The Jewish Mother

            I know people are supposed to be offended by stereotypes, but at a certain point, we all have to admit that they exist for a reason. I have some friends who will like watermelon and fried chicken more than I ever will, some friends who will always be terrible drivers, and Jewish boys will always be obsessed with their mothers.
            Every Jewish mom, aunt, neighbor, or stranger in line behind you at the market thinks you are the perfect match for their son, daughter, niece, stranger they met in line at the market. As young, single Jews, we grow to expect and tentatively accept this as a fact of dating, of life. In the relatively recent past, however, I had the ultimate Jewish dating experience. A Jewish mother…setting me up with her son…via JDate. The message was as follows:

Not Being Weird
The Jewish mother in me just took over, and had to email you because you're adorable and so is my 26 year old son. He's also taking one of the three Jewish paths! 
He's on Facebook, J**** S****. 
Tell him his mom sent you! 
S****

            Just in case you’re paying attention, I am, in fact, not taking one of the three Jewish paths, but we’ll set that aside for the moment. This mother and I spent some time getting to know each other, via JMail of course, and I truly enjoyed talking to her. I couldn’t help but question, however, what a kid would be like who agreed to a date his mother set up for him…via JDate. But then I guess I’d have to question what type of girl I am to agree to a date with a kid whose mother set him up via JDate. And I’m just not prepared to do that.
            Admittedly (and embarrassingly) a little flattered, I agreed to meet her son. She continually insisted I find him on Facebook and reach out to him, to which I kindly and consistently suggested he initiate contact with me instead.
            Jewish mothers always win.
            I sent him a message on Facebook, which he was expecting, and we went out for dinner that weekend. It was great. He was super interesting and I could have listened to a thousand stories about his family, particularly my favorite future mother-in-law. We finished eating and he asked if I wanted to go grab a drink elsewhere. Being the lush that I am, it was not an offer I could turn down.
            We got in his car and headed to a nearby bar.
            “Let’s call my mom.”
            I laughed. “Wait, really?”
            She didn’t answer the first time and he divulged that she doesn’t answer all his calls, due to their quantity. We tried again, succeeded, and the three of us chatted all the way to the bar.
            At the bar, we unknowingly stumbled into a trivia night and decided to play, continuing first-date chatter in between rounds of questions. A music-themed section started and a question came up we couldn’t answer (which isn’t saying much; we weren’t exactly dominating up to that point anyway). Frustrated he should know (he has a family of legit musicians), but didn’t, he decided to call his mother. Granted, she was a professional musician, but his mother nonetheless. Overlooking the fact that this is definitely cheating, I would like to point out that this is now the second time we spoke to his mother on our first date. It was as strange as she was fabulous.
            Another round of beers later, he dropped me off at my car. We did not kiss goodnight. I have not heard from his mother since.