Drunk Mom Seduces Son

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Drunk Mom Seduces Son
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Anne Bardsley May 26, 2015 27461 views
How I Got Drunk With My Son’s Friend was last modified: May 25th, 2015 by Anne Bardsley

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Or…. Me, Matt, the Cat and the Watermelon
One hot summer afternoon I came home to find my son’s friend, Matt, sitting on our front porch. I invited him in so he didn’t melt in the heat. Justin would be home shortly. I offered him a glass of iced tea. Like a good hostess, I added fresh lemon and a sprig of something green to impress him.
Mrs. B, he asked, “Do you mind if I have a piece of that watermelon in the fridge?”
“Sure, Matt. I’ll cut you a piece. I think there must have been a bad spot because someone cut a piece off the top.” I got the knife and cut Matt a big slice. It looked so refreshing. He suggested I have one too. In fact, he cut it for me. I was going to call his mom and tell her what a nice young man she’d raised.
We sat and slurped down this delicious watermelon. We both agreed it was the sweetest we’ve EVER had. Matt suggested we have another piece while he waited for Justin. I agreed. I was starting to chill from a hectic day and this watermelon was just what I needed to unwind. Matt offered to get up and cut it for me. What a nice kid! I was feeling sentimental that college was starting in a few months and I wouldn’t see him and the other kids for a while.
I told Matt he would be a great waiter for a summer job. “Thanks, Mrs. B and you don’t have to leave me a tip.” he chuckled.
Our cat, appropriately named Kitty, started to scratch at my legs for a treat. I gave her a small piece of the melon. She rolled over and played with it like catnip. 
By now, Matt and I were discussing life. “How’s your girlfriend?”
“Did you hear what happened to Jill? She cheated on Marty.”
“Oh No! That tramp!” I yelled. I wasn’t sure where that came from because I actually like Jill.
“I’m not sure she’s a tramp, Mrs. B,” Matt defended her. “Oh! You are so naïve, Matt!”
“Matt, sometimes pretty girls can be tramps. It’s deceiving because you expect tramps to have a cigarette hanging out of their mouth and their hair all teased up.”
I told Matt he was very naïve again. I think I said it three more times. I liked the way it rolled off my tongue.
“Matt, let’s have one more piece of melon before Justin gets home. Give Kitty that little piece on your plate. She loves this stuff!”
Half an hour later, Justin arrived home. Matt, the cat and I had eaten half of the watermelon.
“Hey Justin, want some watermelon before your mom eats it all?” Matt asked
“Hey! I yelled. Lighten up! It’s a fruit! It’s healthy! It’s a bleeping fruit! (hiccup).”
Justin gave Matt a dirty look and said, “You know what’s in the melon right?”
I said, “Of course, seeds…we’re spitting them out.” I spit one his way.
I suggested Justin help us finish off this incredibly refreshing and delicious melon quickly because I was feeling very sleepy. Kitty was too. She fell asleep sitting up at my feet.
When my daughters arrived home they were angry that the watermelon was almost gone. Since when did my kids like fruit so much? “Who ate the watermelon?” they demanded.
I grinned and announced that “Me, Matt and the cat did.” I grinned at them and hiccuped. “It was delishioushhh. Have shome…it’s verrrrry nutrishish for you. Watch for the sheeds. Justin says they’re in there.”
“Ooops here comes one now!” I spit one in their direction and laughed uncontrollably. I was having so much fun chilling with my kids, Matt and the cat.
My husband, Scott, arrived home to find me and the cat sound asleep on the couch.
“Have you been drinking?” he asked. He stared at me as I tried to upright myself.
“No! I had watermelon with Matt and the cat. Don’t be shilly!”
Justin and Matt arrived to confess that the watermelon was the cause of my exhaustion. Matt took the blame. That’s when I learned that the hole in the watermelon was not a bad spot. It was a hole to pour vodka into in my refreshing, delicious watermelon. Kitty hiccupped.
I certainly didn't think he was dangerous... he never acted dangerous.
Holding hands in the courtyard of a rest home and letting Dad talk about flying an F85, even though he had never been in the war, led to a ride home full of tears.
As I was fighting for my financial security and trying to think logically, I cried. I cried in the car....
Anne Bardsley of St Pete Florida, is the author of "How I Earned MY Wrinkles...Musings on Marriage, Motherhood, and Menopause", a collection of humorous and sentimental stories about marriage, motherhood and menopause. It is available on Amazon . com . When people ask her age, sometimes she tells them her bra size. “36C was a wonderful age.”
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I walked into my son’s school a few weeks ago to pick him up. He was sitting with all his friends waiting for me by the door and immediately got up when he saw me coming. Clearly, he didn’t want me coming anywhere near his friends. I got the feeling he didn’t want anyone to know he was with me. I was right.
As he got closer, he whispered, “Mom, why do you have to dress like that? Everyone stares at you.”
“No they don’t. They are probably staring at you because you are so handsome,” I told him.
“I blend in. They aren’t staring at me. They are looking at you. Why do you have to wear dresses and high heels?” For the record, I was wearing the outfit below. The nerve, right?
I decided I wanted to try something with my teenage son that day. I asked him if he wanted to dress me for a little while. I told him he could pick out my outfits and I would wear whatever he wanted me to wear as long as he had an open mind and would listen to a few things I had to say about people and the way they choose to dress, so that’s what we did.
I wanted to talk to him more about the subject and why he was feeling the way he was. And by having him choose my clothes for a while I would better understand why he wanted me to wear certain things, and maybe he would understand why I like to dress the way I do and that, really, it shouldn’t affect him as much as it does.
This was his choice for the first day. He picked out a very casual, sporty outfit, and I loved it.
While I dress like this about half the time and like this look, it doesn’t always suit me. Sometimes I feel like dressing up more, so I do. When I asked my son why he picked this out, he said because I “blended in and didn’t look out of place.” In his mind, when I dress up, I look like I don’t belong. If he only knew how many women I saw throughout the day wearing suits and heels maybe he would have a different opinion.
Regardless, I told him nobody should be judged based on how they dress — not even your very embarrassing mother . Most people wear what they are comfortable in, what makes them feel good. It doesn’t matter where it came from because this isn’t how we judge others. We focus on how they make us feel, if they are kind, how they treat people. I told him judging people for what they wear is very transparent, and he will be missing out on a lot in life if he is going to focus on making friends because of what they wear, what they have, or what they look like.
If he is comfortable dressing in a way that makes him feel like he blends in, I think that is great. However, I want him to have the inner confidence to step out of the box if he wants. If he feels like wearing something, even though none of his peers are, I want him to feel like he can.
I also let him know what someone puts on their body isn’t an invitation, for him or anyone else, ever. And he should always take heed on how he looks at people, especially women. There is a way to look at a woman without staring or gawking. No matter how you see her, she deserves respect. I don’t care what she’s wearing.
I also want my son to realize just because I am a mother it doesn’t mean I have to dress a certain way. I loved the outfits he picked for me, and dress like that on my own accord often. But I also love wearing dresses, heels, skinny jeans, and trying out new trends because that is who I am, and who I was long before I became his mother. It’s not my intention to embarrass him. It is my intention to be myself, and him making comments or telling me he doesn’t want to go anywhere with me because of the way I dress is hurtful (as normal as it is).
A few days ago, I discussed these “lessons” I was trying to teach him with a friend and she told me he would “take all these lessons and bake them into a gentleman pie.” I really hope she is right.

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