smoked Major's and charmed the girls with his charisma and piercing blue eyes. My Dad was the first guy my Mum ever kissed. She never dated anyone before him and even though she's been happily divorced for some years, she hasn't dated anyone since.
I've no problem with telling you my Mum is foxy. Neither have any of my friends. She will never accept it, but she has the most beautiful eyes and smile.
She's had numerous dating opportunities since she became single, but she has refused any offers to mingle. I persist in my attempts to re-introduce her to the world of dating but so far, I've been unsuccessful. Even though the woman is happy with her life and has no interest in men, the same can't be said of the men towards her.
In the past year, she has been randomly chatted up by a number of complete strangers. It's very amusing me when these things happens as she's half-mortified half-shocked by such interest. Attempts to take her out have come in many forms; from male friends, old acquaintances on Facebook, to the guy who saw her gardening outside our house one day and despite being married, genuinely begged to take her on a date.
She seems to have a particular appeal to the married set. The most recent demonstration of this occurred yesterday. I was in the ReachOut offices working away on my super-exciting project, details of which will be revealed in good time. I called her to let her know I had done a bit of food shopping and was going to cook dinner for her later on. My sister is currently staying over in the boyfriend's and it's not lost on me that my Mum and I turn into an old married couple in her absence.
"I picked up chicken and salad so you don't have to go to the shops today" I said.
"Ah I ended up going around to Aldi and got chicken for you!" she informed me. I do love my chicken.
After a brief discussion of my happiness that our freezers will be filled with poultry, she casually drops in:
"Oh, I got chatted up today!"
"Em, what?!" was my reply. "Details!"
It turns out that when she was in the queue, this guy she didn't know started coming onto her 90. Using his full charm, within the space of three questions he has asked if she was married and could he have her number. It didn't stop there, when she was making the short walk back home, a taxi driver slowed down to tell her he thought she was a lash.
I convulsed with laughter at my desk, imagining her face when this had happened. She was telling me about all this not out of a desire to brag, but because the delicate little flower she is was shocked. It was bloody hilarious. I keep telling her that any guy would be lucky to have her, but such sentiment doesn't register with her.
When I got home later that evening, I couldn't help but tease her about it. And then validly pointed out that her love life is superior to mine.
"Would you stop!" she replied with self-deprecation.
"It's true! I don't get random guys stopping me on the street because they think I'm a babe and asking me out on a date!" I said.
"You've got multiple beau's!" was her reply.
"I do not!" I retorted truthfully. "The only beau I have is the cat" I replied, referring to my ginger darling who is actually called Beau.
Naturally, her being her, she didn't give the guy her number and remains horrified at the thoughts of going on a date. The woman isn't even trying and she has men flocking to her. I, on the other hand, her modern daughter, has a love life that can only be described as disastrous.
I think I need to try bottle whatever she has. Or at least, get her to go on a date.