My Mom’s Advice to Being Dumped via Text: “You-Should-Freeze-Your-Eggs”

Yesterday my 47-year old mother called to check on how I was doing post-break up text and facebook de-friendment (Yes, the Facebook de-friendment immediately followed the break-up text) I’m pretty sure that movie producers are behind this whole situation: text dumping, Laura’s Cooker-Whore-Lady mantra and now my mother’s advice. …

“How are you doing after your ordeal?” mom asked sympathetically.

“I’m okay, thanks. It just wasn’t working out," I said. "There’s other fish in the sea, right? Anyway, how are you?”

“Well speaking of fish,” my mom started. “I’m going through menopause.”

“But Mom, you’re only 47—“ I said, quickly trying to remember what the normal menopausal age was—55? 65? 77?

“My doctor says that 47 is really young for menopause,” she explained. “It’s a good thing I already had my children.”

“Yeah, 18 is a great age to start bearing children,” I teased. My mom was 18 and 22 when she had us. Later on, my parents adopted two little girls from Russia.

“Sarah, this is genetic,” said mom serisouly. “You should start thinking about freezing your eggs.”

“Very funny mom…” I laughed.

“I’m not joking,” said mom. “You really should be looking into your options.”

“Options? What options?,” I said starting to get upset,”I’m 25-years old. Why would I need to freeze my eggs?”

“Well Sarah, you’re a ‘career woman,’” said mom overly emphasizing ‘career woman,’ as if they were bad words.

“At the rate you’re going, it’s going to be awhile before you have children,” added mom sounding like she was chewing on something.

“Are you eating,?” I asked annoyed.

“Uh huh,” mom answered between bites. “Ice cream cone. Cookie dough.”

“How appropriate—“ I said. “You always told me to have a career and never to settle until I was ready.”

“I know, but things have change,” said mom through ice cream bites, “but I don’t know what to think about your ‘situation.’”

“What situation? Freezing my eggs?,” I asked.

“Sweetie, men are dumping you on text messages and the internet,” said mom as she now was chewing the ice cream cone. “I guess you’ll have to take your chances.”

“A man, not MEN. One MAN broke up with me on text messaging,” I corrected.

“That’s right dear,” my mom said light heartedly. “A 38-year old man broke up with you on your phone. I know it's only one, but didn't that Australian boyfriend break up with you in a McDonald's parking lot? "

"Oh my gosh, why are you bringing THAT up?" I said. "First of all, we were on the phone because he lived in Australia--I had to pull over and it just so happened to be a parking lot. That has absolutely NOTHING to do with this."

"Uh huh," said mom in a condescending 'whatever you say' tone. "You haven't had the best experience with men."

"Thanks for the pep talk," I said sarcastically. "I'll just freeze my eggs and became like that crazy octuplet lady."

"You are wonderful and I love you," mom said. "You just have to be sensible. It wouldn’t hurt to just read about it so you can make an educated decision.”

“Whatever,” I said giving up arguing, "I'm going to get going. Goodnight."

“Wonderful!,” said mom cheerfully. “I’ll get Tashie to email you the information.”

Tashie is my 10-year-old sister.

In response to being dumped via text, my 60-year old Romanian landlord reveals “Top-Secret Ways-To-Keep-My Man” advice

Knock. Knock. 

"Hi Laura," I said. 

"Why you upset?" Laura asked in a heavy Romanian accent.

"Oh, I just had a rough day, my boyfriend broke up with me by sending a text message," I said. "Can you believe that?!" I asked.

"Yes," said Laura firmly.

"What do you mean?," I asked. "You can believe that he dumped me, or that it was through a text message?"

"Both," said Laura firmly.

"Oh, okay. Thanks for you honesty," I said.

"He see you as little girl. A weak little girl with no power. You need to be strong woman," says Laura using little girl facial expressions to describe me.

"Well I'm actually working on that Laura, but thanks for noticing. Good night..." I said starting to close the door. 

"You need to learn to keep your man," advised Laura. "On my wedding night, my great-grandmother told me the secret to keeping your man happy. I will tell you because you are my friend. You don't tell anyone."

"Please enlighten me. At this stage, anything can help," I said. 

"You must be a 'Cooker in the Kitchen, a Whore in the Bedroom and a Lady on the Street,' that's it," says Laura, again using hand demonstrations to describe Cooker, Whore and Lady.

"Laura, I think there's a rap song about this," I said. 

"THIS IS SERIOUS," Laura said sternly. "You must be a man's mom, sister and whore all in one. That's the secret. No more whining." 

"Wow--Laura. Ok, I believe," I said completely trying to recover from the thought of Laura being a whore to her husband. "The relationship wasn't working out anyway, its fine. I'm just perplexed with the whole text message. Thank you for your advice."

"You are welcome. You are my friend and I share this advice from my country," said Laura proudly. "Remember: Cooker, Whore, and Lady. No more little whiney girl. Powerful woman. That's all you must know."

"Got it, I'll work on it," I promised. "Goodnight Laura."

"One more thing," interjects Laura. "Stop crying over him. I can tell when you cry because you look awful. Puffy eyes and red face."

"Laura...I wasn't crying," I said very confused. "I was watching American Idol. This is just how I look."

"Oh no," gasps Laura covering her mouth and suddenly turns to walk away.