To Grandmother’s House We Go

Posted on May 26, 2012

1


David and I had a great first date. He introduced me to some hidden treasures of the upper east side (a neighborhood I rarely venture up to.) Earl’s was like a pure cheese wonderland: grilled cheese, beer cheese, tomato soup with cheese. Have I mentioned that cheese is the key to my heart? Then we headed over to ABV to cap the night off with a couple glasses of wine. When it was time to call it a night, he asked, “How are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the subway. The 6 train, ” I said.

“Me too!” he said, “But I actually left my gym bag at my grandma’s before coming out, because she lives near here. If you don’t mind stopping with me to pick it up, we can head downtown together.”

“Sounds good.”

“And as an added perk,” he continued, “you’ll get to meet grandma!”

“Grandma’s still awake?” I asked. It was a little after 11.

“She likes to stay up late and watch TV,” he said. “She’ll love you.” He had a point, grandmothers do love me.

We walked the couple blocks to grandma’s building, and David had a key, so lead the way into her apartment. As we were almost through the foyer to turn into the living room, David stopped dead in his tracks and jumped backwards. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “Grandma’s naked.”

“What? Why would she be naked?”

“I don’t know. I guess she was watching TV naked and fell asleep. She must not have thought I was coming back tonight.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “Well grab your stuff and let’s leave!”

“I dont know. I have to go through that room, and I can’t tell if she’s sleeping, or just watching tv,” he said. “I don’t want to embarrass her! Will you look?”

So I did. I stood in the doorway to the living room to try to get a glimpse of grandma, and there she was, in her birthday suit, smiling and waving at me. What’s a girl to do except wave back?

“She’s awake,” I announced as I stepped back into the foyer, barely able to maintain composure.

“I can’t believe you just stepped over there!” he said. “I thought you would at least peak around the corner slyly.”

Now I was just straight up laughing. “I thought she was sleeping. I didn’t think I needed to hide!”

“Wait here,” he said as he walked through the living room. After brief hellos to his grandma with no mention of the obvious lack of clothing, he was back and we were ready to go. Should I wave goodbye to naked grandma? I decided against it, and we headed out.

At least he had a good sense of humor about the whole thing, and we joked about it the whole way to the subway.

We ended up getting on the same train car as a bunch of twenty-something’s who seemed to really enjoy screaming at each other in French. They were clearly in party mode, and David and I exchanged wary glances as they danced throughout the train. Before long, one of the guys had wandered over to near where we were sitting, and with an exclamation of “America is crazy!” sat down on the floor right in front of us. He then launched into the tale in broken English of how he and his friends come to be in the US, partying on a Monday night. Then he started asking us questions about our lives here: Did we always stay out partying all night? Did we just love the club scene? David and I indulged his questions, and we all started to chat about the differences between our two countries.

Then, one of his lady friends came towards us, yelling at her friend in French to stop bothering us. Then, she spotted David and seemed to change her mind. She joined our conversation, and before long we had found out that she was French Moroccan. When David mentioned that he spoke a little Arabic, she didn’t even try to hide her flirting. Nothing like having someone else blatantly hit on your date in front of you. Did she not see me sitting right there? Before I had time to contemplate how to steal him back, we were approaching my stop. I gave David a hug and said quick goodbyes to our new friends. The girl didn’t even wait until I was off the train to park herself in my seat and stroke David’s arm. Pulling a robbery on the 6 train—classy.

David texted me about twenty minutes later to say she had asked him to come to a club with her, but he had turned her down. “Grandma would not have approved,” he said. Honestly, I’m not even mad that she tried to steal my man. After all, I know better than anyone that a good guy is hard to find.

—Raz, 25, NYC

Advertisements
Posted in: My Stories