Relationships I Have Known

My 16-year-old daughter came through the door in tears the other afternoon. She and her boyfriend had had an argument. “This time it’s serious!” she said. “We may break up!”

Knowing her propensity for the dramatic, I bit my tongue and contemplated my rock and my hard place. If I offer a platitude, she’ll feel invalidated. If I say nothing, she’ll think I don’t care. They’re both still frazzled since their auto accident of the other night, and tensions are running high. I think they’ll be okay; they’ve weathered storms before.

I was about to offer her comfort, when my daughter made this outrageous statement: “Why am I even telling you about this anyway?? You know NOTHING about relationships!” And with a toss of her long black mane, she flitted up the stairs.

I know nothing about relationships ???!! I was speechless. I am, quite possibly, the resident expert on relationships! Besides the obvious wisdom of my age, which hovers slightly above……well, a little northwards of thirty on a good Mary Kay face cream day, I have been married more than 18 years to the same man, have mothered three children, and have a rich variety of friendships. I am The Relationship Queen, to be quite honest. A Highly Relational Sanguine. But mostly, my relationship expertise has to do with the fact that I was an Alpha Omicron Pi. And who knows more about dating relationships, as I believe my daughter was referring to, than a Sorority Girl?

As she stomped up the stairs to her room, I took a quick trip down Memory Lane, stopping specifically at “The College Years; My Social Life As An AOPi.” I thought of the dating stories I could share with my daughter. There was Tyne, a Preppy Fraternity boy and my first heartbreak, who impressed me with his class and style, yet had a shadowy back story that included dealing illegal drugs and armed robbery. There was Liam, a really sweet guy who hovered around for years, his only fault being that he was greatly adored by my mother. The kiss of death for me.

There was Jay, the gorgeous Sacks Fifth Avenue model, who wined and dined me for a few weeks, until he figured out he was gay. And I took it personally and didn’t speak with him for months. And Bill, who’s idea of a great first date was a drive to watch his sister’s high school volleyball game. And my only blind date, a farm boy, who wore overalls to our Fall Informal, mortifying me with his complete lack of sophistication. And Derek the Medical Student, who had a Glaring God Complex. And Mike The Two-Timer, and Vic The Weird, and Bob The Boring……the list goes on and on. I dated quite a lot.

I thought about the dances, the formals, the mixers, the late night fries at the campus Dug-Out. The breakups, when I’d share tears and Doritos with my Sorority Sisters, while burning incense and listening to The Carpenters. "Just like me, they long to be, close to you...."

I thought of my daughter and of the stories I could share with her. But I decided to wait until the age when she needs me to be her friend more than she needs me to be her mother. Right now she’s only sixteen. And believes me to be Complete Moron. But she knows I’m here to listen, if she needs me to.

A few hours later, I watched my daughter and her boyfriend, cute and cuddly on the couch, giggling together over a movie, their argument already forgotten. All was right again in her world. As I knew it would be.