Mother of the Groom: A Love Story


Nine years ago, I swore it could never happen. I would have wagered my life’s savings (okay, so it’s not that much, but still…) that my eldest son (by five minutes—he’s a twin) would NEVER get married. Now, the date is set. Just two days ago, I went shopping with my daughter and the bride-to-be to buy my mother-of-the-groom dress.

Never say never.

“Julian” (not his real name) was living with us after a number of unsuccessful stints along the East Coast. A few years in Florida with his older sister. A few years in Virginia with his older half-brother. Back to Florida for a very short time. Finally, he came north, bitching and moaning the entire way.

I helped him establish a career in a new field (YES, I’m taking credit for that!) and he lived with us, my husband and me, for about eight years. The honeymoon stage didn’t last long. For the first six months, he never complained about mowing the lawn and shoveling snow. We played Monopoly. We were the Hallmark-quality, perfect family.

Reality rapidly took hold.

My son was miserable. He was lonely and frustrated, with little self-esteem (hey, I still live with my parents. I’m a loser). He’d been jilted by a bad, bad girl back in Virginia country. To this day, I swear—if I come face to face with her, I’m gonna slap her silly. He swore he’d never marry. Swore he was destined to hunt, and fish, and hang out with his male cousins. He’d die a bachelor. Not a date in sight.

Eventually, he reached a breaking point. He announced he was moving out to be on his own in an apartment, by himself. I encouraged him to go. Make a life.

“Julian” hadn’t been in his fancy new apartment for a month before he started coming home for dinner. For weekend breakfasts. To mow the freaking lawn. Seriously?

He was lonely. A mom knows these things.

“ You don’t drink, so you’re not going to meet any girls in a bar,” I said. “Not that you’d want to meet anyone that way, but . . . well, where else? In the checkout line at Price Chopper?”


“Those dating sites are a scam, Mom.”

A week later, his profile was up, and he had three dates scheduled. I anxiously awaited the results.

All duds.

“Nobody is like me, Mom. I mean, I have two parents who are still married—to each other—after . . . how many years? That’s the kind of girl I’m looking for. Somebody who believes in that. I don’t think they exist anymore.”

“Stay the course, Julian. There’s somebody out there, just waiting for you.”

Date number four was the one.

Parents still married—to each other—after thirty-odd years. Believes in marriage. Believes in monogamy. Believes in true love.

Luckily, this beautiful woman hadn’t found it yet.

Happily Ever After does still exist. I’m quite certain my son has found his forever soulmate. I love her, trust her, and feel completely at ease with her. And I’m pretty sure she will never break my son’s heart.

Disclaimer: if she does, I’ll be forced to kill her. 😉

Romance is not a fantasy. Chivalry is not dead. And dating sites can help (if you’re smart about it) to find the soulmate of your dreams.

So, keep reading those romance novels! Believe in the dream. It may seem like a fantasy to some, but if you stay the course, true love always finds a way.



About Claire Gem

Claire is a multi-published, award winning author of both fiction and nonfiction. A native of New York, USA, she now resides in Massachusetts, USA with her husband of 39 years.
This entry was posted in Cavorting With Claire!, Soul Mate Publishing and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Mother of the Groom: A Love Story

  1. viola62 says:

    I, too, believe in true love and monogamy. My characters find it in the end. I’m glad your son found love through a dating site. I never did, but I did find it in a German social club listening to an Irish inner perform.

  2. viola62 says:

    Yikes! That should be singer!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s