Last Saturday, when you decided to spend the weekend visiting your grandparents, your 88-year-old grandma capitalized on the opportunity to remind you that Grandpa was “one of many suitors.”
The announcement came first thing in the morning as you sat down to breakfast with Grandma.
“So, do you have a boyfriend?” asked Grandma as you took your first sip of coffee.
You reportedly responded that you do not have a boyfriend because you are very busy with work right now, even though you are not busy with work at all and actually just didn’t know how to explain that you’ve been sort of hooking up with commitment-phobe Jason and it’s a thing, but not, like, a thing.
Grandma quickly turned the conversation toward the numerous courtships of her youth.
“Oh, I had many, many handsome suitors in those days,” said Grandma, who then showed you a picture of how hot she was in the 1950s for context.
“I used to love going dancing,” Grandma continued. “I’d go dancing with Alfred Callahan. He was so handsome. He’d always try to trick me into kissing him, but I wasn’t like those loose O’Hare girls across the street.”
Despite Grandma’s casual slut-shaming of her old neighbors and worrisome mention of sexual trickery, you felt somewhat bitter since the last man you danced with was a stranger at a Diplo concert who started grinding on you prior to your consent or you seeing his face.
“I had my first marriage proposal when I was 16!” Grandma reminded you. “All those boys had just gotten back from the war, and they were ready to settle down and provide for a family.”
Meanwhile, your ex made you pay half a standard monthly rate to use his parents’ Netflix.
“I was so flooded with options, but I chose your grandfather because he was the most patient and the kindest of them all,” Grandma relentlessly bragged.
When reached for comment, you were understandably conflicted.
“I’m happy that our society is moving away from traditional gender roles,” you said. “But all of the men in my life still suck and none of them have defeated the Nazis or want to marry me.”
Seeing you were upset, Grandma tried to comfort you.
“There, there, dear, I’m sure you’ll find a husband by the end of your 20s,” she said, apparently forgetting that you’re pushing 33.
