He Was Angry About What Happened When I Met His Mother

I think she was the one to blame

Claire Franky
5 min readDec 6, 2023


Photo by Mitchel Lensink on Unsplash

His fist pounded against the door as we waited on the overly floral front step. A bright red front door surrounded by pink and blue flowers seemed like an odd choice.

Fucking clown people.

I smoothed my black dress with my hands and tossed my long, dark hair over my shoulder. My feet shuffled nervously in my boots and I bit my lip. I hated meeting mothers.

Footsteps filled the room on the other side of the door before it swung open. In the doorway stood an average-sized woman with long blond hair. The bright pink lipstick that she wore matched her pink shorts, but clashed with the blue tye-dye t-shirt that hung from her shoulders.

Clearly, a unicorn had emptied its balls on her.

Squealing, she grabbed my beloved and pulled him into her arms, continuing to screech as I stood smiling, willing my eyebrows to not give away my thoughts.

When she let go of him, she pulled me in for the same squealy hug. Panicked about how to respond, I made weird throat noises.

Like a turned-on seagull.

Once I was released, she grabbed my hand to lead me down a hallway covered in photographs. No frames, just photographs taped to the walls. Hundreds of them.

You know, in a culty way.

Photographs of people — holidays, sports games and vacations. But mostly, drinking. Raised beer bottles, shot glasses, and pitchers.

Proud moments.

Entering the kitchen, the photographs continued onto the cupboard doors and I knew I wanted to break her camera. Collecting shot glasses from a shelf, she laid them on the countertop before filling them with Fireball. They both grabbed a glass and looked at me expectantly. Wide-eyed, I scooped up the third shot glass and knocked it back.

My throat burned as I placed the glass back on the countertop and glanced around in hope of water. Alas, she began refilling the glasses. My protests fell on deaf ears, as the drink was shoved back into my hand.