Beware of Matchmaking Mothers

I've yet to meet a mother who didn't want me for her son. Regardless of whether the latter is married or single, young or old, interested or not, their mothers tend to fall in love with me at first sight. I once had a mother ask me to wait for her unborn child to be conceived, born and raised, just so she could claim me as her daughter-in-law. I suggested she adopt an adult for me or introduce me to her brother instead.

The sons, on the other hand, tend to be less eager. In fact, parental adoration often causes a directly-opposite reaction in the offspring. I have found that while boyfriends are delighted when their mothers like me, potential boyfriends find the thought of their mother even knowing I exist (let alone having met me) fairly intimidating. For those who are commitment-phobic, there's the issue of how they could date someone who had already met their mother; and for those with deeply-embedded psychological issues, there is the inevitable angst associated with the fact that their mother could be interpreted as playing a role in their dating lives. And to be honest, without too badly maligning most men I've had the pleasure or displeasure of going on first dates with, I have definitely run the full gamut of commitment-phobic, psychologically-issued men (with or without wonderful moms).

As such, as a matter of rule I try to avoid the parental fix up. Not only have I always firmly resisted attempts on the part of my own parents to introduce me to potential partners, but I only actually fell into the trap of allowing a mother to introduce me to her son once. Once was enough.

One of the reasons I even allowed the fix-up to take place at all was that the potential date's mother is one of the finest women I know. We had an instantaneous click when we met at mutual friends one weekend. In fact, we had more in common than I have with most of my friends – we like the same books, similar music, both love to travel – and I figured the apple probably doesn't fall far from the tree. And to my credit, she never actually told me she'd be fixing me up with her son – she simply gave him my number, and a week after I met his mother, Noam called, introduced himself, and asked if I'd like to meet for a cup of coffee.

My biggest concern with meeting Noam was that his mother is religious and I am far from. I was concerned that I'd meet up with a yarmulke-toting G-d-fearing kosher guy, but I decided to bite the bullet and give it a try anyway. When he arrived to pick me up I was pleasantly surprised. Not only is he secular, but Noam is good-looking, rugged, confident, funny and very smart. I was to learn afterwards that he's also a great cook and a deep thinker who loves animals, is great with children and is comfortable in just about any type of social situation. Our first date lasted a couple of hours, and the conversation ran the full gamut of topics, which we sashayed between with the ease of professional ballroom dance partners.

When Noam invited me to go with him to Jerusalem for our second date, I was delighted. He said that he and his roommate were going to a poetry reading at the Sultan's pool in Jerusalem, and I was excited that after only one date he was already happy to introduce me to his friends. Perhaps for once I'd had the good fortune to meet someone without commitment issues? Or even better, without ANY deep-seated issues at all?

I must admit I raised an eyebrow slightly when I was given the back seat of the car on our way to Jerusalem. But since Noam and his friend had arrived together to fetch me, I realized it was probably not comfortable for him to ask his friend to move to the back of the car. Nevertheless, I also felt it was a little impolite to put your date in the back and your friend in the front. And as the evening progressed, I realized that Noam, in fact, agreed with this.

At the restaurant before the poetry reading, we agreed to split the bill. The second eyebrow joined the first in its raised position when my date paid for himself and his friend, and I paid my own share. But the penny only really dropped when we got to the poetry reading and Noam's 'friend' asked whether I would swap places with Noam, so that he, too, could sit at Noam's side (he was kind enough to allow me to be on the other side).

So on the way back from Jerusalem, from my now-regular back-seat position, I was not really surprised when I saw the roommate's left hand slide across the seats and rest gently on Noam's upper thigh. I also realized that Noam was not as impolite as I'd suspected. In fact, he had placed his date in the front seat, and his friend in the back. He had simply failed to mention to me that I was NOT his date, and that rather than this being an episode of J-Date, I was an extra in a feature edition of 'Gay Date'.

The good news? This story ends happily – Noam's mom has been enlightened as to why she should stop fixing him up, and I got myself a great male friend with impeccable taste who gives me first-rate dating advice. Could a girl ask for more?