"Spencer honey, what are you doing tomorrow night?"
Meet Paula Carlin, also known as my very interfering mom. She means well most of the time, but doesn't really know when to stop prying, talking, or even just being present really. I'm not sure how to really put our relationship into words, but easygoing isn't one of them. You'll literally see us throwing stuff at each others head one minute, and see us comforting each other in a cryfest after watching The Notebook for the 28th time the next one. To say that our bond was complicated would be an understatement. But it was the good kind of complicated.
Most of the time anyway.
"Something that has absolutely no relation to you whatsoever."
"Spencer, be nice."
Meet Arthur Carlin, also known as the best dad in the world. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating. If there was an award, he'd win every single year hands down only to donate the accompanying check to some charity fund because he was that kind of guy. You know something's wrong (or right?) when the friends you invite over to your place keep asking for your dad so they can hang out. Not really the best confidence-booster I might add. Having a Superdad has its pro's and con's. But the pro's definitely outweigh the con's largely.
"And while your at it: roll over and play dead too."
Meet Glen Carlin, also known as asshole, ass-hat and ass-douche. Sometimes known as my brother. Most of the times when he's unconscious or unable to talk. He's just the kind of big brother who doesn't know when to stop butting in or just being his jock-self. He's a moron that'll harass you with his stupid, crude and brainless comments, but will eventually always protect you from the big bad bullies at school. Even if he did start the bullying. I guess I like him in one form or another. Although I have yet to discover which form that might be.
"Glen, too far. Go to your room."
Ah, it's nice to see Superdad order The Douche to his room. I guess I do love Glen when he's stomping his feet and muttering under his breath and I'm the cause of it.
"So, Spencer. You still haven't answered my question."
My mother is way too interested in my plans and nothing good ever comes from that. We had our Family-Day just 7 weeks ago so I know it's a long time before that comes up again.
"I actually think I did." I say easily while I shuffle myself to the sofa. Might as well make myself comfortable. This may take awhile.
"Nothing specific?" She asks while taking the remote of my hands and effectively blocking the TV I was watching.
"Not really. Just watching some good ole' fashioned TV. Pretty much what I'm trying to do right now." I hint while trying to watch past my mothers body. It doesn't really work when she copies my movements, with her freakishly good anticipation. Guess, I'm not getting out of this conversation any time soon.
"Sounds like a night devoid of excitement."
"Sounds like a night devoid of you and your plans."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"I'll pretend not noticing you pretending not hearing me. And don't even start to pretend not noticing me pretending not noticing you pretending not hearing me."
And I'll pretend that made a whole lot of sense in my mind. I told you our relationship was anything but simplistic.
"I met this girl yesterday."
"Really, mom. At least wait until dad is out of the room."
Dad wakes up and mumbles something from where he's sitting, pretending he was listening carefully to the conversation when he was really dozing off. You see, even he has his limits.
"She's really nice and-"
"No." I answer quickly while I engrossingly examine my nails.
"What? I didn't even ask you something, how can you answer me already?"
"I know what you're trying to do mom and the answer is still no."
"But she's really nice-"
"And I'm sure she'll continue being nice after I don't date her."
You see I used to think that me coming out to my parents would be the hardest thing I would ever have to endure in my life and that everything from then on could only get better. I mean I'm pretty sure that I would've preferred them hosing me down with holy water in the garden, while Biblical verses were blasted through the stereo for the whole neighborhood to hear than this. This has been going on ever since I came out to them.
This as in blind dates.
You know, at first I thought: man, I have the coolest parents. I mean, who would arrange blind dates for their teenage daughter, who just pretty much crushed their only hopes for grandchildren (surely, you're not counting on Glen) and a perfect son-in-law, with some pretty hot chicks. But then one blind date, became two, two became three and three became seventeen. And each one of those seventeen girls had some crazy streak in them, and I'm not talking the good kind of crazy.
My mother, because my dad though I love him is so whipped that he agrees to everything, has become obsessed with my lovelife. It pretty much became her goal to hook me up since that faithful Saturday …
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"Mom, dad there's something I need to tell you."
I'm fifteen and I can't keep this significant part of me hidden from them anymore. They were bound to find out anyway. I just don't want them to do so when I'm in a compromising position with another girl up in my room. God, imagine if mom walked in on us and started pulling the girl I was with by her hair down the stairs and threw her out half-naked.
I really do watch too much TV.
"Did you crash the car again? Spencer, I already told you that getting a drivers license is not overrated."
"No dad, I didn't crash the car … this time. And I still stand by my point of view, thank you very much."
All I'm saying is that if I don't need a license to ride a bike, then why do I need one to drive a car. Practice makes perfect, right?
In my case, a lot of practice makes perfect.
Eventually.
When I'll be 37 or something.
"Did you 'accidentally' walk out of the store with the Manolo Blahniks you tried on, but didn't pay for again?"
"Hey, that was by accident! And whatever mom, you know that trip to the police station was absolutely uncalled for."
If I was going to steal something, I would've at least added a designer bag or two. I mean Winona did it, why can't I?
"Sure honey. Now what's the big news?" My dad says while looking at me expectantly.
He's going to take it good right? I mean he's a social worker, he's supposed to be accepting or something. So he's totally going to be okay with it and he'll probably buy my a pony because he's the best dad in the world. Although, they always say it's the ones you least expect that do something … least-expectantly . Just look at all those serial killers. Everybody is like "he's such a nice guy" and "he seems very shy but also very genuine" and then suddenly BANG! They find his freezer filled with nicely cut chops of his six past girlfriends, who he killed because they said 'hello' instead of 'hi'.
"Spencer?"
"Dad you don't mind if I say 'hello' right?"
"Huh?"
I really should stop watching America's Most Wanted.
"Nevermind."
"Sweetie, I really don't have a lot of time. These scrubs aren't going to get bloody on their own."
Oh God, here I am worrying about dad when mom's the one who uses a scalpel like an attached finger. She works in a hospital, she could totally make me disappear without anyone ever finding my body ever again.
"I … I'm heading over to Sandra's tonight. Don't wait up." I say quickly, before making a beeline for the door.
"Is this about you liking girls."
And I stop right in my tracks. Pretty much just like my heart stopped beating.
"What?"
"You know you being gay. Lesbian if you prefer. You liking the ladies." My mom adds with a teasing voice.
I slowly turn around to find both my parents with smirks painted on their faces.
"What are you talking about. When did you-"
"Since you were about six." My dad answers with a hint of amusement.
That's impossible. I've barely known for sure for a year and a half now.
"How did you-"
"You were constantly letting Malibu Barbie make out with Cheer Barbie." My mom says.
"So, it was completely innocent."
"Naked." My dad adds.
"It was too hot for clothes. It's not my fault they didn't have underwear."
"You tortured Ken." My dad continued. Seriously, who keeps track of stuff like this?
"It was part of the storyline."
"You ripped his arms and legs off and fed them to the dog."
"That bastard cheated on her!"
Cheer Barbie caught him going at it with that plastic, so called best friend, slut Stacey.
On. Their. Bed.
Totally broke her heart. Justice needed to be served.
"You then took his torso and head and threw him in the fryer filled with boiling oil."
"He kept denying it! It was the only way he'd confess."
"We know that Malibu Barbie and Cheer Barbie are still getting it on in the closet in your room, Spence."
"You searched through my closet?" I gasp in shock. I truly hope those Barbie's are the only thing they've found.
"Yeah well, they needed to come out." My mom snickers out, barely containing her laughter.
"Ha ha. And whatever they're just Barbie-dolls, it doesn't prove a thing."
What sane parents base their judgment on dolls?
"You kick-punched Brad when you were 8 when he gave you a kiss on the cheek."
"I was scared of cooties."
"You didn't kick-punch Steffi when she kissed you on the cheek. Multiple times."
"Whatever mom, everybody knows girls don't have cooties."
Seriously, I'm beginning to think their gay-observation was completely accidental. I mean, I'm either straight, bi or gay. It's one chance out of three.
"We know you sneak downstairs to watch The L-word after we go to bed."
Damn, I knew I should've kept the volume down.
"I watch for the sublime acting."
"We know why Madison really started dating Glen."
Oh, shit. Didn't see that one coming. There's only one thing a proud young girl can do in this situation. And that was to give her beloved parents a worthy explanation.
"Okay, I'm gay. Bye mom, bye dad." I say rapidly while powerwalking my way to the closest door.
Too bad I'm just not that kind of girl.
------------
"You make it sound as if we've never done this before."
Yeah, I wonder if I should give her a quick recap of the past seventeen times. It would make an awesome reality show somewhere in the future. I think I'd call it "Spencer meets the Crazies".
"Exactly, and I've finally learned my lesson."
"Honey, there's no need for exaggeration."
"Exaggeration? Really, mom?"
"I dare you to name one bad blind date." She says confidently while staring me straight in the eyes. How does she think she's going to win this confrontation? I should challenge her to name one half-decent blind date.
"Ok. Let's start with Carmen who was so poised on letting me start living la vida loca, since I was a little too 'innocent' for her liking. Or how our first date was at an underground gang-refuge somewhere in the shadiest part of Chinatown."
Yes, I am aware Chinatown is one shady place on itself. So just imagine the shadiest place in this shady town, underground with a very shady-looking gang surrounding you and your shady date.
Exactly. Shady.
"Well, what's wrong with a little adventure? It keeps life interesting."
"Oh yes, very interesting indeed. By the way dad, how is Carmen doing? Still attending your counseling-sessions down at the Youth Detention Center?"
"Huh, what? Sure that's great, honey." He mumbles sleepily, only to doze right off again.
Somebody is going to be in the doghouse tonight.
"What about Jonica? She was such a well-spoken and educated sweet talker."
I thought she was trying to convince my to accept the blind date, not run away from it even faster.
"Don't you mean Grace of God? Oh yeah, she was a sweet talker alright. Even tried to sweet-talk my way into the wonderful world of Jehova."
"So she was a believer. We all believe in something, Spencer. Didn't we learn you not to judge other people's choices of religion?"
"Our first date consisted of door-to-door harassment in every neighborhood in this area. I swear people still close the drapes when I walk by." I deadpan.
I am not overreacting. Some of my friends' parents still won't let me in their house. They're positive I'll brainwash their children into some cult where they work night and day on a spaceship made off carton boxes.
"Spencer-"
"And seriously, Jonica? Why the hell would I date someone who's parents probably named them when they were too plastered to think straight or as high as a kite. In this case probably both."
It would be like Cody dating Topanga all over again. So what if she was the one for him, who would marry a 'Topanga'? I mean imagine if they went on their honeymoon to Copa Cabana where they'd dance the night away to De La Soul's Copa Cabanga. That has tragedy written all over it. I wonder how they would name that episode? The one where Cody and Topanga danced the Copa Cabanga in Copa Cabana. Tongue-twister anyone?
"Okay, I admit that some previous blind dates might not have been very … successful."
Snort. Understatement of the year.
"But this girl … I don't know, I'm just positive you'll like her."
"Yeah, you seemed pretty positive about Gangbangs and Jehonica too."
Yes, I own the copyright to those names. So please do not reciprocate. Not like anyone would want too.
"Spencer this girl is bright, she's funny, she's beautiful, she's charming, she's …"
… psychotic, she's a junkie, she's a stalker, she's a serial-killer. Nothing's too far out of reach when it comes to my mother's insights in people. She knows all about their guts, but nothing about their mind.
"Sounds like a keeper, maybe you should date her."
"She didn't seem interested …"
What?
"What?"
"God, Spence I'm kidding. Seriously, though. Ever since Christine introduced her-"
"Wait, Christine as in Christine Davies?"
"Yes. What's-"
"As in Crazy Chrissy from Spring Break '86?"
"Yes, but-"
"As in the chick that is still featured in the most memorable Spring Breaks on MTV?"
"Spencer-"
"As in the chick that kept flashing her boobs to the camera's screaming 'Lesbians do it better, lesbians make it hotter' ?"
"Yeah. That was one hell of a Spring Break." She muses dreamily.
I seriously don't think I want to investigate that tidbit any further. I'll just repress it along with the many other stories around my parents I pretend not to have heard or worse, experienced. Just like I pretend not to have seen my parents at the local adultshop a few weeks ago when I was doing some research for my Advanced Biology class. Yes, Biology class. I happen to take that class very seriously.
"Uhm, thanks but no thanks."
"But why not?" she asks disappointed. I swear, that woman is way too involved in my lovelife or lack thereof. I'll have to ask dad if he keeps her satisfied.
Damn, that came out wrong.
"Mom, I'm not dating any offspring of Crazy Chrissy and Danger Davies. I mean, do you imagine what those two could produce?"
I'm actually shocked I haven't heard from or seen this girl before on E!. God, knows I'm glued to that channel. I happen to enjoy celebrity's latest drama and issues. It makes me feel better, since I like to think I'm a bit more levelheaded than the average wacko celebrity. Granted I don't have a fortune or even 7 dollars on my bank-account, but still.
"One Danger Crazed Kid?" she jokes half-heartedly.
What if she's like Britney, Lindsay, Paris and Tara all mixed in one? Oh my God, my mother is hooking me up with a bald, ex-con, heroine-addicted crazy who spends her time annoying the shit out of everybody in every city of the world.
"I'm leaving, mom."
"Spencer, at least give her a shot. If you don't like her after one date, I swear I'm not going to pursue you into dating her or any other girl ever again."
Tempting, but there's always a catch with mom.
"I don't care since I'm not going to answer your persuasive ways. I'm my putting foot down on this, mom. I'm not going."
That's right, I said no to mom. The new Spencer is born.
Who am I kidding, my Mystery Date is probably already waiting for me in my room. Mom has some mad skills and what Paula wants, Paula gets.
Blind date from hell part 18, here I come.