Mother's Bad Date May 2026

My mother doesn’t date often. After the divorce, she said she was “recalibrating,” which is a very mom way of saying she’d rather read a mystery novel in a bathrobe than suffer small talk with a stranger. But her friend Carol insisted. “You’re a catch, Linda. A whole marlin.”

“He asked the waitress for a ‘protein-forward’ salad. Then he sent it back because the avocado was ‘too ripe.’ He said ripe avocados are the gaslighters of the produce world.” mother's bad date

She was back by 8:47.

She winked. And just like that, Gary the ergonomic-chair salesman became a ghost—a cautionary tale, a footnote, a tiny, ridiculous speed bump on the long, strange road of my mother’s recalibration. My mother doesn’t date often