Dating ‘Mother’

I know how you feel, little guy

Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those Oedipus Complexes that would make Sigmund Freud turn in his grave, twiddling his moustache quizically. It is the tale of another dating woe, from when I had recently moved to London.

There I was, a single man salivating at the thought of what seemed like an endless line of available women, all just a Tube ride away. The world, it seemed, was my oyster. I just had to search amongst the sea of opportunity and grab a shining pearl, whilst obviously avoiding the perils of any non-jewellery producing molluscs, if you catch my drift. But enough of the analogies…

Not knowing where to start, I signed up to Match.com and started the whole ‘getting to know you’ process with London’s finest. With little success. What was wrong with these career girls? Maybe they didn’t actually believe that I was a millionaire playboy with a very big house in the country, his own horse and an interest in polo. It wasn’t too big a lie, I thought. Well, I did sometimes eat mint flavoured polos.

But then finally… a message. And she seemed really nice. She took pity on my ridiculous efforts at flirting and agreed to meet me for a date. In a crowded public setting, just to be safe. Fair enough, I would do the same if meeting me. When the night came I arrived on time and a few minutes later she appeared. And wow, was she hot! I couldn’t believe my luck. I was on a date with a Spanish ex-model! Why was she on a dating site?

We hit it off straight away and had a fantastic night, aided by alcohol and dimly lit bars – my natural habitat and where I look at my most attractive. I even had a deep and meaningful conversation with my taxi driver on the way home, and he let me off some of the fare. The night couldn’t have gone better. She even invited me out to meet her friends the next evening. Well, we got on famously, so why wait?

Over the coming days and then weeks, things seemed to be moving fast. My friends patted me on the back for my almighty score and her constant text messages, calls and emails to my office were a new experience for me. It was great that such an attractive and pleasant girl was so keen on me. She was happy that she had met a ‘normal’ guy. She usually only had socially inadequate obsessive types or arrogant ‘players’ approach her.

But then she complained that my return emails were too short. Well, I was at work. Working. People do that. And then she invited herself on my trip to Australia with my best friend, after only 4 weeks together. Oh no you don’t, three’s a crowd. That wouldn’t be fair on my friend. We can go away another time – what’s the rush?

After some sulking, and my friend taking all of the blame naturally (“Of course I want you to come with us, but Reg is against it… sorry!), she resigned herself to missing the trip. But then the messages increased. I felt smothered. Things came to a head one time when she bear hugged me, whilst kissing me repeatedly on the head. Like people do to young children that are just so precious. And then I shuddered as it hit me like a speeding train. My own mother used to do that! I couldn’t look at her without feeling as though I had regressed back to being 5 years old. I recoiled every time that she came near me with her puppy dog eyes.

Needless to say, the relationship was doomed from that point. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the affection. But dating a woman who is the likeness of my own mother was just too freaky. And her behaviour became increasingly obsessive. What was wrong with her? It seemed that she had been badly treated in previous relationships which led to her slightly unhinged behaviour. The more distant I became, the more she over-compensated by smothering me with affection. It was just too much to bear. Damn oysters promising pearls.

Advertisements

15 thoughts on “Dating ‘Mother’

  1. I love reading stories about your dating life, it makes me feel so much better about my dates! 🙂

    • Yeah, that seems apparent with everyone – dating stories are always popular posts. I’m glad that you all find pleasure in my dating disasters!

  2. I don’t think I could ever ask you out, Stewart. I’d be entirely too afraid that you’d blog about me! 😉

    • You’d have to buy me flowers first 😉 Anyway, I only blog about the bad dates, which are only a minority!

  3. I have met and dated may women, and only one had decided to leave her baggage behind. I married her, and 15 years later, we’re still together.

  4. In my experience, men have a habit of carrying their baggage with them. If I had a dollar for every time I heard endless tales about exes, I’d be rich. Hmmmmmmmmm – that is probably an exaggeration as it makes it sound like I dated a lot. But then again, I did, because most got kicked to the curb after anywhere between 1 and 3 dates. Anyway, you get my drift. It ain’t just the ladies, guys!

    • No, it’s not just the ladies with ‘baggage’. My main observation was that it surprised me that such an attractive young lady would have such emotional ‘baggage’ that would cause her to over compensate with too much affection. I think we all maybe look at good looking people as if they have everything going for them and must have a perfect life with no problems. But it’s not always the case.

  5. Clingy people are the worst with relationships 😐 I’m surprised you didn’t end it sooner to be honest you’re better off without for sure 🙂

  6. She’d clearly never heard the saying ‘treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen’.

    Rookie error on her part.

  7. There’s just no in between, too keen or too mean!

    I read somewhere that the more attractive the person is, the more insecure they are!

    Sounds like you got out whilst you could Mr, she would of had you in a papoose….

    • I was recently talking to a psychology lecturer who is about to conduct research on the rather weird adult baby fetish. The thought of me in a papoose is just too strange…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s