Mom knows why I'm single

This afternoon was a perfect storm, or rather, offered perfect storm conditions: I was tired, mom was tired, we agreed to go shopping (i.e., told dad we would), and mom dilly-dallied until the shops would be crowded (I get cranky in crowded shops). Here's a chronology:

2pmish: Dad drops us off (after picking me up from the airport), goes back to work, says he'll be back around 4:30pm. Mom and I say we'll get groceries. We debate between the nearer Whole Foods and the farther (and much less expensive but equally excellent Russo's). I personally hate going to Russo's with my mother because it gets very crowded, and she insists on taking a cart through the store's narrow aisles. But, whatever; at that point I'm game.

For the next hour or so, mom showers and looks for food around the house. She keeps saying she's tired. I encourage her to take a nap. She keeps saying she doesn't want to, it's too nice out... but she doesn't go outside. I proceed to remind her that if we're going to go shopping, we should go shopping. Finally, she agrees that we should go shopping. I ask her if she has the keys to the house. She does not. She looks for them and tells me to look, too. I tell her I don't know what they look like (they recently had the locks changed because one set stopped working). She said they looked like keys. I looked around and saw six pairs of glasses, then seven, but no keys. Then, she found a key. By then, it was almost 4pm.

As we were about to leave the house, mom stopped to dilly-dally about something else. I don't even remember what it was at this point, but it was not important and we didn't have time for it.

A.: Let's go. We'll deal with it later.
Mom: You know what? You make me sick! I don't want to go shopping with you!
A.: Then don't. I'll just go to WF.

[Pause.]

Mom: Well, I know that's not what you really want to do. So be it, let's go together.

There are a few more distractions on the way to the car. Finally, we get to the store. Mom passes up a perfectly good parking spot and drives across the lot, in the opposite direction from the store, and parks in the middle of two spots. I point out to her that she didn't park well. She tells me to shut up, but she moves the car.

We start shopping. She tells me to get a cart, which I do, and of course it is I who ends up pushing it through those narrow aisles. I ask her what kind of greens she wants. She briefly deigns to answer before she goes to the section with the pre-packaged discount foods. Which is normally fine, but the only thing there is plum tomatoes, and store-bought plum tomatoes are already horrendous even before being shrink-wrapped like these are. I balk.

A.: Why are you buying those?
Mom: They're a dollar.
A.: That's a great reason.

We keep shopping. I remind mom she already has onions; she insists she does not. I tell her I saw a whole basket. She doesn't believe me. [Upon getting home, I point to the basket of onions. She says, "huh, I don't remember getting those. Maybe dad did. Anyway, I don't remember their being there." I told her I'd reminded her.]


The crowds are gathering; I'm getting crankier. We come across some gorgeous heirloom tomatoes.

A.: Could we get those instead?

Oh, side note: mom thought she lost her wallet (she later found it, in the house, but not before she cancelled all the credit cards). I told her I'd charge the groceries. She insisted she'd pay me back; I said it was fine. Point is, it's not like I'm only going for more expensive groceries because mom's paying for them.

A.: They're not much more expensive, but they're going to be much better.
Mom: WHY DO YOU THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? THEY'RE NOT BETTER! THOSE TOMATOES ARE JUST FINE.
A.: Alright, whatever you say.
Mom: Now I know.
A.: Now you know what?

I know what she's going to say, but I want her to say it.

Mom: I know why you have problems with people.
A.: Please tell me.
Mom: You're so cold. You're difficult to be around. You emit no warmth!

Mom has a point: when I'm stressed and cranky because I'm in a crowded grocery store that I don't want to be in, I emit no warmth. Guilty as charged.

Mom: No warmth! No warmth!

[Pause]

Mom: I know why you're single!

This went on as we checked out, walked to the car, and drove home. I texted Jay and tweeted as she talked.

Mom: No warmth whatsoever. You're cold. You're difficult to be around. You're a know-it-all!
A.: What all do I know?
Mom: I used to wonder, why things worked out for other people but not for you. Now I know.
A.: Things?
Mom: Relationships. Other people have relationships. You can't.

It's funny, but all three people in this world who have taken the liberty to lecture me about being single are divorced (two, one of whom is my mother, have since remarried). And all three said that they married the first time because they were afraid of being alone, were afraid no one else would come along. If there's one reason I'm single, it's because I'm not afraid of being alone. Note: I'm not suggesting I don't have issues; I'm saying that my issues are no less manageable than those of people who happen to have relationships. In other words, my issues are not why I'm single.

Mom: No warmth! I know this woman, she's really fat. But her husband adores her, because she's not a know-it-all and she emits warmth.

Mom: You're so harsh! And you know what, at this point you couldn't correct course if you wanted to. Maybe you've tried to do it, but you just can't.

I think she's projecting. The truth is, I'm very aware of my more negative tendencies, and I'm very willing to manage them. I don't claim to be perfect (nor do I claim to know everything). I own my behavior even when it's tempting to blame mom for putting me in a mood; it's tempting, but I can't. I know that ultimately it's me.

So here's another guilty as charged: if I'm in a mood, I may snap. Certain things--air travel, crowded grocery stores--bring out the mood in me. There you go: I am not a saint. But does that make me an undateable ice queen?

And I know, and I've told you before, that I was not of a saintly disposition in the weeks that my last relationship went to hell, and it's no "excuse" that I was in a bad place. But the relationship did not go to hell solely because of me or because of my alleged harshness or know-it-allness or lack of warmth. It went to hell because that's where it belonged. Mom may see its demise as a failure on my part, but that relationship could never have been a success. And I can almost assure you that I'm the only one taking responsibility for what I could, should have done better as the relationship failed.


Mom: Warmth is important. But you, you emit a coldness. And you snap over the smallest things!

Okay, now mom is truly projecting.

PS: Dad is now arguing with mom about the plum tomatoes. And mom is throwing a fit in response.