I Think He's Gone Weird
General I Think He's Gone Weird

“Whilst I was at home watching Gilmore Girls and eating cola bottles, Sam had danced his way over to my mother on the dancefloor…”

This story takes place when I was in bed all cosy, sudocrem on all my spots, without a care in the world. Sometime late into the night, I heard shuffling downstairs. That was it, my parents were back from the wedding they had gone to and Mum had been on the Prosecco.

Within 10 minutes, as expected, my bedroom door flew open and Mum strolled in with a very dramatic “GUESS WHO I WAS CHATTING TO TONIGHT?” By that dramatic entrance you would hope it would be some world famous celeb, but nope. I knew it had to be some gobsh**e I had dated. Oh here we go.

So, let’s just call this guy Sam. I had recently been involved with Sam before he, shockingly, went weird and gradually faded out of my life. That’s the general vibe anyway, he went weird and I deleted him off social media. You know the sitch.

Whilst I was at home watching Gilmore Girls and eating cola bottles, Sam had danced his way over to my mother on the dancefloor. “Mrs Fox!” he said. “Sam!” she replied. “Wait, how do you know me?” “I have my ways and means!” Mum stated, before dancing away mysteriously, making her way back to her fellow dancing friends as if she was in a girl band.

Sometime later, he approached again, trying to suss out some information on me. Little did he know, my mother knew it all, the ins and outs, there was no sweet talking his way out of this one. In fact, she knew too much. Poor soul.

The night ended on a complete high with what had fully unfolded. It was a quick moment, but very powerful. Sam danced closer again, and proceeded to state to my Mum: “Fe has fallen out with me!” So, how did she, my Mother – a middle aged, happily married lady – handle that situation? With another sip of Prosecco and a highly empowered, Little Mix-esque: “Yeah, that might be because you’re a f**kboy!” Somebody PLEASE get this woman as squad support in pub bathrooms!

He didn’t ask any questions from there on out, and funnily enough, hadn’t asked my Dad anything at all. Might be due to my Dad’s angry tomato head and the daggers shooting across the room all night. Shocker, really…

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