At 37, I thought I could finally date in peace until my Mom crashed dinner with a list of rules… and somehow ended up on a date with my boyfriend.
I always knew I had a mom. But sometimes, it felt like my mom was my whole life. I was 37, but that didn’t stop her from asking me every single day:
“Are you wearing warm socks?” or “Are you sure he looked at you with respect and not… interest?”
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I worked in a museum, adored art history, lived in my own apartment, had a bank account, and had two degrees… Yet every time I saw “Mom calling” on my phone, I instinctively straightened my posture.
She controlled everything. From when I should go to bed to what color I painted my nails.
Once, I ordered salmon delivery, and 20 minutes later, she called.
“I saw him go into your house. Was that him?”
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“Mom, are you spying on my house?”
“I just sat in the car nearby. In case of suspicious movement.”
She had binoculars. And a notebook. She called it “just in case.”
As a child, it was cute. At 20, it got annoying. By 30, I began to question our “normal.”
At 37, I met Theo.
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For the first time in my life, I didn’t tell her right away.
It was my first grown-up secret. And, of course, it lasted exactly three days. Until Mom ruined everything.
But I’ll tell you that in a moment.
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***
I was preparing for my dinner with Theo. I baked a pie I found online, not from Mom’s sacred recipe book.
Even if it came out a bit burnt and the chicken was a little dry — those were my mistakes. My life.
I could already imagine my mother’s face if she saw the meal — a guaranteed explosion. I smiled quietly to myself while checking the candles.
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A week earlier, she declared, “I want to meet him. In person. At my house. At the table. With my questions.”
“Mom, let me be an adult for once. I’ll decide when to introduce you.”
She backed off for once. It felt odd, but I didn’t think much of it. Big mistake.
That night, Theo came over for the first time. He brought tulips, non-alcoholic wine (knowing I was tired after work), and a cake from the bakery I always visit during lunch.
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“I just wanted to get everything right,” he smiled, setting the plates.
“Theo, with you, it always feels right.”
Something warm and calm bloomed in my chest. We talked for hours. Laughed. Dreamed.
“Imagine… a little house by an old lighthouse,” he said.
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“And in the basement — an archive of old love letters.”
“You’d preserve them, and I’d write new ones.”
Candles were burning low. Music hummed softly. He touched my hand.
“I thought after all the heartbreaks, nothing would ever happen again. And then you came along…”
And at that exact moment…
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“ACHOO!”
From the closet. We froze.
“You’re not alone?” Theo shot me a look.
I got up. Opened the closet.
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“Mooom?!”
She sat in the dark. With a headlamp. And a thermos.
“What… what are you doing?!”
“Oh, hi! I was just checking if you’re storing things in your closet without lavender,” she mumbled, not even trying to sound convincing.
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“You broke into my apartment?!”
“I was just making sure. Listening. Evaluating. I didn’t interfere!”
Theo, somehow, still managed to smile politely.
“Good evening. I’m Theo. Very nice to meet you.”
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“Theo. Short. Like most male patients,” Mom said, sitting on the couch. “Sit. Let’s get to know each other.”
I wanted to run. But Theo sat down. Bravely.
And the interrogation began.
“Do you have a job?”
“Yes. I teach literature…”
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“Do you work 9 to 5?”
“Flexible hours.”
“So, no structure. Got it. Do you drink alcohol?”
“A glass of wine, sometimes…”
“Sometimes means regularly.”
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“Mom…”
“Quiet, Eliza. I’m asking.”
Then she turned back to him again, “How many women before my daughter?”
“I… excuse me?”
“Are you deaf?”
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“No, I just think that’s a bit…”
“You should always think. Before approaching a woman with serious intentions.”
Theo looked at me. As if to ask, “Is this a joke?”
I tried to say with my eyes, “No. This is my life.”
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Mom stood up. “Now, a test.”
“What?” we both said.
“Wipe the table. With a sponge. No streaks. If there’s even one mark — you’re not for her.”
“Mom, enough!”
I was desperate and angry. But to my greatest surprise…
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Theo stood up, went to the kitchen, found the sponge… and wiped. It was perfect. She checked the surface and ran her finger across.
“Hmm. Survived. For now.”
Then, Mom dramatically handed Theo a paper. He smiled while skimming it, then slowly, he frowned before handing it to me.
“I think I should go. I’ll call you.”
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He left. Just like that. I finally looked down at the letters she wrote in thick black marker.
RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGTER
1. Have a job.
2. Understand I don’t like you.
3. I am EVERYWHERE.
4. You make HER cry — I make YOU cry.
5. Be home 30 min early.
6. SHE is my PRINCESS. Not your conquest.
7. I don’t mind going to jail.
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Daugter. With a typo. That said it all.
“Mom, it’s time for you to go.”
“Oh, sweetie, if he leaves at the first sign of trouble, is he even a man?”
“He didn’t leave me. He said he’d call.”
“Same thing.”
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“Maybe he just didn’t enjoy being around you?”
“You’re overreacting.”
“You crossed the line, Mom! Please, leave. I want to be alone.”
Mom’s words echoed in my head.
Has Theo really left… forever?
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***
Three days passed. No texts. No calls. I caved and sent him a short message:
“I’m sorry for how everything went. You didn’t deserve that.”
Seen. No reply.
And then — a knock at the door. I opened it, my heart racing. It was him and he was there with flowers.
“Come on. I’ve planned a date… for you and your Mom.”
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I blinked. “What?”
“Just trust me.”
We picked up my Mom. She barely got in the car before starting her usual commentary.
“Where are we going? I have to defrost the freezer!”
“Surprise,” Theo smiled.
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The first stop? His lecture.
Mom and I sat in the back. Theo stood in front of a class full of students, talking about love in literature.
“To be with someone doesn’t always feel poetic. But it’s always worth it.”
“Oh, I might fall asleep here,” Mom whispered.
“Mom. Shhh.”
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“If he’s trying to seduce us both with lectures — he failed.”
I gave her a look. But I held on. I knew this wasn’t all Theo had planned.
Next stop — a boat ride. On the lake, with a plaid blanket, strawberries, and tea in a thermos. (Yes, the exact tea Mom liked. He remembered.)
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“Yet another romantic coma,” Mom muttered, but this time, she was chuckling.
As we floated, Theo turned to her gently.
“So, Barbara. What are your hobbies?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Hobbies? Suspicion. Avoiding scams. Crosswords when I can’t sleep.”
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“I bet you’re good at them.”
“I once found three typos in The New York Times. Sent them a letter. And you didn’t find one.”
“You planted that typo?”
“Of course, sweetie — it was a test for your Theo.”
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“A test? For spelling? Mom, he’s a university professor!”
“No, more like a test for politeness,” she smirked. “He passed.”
Then she leaned to move closer to the edge… and slipped.
SPLASH.
She fell right into the water. I gasped. Then, she laughed so hard I nearly joined her.
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“YOU LAUGHING? I COULD DROWN!”
Theo jumped in without hesitation. Swam straight to her, helped her out, and wrapped her in a blanket. Soaked, shivering, furious — but secretly touched. Back on land, she was about to stomp away.
“I need to go home. I’m done.”
Theo calmly said, “There’s a sports store nearby. Time for a wardrobe refresh.”
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He disappeared. Came back ten minutes later with two matching athletic outfits. One for me. One for Mom. She held hers suspiciously.
“How did you guess my size?”
“Easy. You’re built perfectly for a Medium. Athletic and classic.”
She smiled. Barely. Quietly. But I saw it. She loved attention.
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We changed. And then — the climbing wall.
“Last challenge, I promise,” Theo grinned. “Climbing wall. One climbs, the other keeps the rope. Trust exercise.”
“Oh no. I’m 60!”
“Exactly. Perfect age for adventure.”
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To my absolute shock, Mom went first. Halfway up, she shouted:
“THEO! IF I FALL — I’M HAUNTING YOU!”
She didn’t fall. She reached the top. And when she came down, her eyes were gleaming.
“Okay, professor. Not bad.”
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“To end the day,” Theo said, “I’d like to make you both dinner. My place.”
Mom looked at me. “I have no choice. I need to see where this man lives. Maybe I’ll discover his secret lair.”
***
Theo’s house was beautiful. Clean. Warm. It smelled like citrus and cedar. I’d never been there before. And I was stunned.
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“Did you buy this on a teacher’s salary or rob a bank?” Mom asked, peeking into the kitchen.
“Started saving in high school. Plus I teach online courses on the side. Hard work pays off.”
“Well, look at you,” she muttered. Then, louder, “Does the fridge clean itself, or are you just this weird?”
Theo just laughed.
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We sat on the terrace. Theo grilled steaks nearby while the sun dipped low. Mom leaned back. Actually relaxed.
“You know… he’s not so bad, honey.”
“Really? Wow. Mom, you’re on fire today.”
“I was too distrustful. Because your father left. And I didn’t want you to get burned like I did.”
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“But Mom, it’s my life. I need to make my own mistakes. Walk my own path.”
“Theo is wonderful. It’s obvious he loves you. I mean, he jumped in a lake to save his future mother-in-law.”
We both laughed.
“And he could’ve dropped me on that climbing wall. But he didn’t. That’s some nerve control.”
Theo joined us, carrying two plates.
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“Hungry?”
“Always,” Mom said.
“Even for this? Because I have one more course.”
Theo knelt on one knee.
“Eliza, these past three months have been the best of my life. You’ve brought color back into everything. And your mom… we’re friends now.”
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“Almost,” Mom added.
“Not even the rule list could scare me away. I want to share my home, my life… all of it. And yes, even see your mom — but no more than twice a week.”
He laughed. I gasped.
“Will you marry me?”
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I blinked. Heart racing.
“Sweetheart,” Mom nudged me. “I’d have said yes already.”
“YES. Of course — yes!”
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***
Mom changed.
She started Pilates, bought her first floral swimsuit, and we no longer lived in a co-dependent loop. We were separate but always family.
Finally, our coffee dates felt like chats between old friends.
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She told me about her fitness class. I told her how Theo’d forgotten to take out the trash and called it a “creative delay.”
I finally became myself. And I think — she also did.
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A woman told her daughter that her father had passed away – years later, the girl uncovered a heartbreaking truth
When Cassie returns from a getaway with her husband and son, she walks into her home to see a cryptic message from her mother — telling her to watch a video. As Cassie presses play, her entire life changes. In the end, she’s left wondering which of her parents are worthy of forgiveness.
In my eyes, my father could do no wrong. He was everything I needed him to be and more. He was a businessman who was always traveling, but he ensured that he made enough time for me.
“You’re my little girl, Cassie,” he would say, bopping my nose with his index finger. “You’re the most special.”
My parents always went out of their way for me — ensuring that despite their busy schedules, we would have family dinner almost every night.
It was the one thing that kept me grounded while both of my friends from school were in the middle of their parents’ messy divorces.
“I think it’s trendy now,” I told my mother as she cut slices of banana bread for me after school one day.
“Cas, you cannot think that divorce is trendy,” she laughed. “It’s devastating and traumatic, and very few families actually keep things civil.”
“I’m just saying that it’s trendy because a lot of kids live between two homes,” I explained to her. “It’s one of those things we were talking about in class today.”
I was fourteen, and the world seemed more dramatic than it should have been.
But what I didn’t know was that my words seemed to be an incantation that settled over our home.
A few weeks after that conversation, my father went away on a business trip. A few hours after he had been gone, there was news of his passing.
“How?” I asked. “How did he die?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie,” she replied. “I’m just saying what the paramedics told me.”
“So what will we do next?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled by the question.
“For the funeral?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to have one?”
“I don’t think so,” my mother replied. “Dad wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread at the beach. Let’s do that instead.”
I couldn’t fathom why my mother would want to do that — but at the end of the day, she knew my father best. And the longer I thought about it, the more beautiful and sentimental a private ceremony at the beach felt.
“Don’t be difficult, Cassie,” my mother said when she saw me thinking about my next move.
“I’m not,” I said. “Really. I was just thinking about it. It’s a great idea, Mom.”
I could have fought her for a send-off that I thought would have been more appropriate. But what use would it have been? At the end of the day, we had both lost him.
The months following the beach ceremony felt weighted, and I knew that I was becoming deeply depressed — my father had been our world. And his absence was felt more than anything.
But, with time, I learned to live with it.
Last week, I decided to book a cabin in the woods for a little family vacation. My son was adamant that camping was the new best thing, and I knew that despite the wonders of nature, I wasn’t going to camp in a tent without a bathroom in sight.
Instead, I thought that a cabin would be the best option — my husband, Derek, could camp outside with Drew, our son, if he insisted on it.
We had a dog, therefore, I asked my mother to house-sit for the week so that we could be at peace, knowing that Romeo was taken care of.
A week away was more than enough to restore my mind — and eventually, when we went back home, I was surprised to see that my mother wasn’t there. In fact, it looked like she had never been there.
But there, on the coffee table, was a note beneath the TV remote.
Watch this, Cassie. I’m sorry. — Mom
I didn’t know what was in store for me, but while Derek got Drew into the bath, I put the TV on and began to watch whatever my mother had planned.
The TV flickered to life, and there he was, my father, his voice a long-lost melody, his image aged but still, unmistakably him.
Tears streamed down my face as the realization that he was still alive enveloped me in a mix of joy and disbelief.
The video message was nothing short of unpredictable.
My dear Cassie, I’m still here, alive. I’m so sorry for the pain that you must have felt from my loss. But it was needed. I needed to be removed from your life because of the sordid truth of my past. Your mother knows everything, please ask her for the truth.
My health is on a steady decline, and I would love to see you and explain it all.
Love you, Dad.
Without telling Derek or Drew anything, I grabbed the car keys and ran out. I needed my mother to explain.
“So, I bet you’ve got questions for me,” she said, opening the door.
“Explain it all,” I said.
“Cassie, it’s heavy. You look tired from your trip; are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.
I nodded. It was now or never. I needed to know why my father faked his own death to get out of our lives.
My mother made us some tea and took out some shortbread.
“Darling,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but there’s so much about that time that I need to tell you.”
I sipped my tea, trying to figure out what my mother was about to tell me.
“I remember that you were telling me about your friend’s parents getting divorced. Do you remember that?” she asked.
I nodded. Of course, I did. It was the strangest thing, but it was so common when I was in school.
“Well, your father and I were not legally married. So when I told him about our conversation regarding divorce, he was actually relieved. Without being married, there would be no divorce.”
“What’s the big deal?” I asked.
“Then I found out that the real reason that we didn’t get married was because your father was already married to another woman.”
“What?” I exclaimed, almost dropping my cup. “To who?”
“To a woman in the town where he always had his business trips.”
“You didn’t know?” I asked, unable to believe her words.
“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “But when I pressed him about it, he decided to choose that family over us. So, I told him that the story was going to be his death.”
We were both silent for a moment.
Turns out that my mother told him that she would never tell me the truth, not when he was my favorite person. She couldn’t burst my bubble in that way. And she refused to let him see me one more time.
“It was better for you to think that it was an accident,” my mother said. “It just made more sense.”
Now, I understood why we didn’t have a funeral for him.
“What did we throw into the sea, then?” I asked.
“Dust,” she replied with a straight face.
My mother had spoken to him twice over the years. The second time being a day ago.
During their meeting, my father confessed his imminent death due to illness and requested that she give me the recording. My mother, torn by guilt and love, chose to write me the note and have the recording all set for me to watch.
“I would have taken the secret to my grave,” she said. “But knowing that he was ill and wanted to see you just struck something in me.”
Compelled by a need to confront the reality of my father’s existence, I traveled to the state where he lived with his other family.
I spent a few weeks with my father — going in and out of hospitals, watching him take an array of different medication, and growing weaker by the day.
Sitting at his bedside, I listened to his stories, the regrets, the moments of joy, and the love he had for all his children — myself included.
When things started to go downhill, I asked Derek to fly over with Drew. It was going to be a fleeting moment, but at least I’d know that my son had met my father.
A few days later, my father died.
Even now, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for the lie of having a double life. I just know that when it came to it in the end — I wanted to spend time with him. I had shoved my feelings aside, hoping for memories that I could figure out later.
But now that the dust has settled, I’m trying to figure out if I should forgive my mother for lying.
What would you do?
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