Before, only our author was in love with her little son. Now she shares it with a few other admirers. He's no longer small either. It's really not always easy to bear …
I once read somewhere that every woman has to give birth to the love of her life herself. Whoever wrote this, I find this someone very wise. This thing between mothers and their sons cannot really be described. They are placed on your chest, someone cuts the umbilical cord, they are so tiny and helpless, so fragile and loving, so fearful and overwhelmed by the world. And that's exactly how they kneel in front of the toilet 14 years later and throw up the beer that they had been banned from. They are maybe five feet taller, slur two octaves deeper and are 80 kg heavier than they were when they were born, but still mothers never see the man in front of them, they always see the boy. Even if this boy smells like puke.
She suffered
Since my boy decided at the age of 12 to wear a bold surfer mat and to go to school in pants that were at half past seven with deep insight into his choice of underwear, I am no longer alone with my love for him. First it was a small love letter with 27 misspellings in his pencil case. Then they called. Shortly afterwards he brought her with him. Their names were Lisa, Annabelle and Jane. After that, I didn't bother to remember their names. Because very few lasted weeks. Most a few days. After that, they suffered. That's how he said it. Translation for everyone over 20: "That annoyed me". After that they were gone anyway.
My son is don Juan
For my part, that was a good thing. My heart broke regularly with those of Annabelle, Lisa, Sofie and Mia. I still knew too well how it had felt on the other side. Back when Torben, Christian and Florian behaved like that. I had suffered there and was exchanged for the next one, as if nothing was there. I decided to talk to my little womanizer. "Girls' hearts are not toys," I told him, and he pretended to be terribly annoyed. "Perhaps one or the other only suffered because you are particularly important to them?" I persisted. This tall guy moved close to me and hugged me a little pityingly. "Oh mom, you don't understand!" He muttered in my ear in his deep voice. "It's all just a game!" And I wondered sadly what I had taught him about women that he would treat them like that.
There's a good guy in there
A few weeks later I met Maja. Maja was a little taller, a little louder, and a little more special than all the other girls don Juan had dragged home. And then something happened that really surprised me. Maja was annoying. And colossal. I heard her bitch, she interfered, she criticized my son, even before me. Sometimes she even agreed with me when I argued with my offspring. And yet: Maja stayed. At some point I dared to ask. "Why hasn't Maja suffered long ago?" And again my son put his arm around me. "Because she has an opinion, mom. Because she doesn't like everything I think is good. And because I can admire her." Only then did I understand. The image my son had of women wasn't all that bad. On the contrary. He just couldn't do anything with giggling, profileless little girls, he needed a partner at eye level. He had found it in Maja.
What I learned from my son
If I hadn't had my son, I would still have little idea about men today. To this day I wouldn't understand why Torben, Christian and Florian ran away. Why I suffered, even if nobody used to call it that (lucky!). Like all the Lisas and Sofies, I too had to learn to be completely ME in the presence of a guy I thought was great. And it was probably good for me that the Torbens and Christians had punished me for handing off a flat decal of myself. I had to learn it somehow.
Is it all just a game?
At some point Maja was gone after all. "I suffered," my son told me with a sad wink. "I'm too nice for her!" This time I took him in my arms. "Maybe this is really just a game?" I said thoughtfully. "Until you find this one person who can stand you and whom you can stand yourself, even if he is annoying." I will never forget what he said then. He said, "Like the two of us, mom". And that's when I realized: we will always see the little boy in them. And she is a solid rock in us. And I hope that one day a girl will come who can see in him what I see and that he can see for what it is. Until then, I want him to be don Juan. The main thing is that a Maja comes by in between to straighten his arrogant, pretty head a little. Anyway, I can live with a Don Juan who is too nice …