I called Betty last week. “Mom,” I interrupted. “I have news.”
“Oh, let me guess,” she squealed. “You and the Southern Gentleman went to CITY HALL!”
The older I get, the more it pains me to disappoint my mother by being a childless singleton. I can tell how happy she would be if I were married. Which I’m not. “No, Mom,” I said. “We did not go to City Hall and get married.”
Betty backpedaled. “Well, who’s talking about MARRIAGE? People go to City Hall for lots of reasons!”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“Well, maybe you and the Southern Gentleman were getting a permit for a yard sale,” Betty argued. “I didn’t say anything about marrrrrrriage.”
Technically, this is true, but no mother becomes breathless over her daughter potentially having a yard sale. Besides, the idea of a City Hall wedding was probably more exciting to my mom than an actual engagement announcement would have been. Why? A rushed, shotgun wedding would mean that I was pregnant with SG’s offspring, which would make my mother extremely happy. (On the subject of babies that don’t exist: SG and I both have prominent noses, which means that any child we had would probably be 80% schnoz.)