Should I get married?
Dear Dale:
I’m a middle-aged man who lives with his mom. I’m an only child and my dad died when I was five. Since then, it’s just been the two of us. She cooks my meals, cleans my room and does my laundry. We go shopping together and she tells me what to buy. She even chooses my clothes and lays them out on the bed while I’m having a shower.
In return, I support her. My salary goes into her account, she pays all the bills and gives me an allowance for comics, candy and action figures. It’s great! I don’t have to think about anything.
Recently, however, I met this woman and she keeps mentioning marriage. At first, I thought she was talking about someone else but turns out she means me. Now, I’m not a sexual person but my mom is in her sixties. Who’s going to take care of her when she’s old and sick? I sure can’t. I can’t even buy my own underwear. So, a live-in nurse might be just the thing.
What do you think? Should I risk the perfect relationship I have with my mom by turning it into a threesome or just hire an illegal to look after her?
Signed,
Momma’s boy
Dear MB:
First off, I don’t think you quite understand the concept of a threesome. Not that it matters. My guess is, you’ll never experience one. Which is too bad.
Believe me, I know. I’ve got this thing going with a couple chicks who are close friends. Very close. Closet lesbians, actually. They just can’t admit it. So instead they use me as a match to light their fire. I don’t mind. I’m happy to get mine and then sit back and watch the two of them go at it.
Got to say though: I’m having a hard time relating. Even though, like you, I lost my dad early. Took off when I was two. Went out for a pack of smokes and never came back. Mom told me he was killed in a drug deal. Figured it would be easier that way. At least yours had the decency to die.
Probably felt family life was interfering with his drinking. Don’t know why. Never stopped my mom. Sometimes, when the social worker came by to check on us, she’d be passed out on the living room floor and I’d have to throw a blanket over her and pretend she was a pile of laundry. Fortunately, the place was always so dirty no one could tell the difference.
Can’t blame her though. Mom was a prom night knock-up. Which was the end of all her hopes and dreams.
(A fact she often brings up when drunk.)
She was going to be a somebody, a hairdresser or receptionist. Instead, she spent her life working as a housekeeper in a hospital, cleaning up blood and shit. At least she graduated from high school. The first in her family.
Now she lives in a nursing home. Scammed her way in by trashing her liver. Earns pocket money by giving hand-jobs to the old dudes.
(As well as more than a few of the staff.)
It’s hard work. Takes a lot to launch those rockets. Got so bad she had to start charging by the minute.
Naturally, the nurses don’t like it. But what can they do? She has no money. Besides, it makes them look good. Visitors always comment on how happy the old guys look and what excellent care they must be receiving.
As a result, I had a lot of freedom growing up. Could do whatever I wanted. Eat chips for breakfast, drink whiskey during the day and work part-time at the pool hall running errands for lowlifes.
(You can learn a lot hanging out with criminals. Important things too. Like how to break into a car, where to pawn stolen goods and who has the purest coke. Valuable information for an eight-year-old. Really gives you a leg up on the other kids.)
You, on the other hand, seem to have had an ideal childhood: a mother who dotes on you and no father or siblings to deal with.
Unfortunately, it never ended. Like Peter Pan, you never grew up. Still live in a world of comics and candy instead of graduating to the adult pleasures of alcohol and hard drugs.
Furthermore, your mother controls every aspect of your life, including your sexuality: by infantilizing you, she keeps your balls in your purse.
Not that it matters. You don’t use them. By your own admission, you’re not a sexual person and that’s fine. More chicks for the rest of us.
The only question is this woman you’ve met.
Got to warn you: women are trouble. Besides screwing up your social life — believe it or not, she’ll actually expect you to spend time with her — they’re unpredictable. One moment they’re making you dinner. The next, they’re chasing you around the room with a steak knife. Believe me, I know.
Now it’s possible she’s the meek-and-mild sort who’ll peacefully slot into the number three spot in your family but, given how pro-active she’s being about getting married, I very much doubt it.
Odds are, she’s a closet dominatrix, the type who likes to give orders and has spotted you as a soft touch who can be easily pushed around. In other words, a woman much like your mother.
You may think that’s a good thing but believe me, it’s not. No matter how big the house, there’s only room for one top she-dog and they’ll constantly fight for control: your mother will have one of your balls and your wife, the other, and they’ll pull in opposite directions.
Now I know some guys are into that kind of thing but I doubt you’re one. No, you’re the sort who wants a peaceful life. Just sit at home and play with your action figures while life passes you by. Nothing ventured, nothing lost.
And that’s fine. It’s a sound evolutionary strategy. No unnecessary movement. Just eat, drink and sleep. Like the sloth, snail or city worker.
But you can say goodbye to all that if you marry this woman. She and your mother will be at it all day long and your life will be a living hell.
It might even drive you to drink: desperate to escape the horrors of home, you’ll take refuge in sleazy bars, playing pool, doing drugs and listening to drunks tell the same story over and over again.
(Guess there is a good side.)
So break it off with her and hire an illegal instead. It might cost more — although I doubt it; women are surprisingly expensive — but what good is money if you’re miserable? Do it. You’ll be glad you did. Hope this helps.
Sincerely,
Dale
Hi. If you’ve made it this far, you probably liked the story. So why not check out some others at my Medium page? https://medium.com/dear-dale
