Cold Feet

I’ve had two phone calls and four frantic voicemails from Granny today. Her first date is tonight and she has a severe case of cold feet. The little prima donna is pulling every excuse in the book to try and weasel her way out of it.

First it was work stuff, then it was the restaurant he chose, now she’s moved on to inflicting/making up injuries. “I smashed my foot into my bedroom door, I’m gushing blood between my toes. I should go to the emergency room. This is a gash, kid. I need stitches!” I’m pretty sure she just stubbed her toe.

Her devious behavior reminds me of the desperate excuses I would make to stay home from school on the day of a big test that I wasn’t prepared for. I listened to her whine for a bit then told her to suck it up and pick out an outfit.

She called back, “You won’t believe this,” I already didn’t, “I opened the kitchen cabinet and smashed my nose. Blood. Everywhere. More stitches. I’m going to have a black eye, I know it!”

I wish I could be there with her to calm her down or at least watch the Marx brothers-esque physical comedy that’s occurring in her apartment. I suggested that she was being dramatic which only set her off further. “I need a pep talk! I need support! I don’t want any of your snarky judgments,” she hollered.

She was right. As a granddaughter, friend, and wingman I needed to get on her level, sooth her down then pep her up. I reminded her of all the qualities she liked on his profile; he had a great job, a family man, well read, traveled the world, and he has a boat. Who doesn’t love a boat ride?

The tension in her voice began to soften. “Alright, I’m thinking I’m gonna go casual chic, ya know some cute flat sandals, a pair of capris, and a little top I got from Banana Republic two years ago for 50% off.”  Granny loves a deal, if she got it on sale it’s more valuable than if she paid full price.

I oohed and aahed in support then suggested we choose a mantra for her to chant for confidence. “How about, ‘I’m gonna marry him, I’m gonna marry him,’” she suggested, then burst out laughing.

I’m all about positive thinking but at the same time I think it’s important to manage expectations. I didn’t want to rain on her wedding but I thought it better to stick with a more realistic motto, “How about, ‘The best thing that happens you fall in love, the worst thing that happens we laugh about it after,’” I said.

She thought for a second, I could feel her coming around. “Yeah, yeah, love or laughs, it’s all good stuff,” she repeated it a few times, gaining more confidence with each go. “Alright kid, ya did good.”

I’m fairly confident that as long as she doesn’t slip on banana peel or have an accident with a curling iron, she’ll make it to the restaurant. I’m not sure who I’m more worried about, her or her date.