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I Somehow Made My Hookup’s Parents Think I’m His Girlfriend

Parents

Tailgating at my school is unfortunately not a big thing. The students at my small liberal arts school are too busy studying and freaking out about using everyone’s correct pronouns to go to a football game, let alone wake up on a Saturday morning and day drink in a parking lot. This being the case and me being an avid college football fan, I occasionally attend the tailgate put on by the parents and families of the football players. I go with my close friend who is dating a player so it’s not SUPER psycho or inappropriate for me to be there. Plus I find it fun to see my friend’s parents get a little rowdy and to observe the people that managed to raise such manipulative, horny, and atrociously rude (yet still incredibly attractive) young men.

So, I am minding my own business, hanging out at the tailgate, snacking on chips, the usual. I notice a friend, John, and his mother chatting with another football mom so I go over to get say hello before we head to the stadium. I walk away from our harmless interaction but before I can get more than ten steps away, tragedy strikes.

“HEY BRANDON’S GIRLFRIEND!!” rings through the tailgate.

I freeze. Brandon is most definitely NOT my boyfriend. We’ve been fucking sporadically for over a year and can’t stand being around each other unless we’re both horny and drunk. I debate running to my friends but it would be rude to ignore an adult, let alone a good friend’s mother, so I pivot around and make my way back to them.

“You’re gonna give Brandon a stroke if he hears you say that!” I say, trying to make light of the situation.

“Yeah, I’m just teasing her. It’s a running joke!” my friend John chimes in in an attempt to convince the two mothers that Brandon and I are most definitely NOT a couple.

At this point the mystery mother standing and laughing with us takes a moment to introduce herself and she is, you guessed it, Brandon’s mother. Apparently, as I had walked away she noted that I was “cute” and Dan took it upon himself to tell her that I was Brandon’s “friend.” His mother, who was just a leetle bit drunk, then began addressing me as his girlfriend in front of the entire tailgate in order to get my attention.

“Yeah, I don’t think girlfriend is the right word. It takes about 10 beers between the two of us to get to that point,” I say still in shock as they all laugh and I try to play off the whole situation as lightheartedly as I can. By this point Brandon’s father has also introduced himself and takes no spare time in joining the conversation. But, they aren’t buying it, the look in their eyes says it all. The “birth our future grandchildren” vibes are way way wayyyyyy too strong. They were looking at me, judging me, sizing me up for their son, but also lowkey beaming with delight as visions of weddings and babies danced in their heads.

“Are you heading over to the stadium? Why don’t you walk over with us?” his father asks.

I am blindsided by his offer. WALK OVER WITH YOU??? What more do I have to say? Your tri-polar son and I are NOT an item. Brandon can’t stand me and if he were to see me walk into the stadium with his PARENTS, he might actually kill me. Since I’m not a complete psychopath, I politely decline the offer saying that I’m waiting on some friends. When I finally make it to my seat with my girl gang in tow, I waste no time finding them in the stands. I’m sitting in the third row, they are one section over but higher up. And I can feel them looking at me. I casually glance around periodically to see if they’re looking and awkwardly catch his mom’s eye not once, but twice. I am not making it seem like we’re not a couple by acting this freaked.

Fast forward to the end of the game, Brandon has come back out of the locker room and is with his parents on the sidelines. I start weaving through the crowd of players and their families as I make my way home. Brandon’s father catches my eye as I get closer to them and gives me a slight wave. Yikes. I am not about to let Brandon think that I was responsible for any of this. I walk right up to him and his family, a sarcastically overeager grin on my face.

“Brandon! I see you’ve met my two new best friends!” as I notion to his mother and father. “Just remember, anything you hear came from John’s mom, not me!”

“Yeah, yeah I forgot she was around this weekend,” he mutters back.

“Now, now settle down we all left high school a number of years ago,” his father interjects, picking up on the tension and the immaturity of this entire situation.

“Did we though?” I ask as my final parting words.

I head home, laughing to myself and smiling because I know just how annoyed Brandon is with the whole situation. He’s a little embarrassed, incredibly annoyed, maybe even a little angry. And nothing makes me happier than grinding his gears… except maybe grinding on him.

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madifree

Madi is a spray tan aficionado who started drinking La Croix before it was cool. She takes way too much pride in her finsta and will definitely tell you if that dress makes you look fat. Her spirit animal is Barbie and when she's not writing for TSM you can find her struggling through classes at her quaint liberal arts college while secretly wishing she was pursuing an MRS degree at a big state school.

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