"Three tables away, please be discreet," I hiss in my husband's ear. We are sitting in our fully occupied favorite restaurant. "Right or left? And I look as I want, that's ridiculous," my husband hisses back, "there's a group of pensioners sitting, who do you mean?" I mean the waitress. She is young, blonde, sexy and you can see that she enjoys the job. Anyway, she smiles all the time. "That would be something for our son, should I just ask her for her cell phone number?"
My future daughter-in-law
I ignore my husband's "Now she's completely crazy" facial expression, we order, I pretend to listen to his reflections on the desolate state of world politics and watch her, my future daughter-in-law, perhaps. I'm excited. How skilfully she moves between the narrow tables, balancing full piles of plates, pouring drinks.
I discreetly pull out my cell phone and take a picture. And send a "see who your mother found for you" message to my son. Seconds later the answer comes: "Are you spinning now? Woe, you give her my number!" "Please put your cell phone away," says my husband, "your behavior is marginal. It's good that nobody saw you except me."
He's right. My son is in his mid-20s, so he actually grew up. He no longer lives at home, he only brings his laundry with him occasionally, and there are also months when I am not his wallet on two legs.
My son – first single
He looks good, his beard too, he's funny, smart, an interesting conversation partner. But he still doesn't have a happy hand with women, I think. He has a soft spot for very pretty, but immature girls who pour him digital hearts to make a scene of him if he doesn't respond immediately. He drags on one complicated bit after another, sometimes he breaks up, sometimes she, it's just one drama. At the moment he is "so fed up" that he wants to stay single for now.
It is not in my sense. He is young, his testosterone is not yet a thin trickle, so I immediately notice when he has a girlfriend. Then he is much more balanced, does regular sport, no longer sucks with his buddies, relationships are just good for him. When you are relaxed.
I know exactly which woman would finally make him happy, after all, I've known him all his life. He is the best son in the world, but also chaotic, unpunctual and sometimes a little underpowered. I dragged him through high school, I'm longing to resign. It would be a dream to have a young, down-to-earth, practical woman who lovingly steams him, takes his moods with humor and is, of course, fond of children. After all, I'm not getting any younger and would like to have grandchildren. Unfortunately, I am far from that. My son recently broke up with his last girlfriend because she had a snoring dachshund sleeping in her bed. Too bad, she was a single parent, patent and had a very cute two-year-old daughter.
Marriage like in India
In order to avoid such mishaps in the future, I am in favor of the arranged marriage that is common in India. Appetite comes with eating, why shouldn't affection after the wedding night be just as possible? Every second so-called love marriage fails in Germany, so why can't the younger ones benefit from the wisdom of the older ones? And my son from his mother's rich relationship experience? We now leave aside the fact that I married for love and was not married by my parents.
However, I am reluctant to give direct advice on establishing relationships. My work is more subtle. Fortunately, the son lives nearby and often comes by. If I know that my neighbor's lovely daughter is off for the semester and is home alone, then I need a light bulb, some sugar, a plaster, and ask him to ring the bell. Because he's a nice guy, he rings the bell too. Unfortunately, the neighbor daughter's new friend was there last time.
So I asked the young fitness trainer who explained the new equipment in the club to me: "Do you live around here?" She nodded and I went on: "Alone – or …?" "No, with my friend," she said. Damn.
I inherited the dome gene
Incidentally, I went back to my favorite restaurant with the son a few days later. He had long forgotten that I had proposed the waitress to him. Which happened to be responsible for us. "What can I do for you?" She asked, smiling. She looked biting. My son was typing on his cell phone and didn't look up. "Do you know what you want?" I asked, nudging him under the table, he muttered: "Schnitzel." "The big one or the small one?" The waitress asked. "Put your cell phone away!" I snapped. He frowned. "The big one," he replied. "So what do you think of her?" I blurted out when she was gone. "Your behavior as a mother is just the bottom drawer, give it up," he said and went back to his cell phone.
A setback, but I'm staying active. I have inherited the dome gene and cannot help it. If I hadn't become a journalist, I would have opened a marriage institute. Only it would probably be bankrupt long ago, because I clutch with my heart, but mostly without success. The dinner that I then arranged for a friend and a widowed colleague, both bookworms and active in environmental protection, ended with two outraged calls of congruent content: "How did you get the idea to couple me up with this boring / horrifying screw?" My only success so far has been more of a coincidence: I recommended a friend for a liposuction to a doctor whom I had interviewed shortly before. Without a couple's intent. The two are now a happy couple.
My son has now forbidden my attempts to couple him up. Unless I could introduce him to the television presenter who lives a few blocks away and is his dream woman. Ha, but not mine! Too inconsistent in relationships, new men all the time! I also met her at the supermarket, around 10 a.m. on high heels. I am suspicious!
But the student who has recently started working as a cashier at the drugstore around the corner – brown googly eyes and so funny that there is always a long line in front of her till because everyone wants to pay with her – I will ask where she lives and whether alone. It would be laughed!
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