Mothers-in-law

Tonight, I attended a musical performance in an art gallery.

During the second part, after interacting briefly with a woman who helped me get water out of the near-empty water dispenser, the woman approached me:

W: As a mother of three boys, I have to ask you: Are you married?

H: [quiet laughter, because the concert has resumed in the next room of the gallery] I am not, no.

W: Good, because I like you… I have a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, so you can take your pick.

H: Didn’t you just say that one of them is married?

W: Well, yes, the redhead is married.

H: [quiet laughter]

W: … But that might not last… you never know… And then you could have him… I’d be a good mother-in-law… I’m great at presents… I’ve had to deal with multiple mothers-in-law, so I’ve learned… I can be a very good mother-in-law… and I wouldn’t live next door.

Another 45 minutes or so later, the concert had ended, I had had several more reasons shared with me as to why I ought to consider marrying one of this woman’s sons, and I left the gallery with her e-mail and phone number, not because she had me convinced with her son who looks just like the (absolutely gorgeous, in my opinion) guy in “Fantastic Beasts” (though I remember him from loving him in “Les Mis'”), or with the fact that his job is a promise of absurdly high amounts of money for the rest of our lives, but because of her job…

You see, I was thinking to myself just his morning that I was interested in learning more about this specific something in Houston… and here I was tonight, under hilarious pretenses, handed a woman who works in just that specific something.

I plan to e-mail her this week to set up a meeting about her work.

And, who knows?… perhaps I’ll end up going out with her boy after all. πŸ˜›

H: [totally cracks up, alone in her room, as she considers the scenario]

Post-a-day 2019

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