Deal Breaker #17 Geographically Challenged…

It’s that time again to discuss unlikely deal breakers. I will admit that some of them are ridiculous, but it’s my life (and I’m getting older and set in my ways). Plus, I have had a rash of incidences that have made me focus and get serious about what I can and can not deal with.

Everyone knows that a man being geographically undesirable can be a deal breaker. One who is geographically undesireable generally leaves states away in a far off distant land. I myself have imposed this rule, which has impacted me deeply because some people I have been really fond of were ruled out because they lived outside the state. Some really heart my heart, but I would rather be alone than suffer the pangs of loneliness caused by someone not being around when I want them to be. I’ve been in long distance relationships, so I’ve dealt with that type of loneliness and it can get ugly.

However, today I have a new deal breaker that falls in the geography category. This one I will call Geographically Challenged. These are people who live a distance that is farther than you want to travel. To be honest I don’t want to travel more than 10 miles to go anywhere, is that 15 minutes? Whatever it is mileage wise I know that I don’t want to be in a car for more than 15 minutes traveling to see a beau. And it’s not the gas, it’s the distance.

Anyone who knows me knows I do not like to drive. It’s an evil part of adulthood that I unfortunately have to suffer through now. One day I will have a driver to take me everywhere I need to go. Until then I keep my driving to the minimum. All the essential trips that I have to take are no more than 15 minutes from my house, including my mother’s house.

So why does fate keep sending me people who leave FAR away from me?  Crazy places that are outside of the perimeter and take a minimum of 30 minutes of travel time. I would love to find someone who lives in my neighborhood, but people are moving farther out to outlandish places that might as well be another state. I understand you can get more house for your money, but fiscal responsibility sometimes leads to ridiculous drive times.

What is crazy about this problem is that it’s not something that I immediately know, but will soon start asking. The drive time initially isn’t a problem because on the first few dates I always meet my date out. I generally don’t like for people to know where I live, so once I get comfortable I will generally venture out to the perspective beau’s house. This is when things get ugly, or at least recently. I had to tell one guy that he had to meet me somewhere in the middle. Another perspective I told flat out you live too far this is not going to work. I know that relationships are a two way street and if I am not willing to make the commute I can’t commit.

Jaw Breakers or the unlikely Deal Breaker…

Women often talk about what type of man they can’t deal with like dead beat dads, baby mama drama, moochers, average joe’s who possess no real ambition, men who can’t hold a stimulating conversation, and generally the most widely accepted deal breaker, the man that lives with his Mother. That has to be the scariest of them all especially if he a mama’s boy or if he is just not tending to his business. What other deal breakers are scarier? Hmmm…


I stumbled across a rare gem of a guy completely by accident. He is interesting and nice, and while that’s easy he has also managed to be witty, super cool but a little dorky, impart a lot of random but useful advice, and he is into the same kind of music that I am which is wild because I have a very eclectic musical taste. I’m admittedly a little to the left…it’s just how I roll, but we are so on the same frequency.  When I realized that he was right along side me leaning to the left it made me grin really, really hard. When he invited me to his house I was excited like a little kid on their way to six flags. I was very curious about his house and how he lived. I had in my head what his house probably looked like, but it’s much better to be able to see the actual pile of bricks.


His place was actually quite different from what I imagined. It was very nice, neat and well appointed, but I was expecting it to be more comfy and inviting with a slightly artistic flair. Not overly coordinated décor, bric-a-brac and scenes from a JCPenney catalog (not to say that there is anything wrong with penney’s I love that place). He had a fireplace, but he never burned it so it dashed my dreams of playing scrabble in front of a warm crackling hearth.


He and I are both movie buffs so he had planned for us to watch movies. That would have been perfect any other time, but I wanted to watch the Grammys. He did make fun of me for being into the pop culture mainstream, but I can’t help myself I love award shows.  He made fun of everything especially the Jonas brother’s performance with Stevie Wonder and MIA’s polka dot rompered-out performance with the rap pack. You gotta love a woman who wants to get her swagger on while literally about to pop and give birth. He offered me some alcohol, which I didn’t turn down, so I was feeling all warm and fuzzy. It was in this slightly tipsy state, while enjoying the musical performances and his Grammy commentary that I hear the creak of a door opening and the shuffling of feet. I gasp, jump closer to him on the couch and look in the direction of the noise.“What was that?” I whisper while clutching my chest. As far as I was concerned there was an intruder in the house on their way up the stairs to get me.


He looked back nonchalantly, “Oh that’s my Mom.”


The shuffles were coming up the stairs and I looked back to see the top of a head ascend the stairs. When she got to the top she said “Hello.”


I half said as a statement and a question “Hello.?” I looked down at him and back at his mother’s retreating back. “You live with your mother?”


He chuckled. “No. My Mother lives with me.” My jaw dropped a bit. Well that explained the décor, but he said his mother lived with him like this was standard. As if everyone’s mother was just chilling at the crib.


“You look puzzled.” He said and rubbed my leg.


I looked over at him, but I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think of anything appropriate and I didn’t feel comfortable asking why his mother lived with him. So I smiled weakly and replied “She just scared me that’s all.”


I turned back to look at the television and to re-evaluate this man. I’m not sure what would have been the proper response to his statement. That’s his mama and his business, but I couldn’t help but feel weird and unsettled.


I have never encountered this scenario, shoot I’ve never encountered a man living WITH his mother either. And No, technically he doesn’t live with his mother, but I don’t think I can deal with a mother. I don’t feel comfortable that at any given moment his mother might pop up, which might be good because it would definitely make me behave. It’s like we are teenagers and have a chaperone. Although that heightened the fun of fooling around when I was seventeen it doesn’t get me going now. I know I won’t feel free to express myself. I wouldn’t want to be loud or make too much noise, she might be trying to sleep. I don’t curse much, but I definitely don’t want to say anything off color around (or in earshot of) an elder since I don’t think it’s respectful. It’s just too much to manage with a parent around, an aunt or an uncle maybe, but not a Mama. I don’t want to feel inhibited, it’s too much pressure.


Just like I can’t deal with a man who lives with his mama, I can’t deal with a man whose mother lives with him.