At 37, I thought I was finally ready to date in peace, free from my mom’s watchful eye. But when my dinner with Theo turned into an impromptu family affair, I quickly realized I was wrong. My mom had crashed the evening 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 she was my whole life. I was 37, but that didn’t stop her from checking in on me daily, making sure every detail of my life was under her control.
“Are you wearing warm socks?” she’d ask. “Are you sure he looked at you with respect and not… interest?”
I worked at a museum, adored art history, lived in my own apartment, had my own bank account, and even had two degrees. Still, every time I saw “Mom calling” on my phone, I instinctively straightened my posture.
