Riding In Cars With Boys


It’s official- summer is ending.  I haven’t really felt any humidity for a few days, the AC is officially off… not that I’m a fan of humidity or anything, but is it just me or did this summer go by REALLY FAST?

Now I have to prepare for snow and freezing cold weather- we all know how well that will turn out #CaliGirlForLife.  Bring on the face masks.

At least it’s pretty

When I was younger… before the drama hit the fan and I had to assume a shit ton of responsibility and act like a parent… my mom and I had a very special relationship.

She would excuse me from class so that we could have mother/daughter days.  She used to take me shopping on a biweekly basis.  We would sit and talk for hours about everything going on in my life- I would confide in her about boys, friends, my secrets (not relating to sex OBVS).

My mom was the first person I would tell if I had a new boyfriend.  Of course, our “sharing” had guidelines.

1.  Never ever tell her if I had hooked up/given head/made out shamelessly in my high school boyfriend’s car.

2.  NEVER admit to ditching class as much as I did.

3. And most importantly, never show any weakness if a boyfriend broke up with me and I was sad AKA NO CRYING.

THAT was non-negotiable– because to her, crying over a boy was as bad as killing someone.

She taught me that a boy should never have any “hold” on you- even if you think you love him.  And while I didn’t necessarily buy into that… I wasn’t too open to the idea of letting her know that.

Not allowed

Over the years, our relationship obviously changed.  I stopped confiding in my mother and it wasn’t just because she had issues that I had to take care of… but our relationship transformed for one very specific reasons:

I am not 16 anymore.

If I am dating, she wants to know 1. if I am having sex and 2. if I see a future with that person.

As if you really KNOW after two weeks of dating whether that person is going to be someone you want to be with forever, but for my mother– “time” is irrelevant.  Hala screw two weeks- even after two months.  I like to take things slow, but these thoughts don’t register with my mother and that’s okay…

This is how our Iranian parents are wired.  You say boyfriend and they think future husband?!

I’m in my mid-20s and if there is a guy in my life… my dad jumps up for joy and my mom is already thinking about potential wedding plans and talking babies.  I’m not a kid anymore and while my mom likes to preach “INDEPENDENCE,” deep down she is just excited at the thought of seeing her daughter walk down the aisle.

So I’ve adjusted.

I’ll be honest.  I don’t like answering questions… talking about guys with my parents embarrasses me.  I don’t like talking about feelings, and I have a tendency to turn red and stutter when the guy I like gives me a compliment.

I have so much game, you don’t even know.

Therefore, I don’t tell my parents.  I don’t tell my parents about a first date… or about the boy I like.  I don’t tell them unless the relationship evolves into something serious.  My parents are completely clueless about my love life and I play the card, “Work just takes up too much of my time to date” way too often.

My parents have no idea that I DO like someone.  And they probably won’t for a long time and it’s not because I’m embarrassed about him (because trust me, I’m not).

I really just can’t handle the questions… the constant pressure.

I’d rather sleep than answer questions

When we were younger, we lied to our parents about going to parties and ditching class… in college, we lie about getting high and having hangovers… and in our 20’s, we lie about dating and losing a job.

*Or is that just me? 

It’s the never-ending cycle– I hide from my parents to protect myself and my relationships.  But I also hide from my parents to protect them.  

And I really can’t help but think it’s an age thing.  They would never get so invested in some of the douchebags I’ve dated in the past if they weren’t so hopeful that I wouldn’t end up alone.  In high school, as long as he was a “good boy,” they really didn’t give a f#ck- so what’s changed?

I hate liars, but sometimes I just want to get in the car with the guy I like and have a good time with him without feeling anxiety from the 100 questions my parents asked me beforehand.

Is that really so bad?






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  1. “Because to my mom crying over a boy was as bad as killing someone” LOL my mother is the same way…

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