How My Mom Being On Facebook Is Ruining My Sex Life

Like many folks out there, I'm pretty active on Facebook. And like many active people on Facebook, I'm also "friends" with my mother.

See, that fact alone is still a strange concept to me. Friending your own parents. I suppose I can see how that would be prudent, if they lived out of state. But my mom lives less than five minutes away from me. It's not as if I never see her, or talk to her, or text her. Constantly. Despite this most of us feel obligated to "friend" family members, which can make Facebooking awkward. It's also a drag when it comes to my sex life. Oh, it's possible.

But first, let me attempt to explain the relationship dynamic between my mom and I. For as corny (and even predictable) as this is going to sound, my mom and I have a very Debra Winger/Shirley Maclaine ala 'Terms of Endearment' type of thing going on. She's Shirley because she's nosy, overbearing, and rather grating at times, and I'm Debra because I'm stubborn, awkward, and rather hapless. But here's the difference: my mom attempts to be open-minded and I like to boink. Charming, ain't it?

"But he never Facebooks!"

The above statement is apparently how my mother assesses the guys I communicate with via the social network. She gauges how much I communicate with a man, or "banter", as she calls it, to determine the quality of relationship I have with said-man. For months she was convinced that my friend Matt and I were headed for wedded bliss simply based upon the smartass barbs we exchanged through status updates. "Oh, I just love reading your banter!", she'd moonily sigh. I also made the mistake of telling her that Matt once fixed a few shingles on my roof; that now and forever gave Matt a permanent spot in my mom's mind as "the guy who fixes stuff". Car problem? "Why don't you ask your friend, Matt?" Leaky sink? "Why don't you ask your friend Matt?" Electrical problems, cupboard door unhinged, busted screen door? "Why don't you ask your friend Matt?" You see, not only does this prove that my mom is still pretty old-fashioned when it comes to her thinking (you need a man to fix shit), it also appears as though she sees me as a helpless adultbaby who can change nary a lightbulb without someone (read: a man) to help me. This is not only annoying, but insulting (note: this is how the "mow my lawn!" thing came about). Anyway, she was fairly disappointed when I informed her that, despite our oh-so-hot Facebook bantering and the fact that he stuck a few shingles on my roof, Matt and I were not an item. "Then who is the man you've been seeing?!", she implored.

"Your friend (insert name here)"

She tries, God bless 'er. She really does. She even went as far as applying the ultra-generic "friend" moniker to the guys I date, although I know for a fact that it's as strange and awkward to her as a woman doing her own home repairs. "Are you going out with your friend (insert name here) this weekend?" She knows what "friend" means, and often times will say "Aren't you glad you can't get pregnant?" Um...yuck, mom. Just, yuck. What is it exactly that she thinks I do, or thinks I say when I'm in the middle of a hot bangin'? "OH YES! YES! GIVE IT TO ME, FRIEND! OH GOD! I'M SO GLAD I CAN'T GET KNCOKED UP! THANK-YOU, DR.SCOTT ENLOW FOR THE TUBAL LIGATION! YES! YES! YESSSS!" Yeah, I find the idea funny ha-ha, but at the same time can't help but to feel a little insulted, too. It's as if she thinks my main motivation for making myself sterile is to reap the benefits of man-batter without the hassle of those pesky pregnancies. It should occur to her that maybe I did this because, at the age of 22, I had two children, or because both of those children have varying degrees of autism, thus I already had enough on my plate. I think about these things whenever she notes whichever guy has been "Facebooking" me the most. I wonder if she thinks that he might be a "friend" of mine who released his payload into my barren womb. I think these thing because:

Banter = Sex

At least, that's what my mom equates it to. And what's more, No banter = No Sex. She just can't seem to grasp the notion that I don't have a Facebookin' chummery with every "friend" I've had. Like Nick, for example. "Why doesn't he ever Facebook you?" she asks. When I explain that he doesn't much care for Facebook and is hardly ever on it, she seems genuinely puzzled, and dare I say disturbed. As if not being an active Facebook user is akin to being an unemployed pinko dirtbag who is also riddled with stds. "He never comments on your posts. I'd just like to see him comment on your posts, is all." Jesus God, it's like he's my fucking husband and he never comes to Sunday dinner. "He never eats with the rest of us! Does he think he's too good to eat a meal with this family? Why doesn't he ever come over?" Ugh! This is why I no longer give her the names of the guys I date. I now simply refer to them as "guy". But this has caused other problems, see, because now she's always trying to gues who the guy is.

 Mom: "Is it this William guy?"

Me: "No, mom, William lives in Arizona."

Mom: "Is it this Tom guy? He Facebooks you, sometimes."

Me: "No, mom. It's not Tom."

Mom: "Greg?"

Me: "No."

Mom: "Andy?"

Me: "No."

Mom: "Is it Matt? Oh, no. I don't think it's Matt. You two don't Facebook much, anymore. That's such a shame. I miss reading your banter."

I'm surprised she didn't add a "Aren't you glad he can't ge you pregnant?" for good measure. Oh, but here's the thing: Matt's never been my "friend" friend. My mom finds this unfathomable. You remember why, right? (hint: b=s)

The great thing about being an adult is being able to say, "I'm an adult!" and leave it at that. You cannot be challanged. You cannot be questioned. The paret simpy must acknowledge that indeed, you are in fact an adult, and as such are under no obligation to supply the name of "guy". It's my strongest tie to true liberation.

Despite how this is coming off, this post isn't about me bashing my mother. She's only curious, interested, and concerned. She's from a generation that was in flux, caught between adhering to old-fashioned values vs. embracing the sexual revolution and alternative lifestyles. The end-result being that she's a solid mixture of the two. Puzzled, but genuinely attempting to keep an open mind and even lend support to things she may deem ill-advised. Plus, the woman just really likes Facebook. I guess I can't hold that against her.