Results tagged “max”

First, my mother deposited her two cents. "You really shouldn't sleep with him on the first date, you know."

Keep in mind, this wasn't actually in response to anything that I had said or done; I hadn't even indicated that this was possibly on the agenda. Then, my mother proceeded to summarize the plot of "A Round Heeled Woman" (a book written by a woman in her late 60's who sleeps around) while applying the life lessons of this senior with loose morals to my life.

Without a break in the conversation, she went on to tell me about an article she read in Marie Claire about "dogging." "They just pull up in rest stops, Lina, and take on anyone that comes by! And their husbands like to watch!"

Exhausted, I left the room after vocally declaring eternal celibacy and continued my pre-date preparations.

I was scheduled to meet my date at 8 pm downtown. At 8:03 I was still on the way there when I received a text message on my phone from my ever-protective younger brother.

Has he raped you yet? it read. As a way to break the first date ice, I greeted my date with a hug and then showed him the text message. Luckily, I was asked out for a second date.

My next date was a mere 48 hours later, due to both the limited time I had in New York and my inability to escape my family in any other way. I walked downstairs, prepared to leave when I was confronted by my grandmother's sister. "You would look nice, except for the fact that I can see your brassiere."

"Oh Mary Louise, I'm just wearing a tank top under my shirt," I explained. "All you can see is the tank top."

"Still," she said, resolutely shaking her head, "I can see your undergarments." My tales of wearing a camisole, and attempting what the kids call 'layering' clearly hadn't swayed her.

"Well," my grandmother said, emerging from the kitchen wearing her 'I prefer the company of dogs' shirt, "I think you look nice even if I can see your bra." She paused for a second to let me digest this. "And don't you go sleeping with this fellow on the second date!"

Since I had by now realized that protestations of my virtue appeared to have no effect, I decided to try a different tack. "But Cosmo says it's okay on the third date," I whined, appealingly.

My grandmother harrumphed loudly and didn't grace me with a response.

The next day, when I logged onto my computer to check my email, I immediately got an instant message from my brother.

Max: are you wearing the same clothes you were yesterday?
Lina: uh...no
Max: you weren't home when i came in at 5:30
Lina: that's odd
Lina: must have been a trick of the light

After my mother suggested to me once again that girls shouldn't have sex with boys too soon, I confronted her. I questioned whether it was appropriate to be giving such lectures to me at the wizened age of twenty-six, when it would have been much more valuable to me as a young and impressionable teenager. The only response I received was a shrug, and the claim that it had taken her all these years to read enough women's magazines to have such advice to give.

On the night of my third date, my grandmother patted my shoulder and told me that I looked pretty. Upon hearing that my date would be taking me to yet another nice restaurant for dinner, she began to worry. "I just don't want you to feel obligated. He seems very nice, and certainly better than that last one," she turned and whispered an aside to her sister "He was a dud." She turned back to me. "Just because he takes you out to dinner doesn't mean you should sleep with him on the third date."

"But Grammy!" I protested, "Why can't I give him the milk for free?" My great-aunt shook her head disapprovingly as I tottered out the door in one of my many pairs of painful pink heels.

The next day, sitting around the dinner table, my aunt looked at me and said, "Where have you been? You look so freckled, so sun-kissed!" She looked at me knowingly, and then around the table to make sure that each and every family member was listening and said, "It must be this new boy who has put roses in your cheeks!"