why I don't tell my mother anything

Once upon a time not so many years ago, Dolly and I were living in our swingin' bachelorette pad together, when we had a conversation about our extreme difference in one opinion: when and what we would tell our parents regarding boys.

You see Dolly and I had both started dating (different) guys at the same time, and Dolly did not understand why I wouldn't tell my parents about each and every time I would see mine. In fact, months into it, they knew nothing about him at all. Dolly's philosophy, on the other hand, went like this: "Every time I have a date I call my parents and make an announcement so that they don't think I'm a lesbian!"
You see, Dolly's dad had once sat her down and had a talk with her about her singleness. It seemed he thought that because she had never had a boyfriend (she used to refer to herself as "the three date wonder", that she must be gay. I think this was a slightly traumatic conversation for Dolly.)

And now let me give you an example of why I think it's best not to give my mom too much to think about:

This past Sunday afternoon I went over to my parents house, and when my mom asked me what I had been doing, I ignored my instinct and answered her honestly, "I just had lunch with my friend, Hermes*."

Upon hearing a new male name, my mom's head whips all the way around, and she stares at me, with her eyebrows up so high they seem to be attempting to climb off her forehead.
"Oh?", she says, "Who's that?"
"He's a friend. I've known him for a while. I've just gotten to know him better lately."
And this is all she needs to launch into the dozens of questions I was hoping to avoid. She fires them off one after the other, and as my brother would say about shopping at the GAP, it sucks the life out of me.
Among these questions (in addition to many others) are: What does he do? (he's in school) What for? (getting a masters in Divinity) and What does he intend on doing with that? (He's considering becoming an Episcopal priest. yeah, go ahead, Splanny, laugh.)
When I give this last answer, she puts her head in her hands and looks like she's suffering from great pain.
"Oh, Jennifer.." she mumbles through the pain.
"What?"
"I guess that's ok.... it's just that the ministry is a tough life."

Did I say that it is my life? No. Did I say that I am about to elope with a future minister? Noo. Did I say he was my boyfriend? That we were on a date? No and no.
So from there she talks for a few minutes about her day, and just when I think that maybe I'm safe (but only for a while - I'm not so foolish to think there won't be a follow up), she sighs and says,
(with heavy-hearted southern accent)
"You know, I had a cousin who married an Episcopal priest. He had an affair with one of his parishioners. (heavy pause.) She's all alone now."

And THAT is why I keep my silence. Can you blame me?

She knows I have a couple of weddings coming up, and tonight she tried to casually ask me if I was bringing a date. Actually, it wasn't so casual. I told her I had gone to buy make-up after work, and she pointedly asked me how soon a wedding was and if I was bringing a date. I think when I said "I bought make-up" (I was replacing powder) she heard, "I just got a makeover and a new wardrobe is next - I have a future priest to seduce!"

*Hermes is not actually his name of course, but it is one he chose from myself. While he hasn't actually seen the blog (If I told everyone, how would I write about them?) he does know it exists, thanks to someone I will call... let's see... what would a good name for him be... Devil Man. (You know who you are.) Anyway, he had the best reaction possible when he said, "What's my code name going to be? I like either Hermes or Fabio." And Fabio's just not my type.
(And mom, if you are reading this, I put in that last part just to make you worry more - stop it! Also, would you read my diary if you found it sitting out? For shame!)