Jen

My mom thinks I am dating a rapper.

Yesterday, my mom called me at work. We were taking about the usual stuff and then mom asked me how Pat was doing. I told her he was busy with school because of finals, blah, blah, blah, and then it happened. Here is a replay of the conversation, as close to reality as possible:

Mom: Isn’t he (Pat) busy with the band, too?
Me: I told you three million times, he isn’t playing with a band right now.
Mom: Oh, no more rapping?
Me: What?
Mom: He doesn’t rap anymore?
Me: Rap?
Mom: Yeah.
Me: Like in presents? (I only said this because I didn’t think my mom would think Pat was a rapper)
Mom: No, like rap.
Me: Like Vanilla Ice? (One again, I only used this reference, because he was the most popular white rapper that I thought my mom might know about)
Mom: Who?
Me: Ummm…. Eminem?
Mom: Yeah, like Eminem!
Me: Mom, Pat does not rap. Where in the world would you get an idea like that?
Mom: He told Ted.
Me: I am absolutely positive that Pat did not tell Ted that he raps. He’s a drummer, for Christ’s sake. I’ve told you this.

Ok, so the conversation goes on for awhile like this, and I try to trace where this idea must have surfaced. So, I called Pat and asked him what he was taking to Ted about on Easter. Ted and Pat had a conversation about vinyl and music. So, I called back home later yesterday eve and it turns out that they were talking about Pat’s very large vinyl collection and that he likes to spin. Then Pat said that the bands that we listen to usually put out vinyl along with CD’s. So, Ted asked Pat what kind of band he was in before and Pat, to make it easier for the parents to get, said a rock band. Ted heard “Rap band.” He figured this made sense because Pat likes to “spin” and DJ, two things associated with rap in the mind of parents.

Ted told my mom and my mom said, “that makes sense, look at all the earrings he has (two in one ear) and the clothes he wears (emo kid, but my mom thinks this is the clothes of a rapper. Go figure.)”

The conversation ended this way last night:

Mom: Well, that’s a load off my mind.
Me: Why would that even be a load in the first place?
Mom: I don’t like rap. If I ever had to see Pat rap, I wouldn’t know what to tell him because I wouldn’t want to be mean, so I’d have to tell him I liked it.

That’s my sweet mom. Always worried about people’s feelings, even if the situation would never happen.