Standards

My mother asked me when I was six what I wanted in my prince charming one day. I told her that he had to make me pancakes and sing to me like in all the cartoons, then I would go about my day to color more pictures that would hang on the fridge.

My mother asked me again when I was eight what I wanted in my prince charming when I grew up to find one. I told her that he had to be nice, share his toys with all the other kids and still had to sing to me like in all the Disney movies.

My mother asked me again when I was ten what I wanted in a boyfriend when I was allowed to have one. I would laugh and tell her that he had to be smart and funny and still had to sing to me like all the princes did in the Disney movies.

My mother asked me again when I was fifteenth what I wanted in a husband when I got to that point in my life. I rolled my eyes and asked her why she thought I would get married, that I just wanted to get tattoos and work in a hospital. She smiled and pushed for an answer. At this age, I had had a few crushes and I was liking one boy. I think his name was Brandon. I don’t remember. I started to describe what he looked like and then told her what I wanted his personality to be like. I wanted a guy that was smart, kind, had a sense of humor and would still sing to me.

Now that it is a few years later, my mother has yet to ask me again. I am waiting for it. I might go ahead and tell her anyways on my next phone call. Before I met my sailor, I would have told her that I wanted a guy that I could trust and rely on, that he must be kind. I wanted a guy that could make me laugh and help me relax when I got angry enough to want to hit someone (which I never have, but have wanted to). I would have told her that I wouldn’t have cared what he looked like as long as he took care of himself, but honestly I’ve always liked clean-shaven men. I would’ve also added in that he has to be good with kids. More than anything-he still has to sing to me.

When I told my mom I started dating a United States Sailor, she was quite at first. I got nervous. I wanted her approval. It was important to me. I wanted her to like him, or at least the idea of him. She started asking about him. She started with the basics, his name, where he was from, how old he is. Everyone knows the basics. She seemed interested and we kept talking for a good hour plus. This made me happy. Towards the end of our conversation, I asked if she thought she could like him. She said yes, but sooner or later wanted to talk to him herself. I smiled and shot my hand in the air, fist up. Then she asked the ultimate question.

“Has he sang for you yet?”

Oh mother. She cracks me up. But it is a good question. It must be on the boyfriend resume for my mother and me to continue to approve.

My answer. Yes, he has sang a song for me. Not a Disney song. Nope, and we weren’t dancing either. Personally, I think it was cheesier than that. I was sick and he was on his base while I was home. He felt bad that he couldn’t do anything to help me. So, us having talked about music a million times before…. He went into the bathroom away from his roommates and sang for me. I must tell you guys. I had butterflies and my cheeks were flushed. I was totally falling in love at this point. It was around three months into our relationship. I think.

BUT him being a little turd, when I felt better, he talked me into singing back to me. I love him. We’ve been singing back and forth to each other since. It’s adorable. I hate doing it, I get nervous every time, but it makes him smile. I like when he smiles.

I love him. I could scream it from the roof tops. But I don’t want to get arrested.

 

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