Mom's Dating App Debachle

Under the pale neon of Mitchel's bar sign, Trish looked sickly. Her face was washed in blue light that stretched out the lines on the woman's defeated expression. She groaned in Mitchel's arms as he moved her. Her body strained to keep up with his motions.

"you make me shick." Trish slurred.

"Lady, I'm just tryin' to walk you to your son's car." Mitchel replied while he dragged the middle-aged woman through the gravel parking lot.

Ryan, Trish's son, watched the scene from behind the wheel of his car. He was too embarrassed to get out and help. The shame of seeing his mom dragged like a rag-doll was compounded by the fact that this was his third trip to the bar this week. It was to the point now where Ryan recognized Mitchel's number when he called.

"I'm so sorry, man." Ryan said, after he leaned over and opened the passenger door for the pair.

"Don't sweat it, kid. My first divorce did a number on me, too." The bar owner half-grunted.

He placed Trish down in her seat and Ryan buckled her in place. There was a moment of silence while Mitchel wiped the sweat from his receding hairline with the back of his thick arm. Off in the distance a beer bottle shattered as it was thrown into the dumpster behind the bar.

"Will it get better?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Mitchel replied, his hand now on the top of the car door. "Give her some time, she'll snap out of it. Now get her to bed before she pukes all over your civic."

Ryan nodded and started up the car. Mitchel was half way back to the bar by the time the small vehicle left the parking lot. The journey was almost one of muscle memory after tonight. Two nights ago, Ryan had to use the GPS app on his phone.

Now he let his mind wander while he navigated back to the other end of town.

He thought about his mom, mostly. She aged exponentially by the day now that she had the stress of the divorce looming over her head. Her days were spent crying and pleading and stressing over how she would make ends meet. Her nights? Ryan glanced over at his mother's slumped form. Her soft snores matched the rhythmic heave of her chest. She shifted down in her seat, which forced her short dress to hike up her thighs. This exposed far more of her legs than Ryan meant to see. He looked back at the road, his cheeks suddenly hot.

"Your dad usedta like me in this dress." Trish slurred.

"You look pretty in it." Ryan replied, his cheeks burning hotter.

"I had to stop wearing panties with this dress," Trish turned in the chair and studied her son's expression with blurry eyes. "Now... I don't know, Ry."

Ryan said nothing after that.

***

The next few days came and went with little incident. Trish remained relatively sober, opting to grab a bottle or two of wine from the store after work, as opposed to downing a half-gallon of cosmos at Mitchel's. Work helped keep things normal. Trish would busy herself with the ins and outs of the job to shut her brain off while in public. Still, she made time daily to cry in the restroom. She would sit in the stall and sob silently into her hands. It happened as quick as a storm on a summer afternoon and ended just as fast. When her tears dried, Trish would reapply her makeup and go back to work.

Evenings were the hard part. The prolonged solitude of a silent home illustrated the absence of domestic purpose. Trish was by no means a traditionalist when it came to marriage, but with no husband and Ryan spending all his time with college or friends, Trish found little for herself to do at the house. Little to do, except chug zinfandel and work up the courage to make a dating profile. One week to the day since her last bar trip, she finally downloaded an app and made a profile.

"Make a profile name," Trish read aloud while she contemplated what to call herself. "Trishalicious? Ew, no. Mama Cakes. Gross. Ms. Trisha, nope. Zin!"

It was an easy choice once she looked at the bottle of wine beside her. Trisha entered the information into her new profile. She decided - for better or worse - to be as honest as possible. Most of it was simple; she was 44, divorced, and lived in Peterslick, TN. Her photos would give her physical description for her, but there was still the matter of writing a short bio. For that she needed a fresh glass of wine.

"And finished." Trish said, one bottle and three attempts at a bio later. "Watch out, fellas, Trish is on the hunt."

She giggled to herself as she acclimated to the dating app. Soon enough she was swiping through profiles of men her age in the area. There were a grand total of fourteen, most of whom Trish knew well enough to avoid. She widened her search to men ages 18-60. After a dozen or so profiles she stopped reading the names.

The photos told her all she wanted to know and after swiping another few profiles, she clicked on one.

He was a fireman, cliché sure, but his shirtless pics sparked a smoldering fire in

Trish's stomach. Each photo was better than the last, and nearly all showed off the man's muscled chest. Trish guided her fingers down the front of her pajama pants while the other hand continued to swipe through photos. Her imagination ran rampant with pent up desire.

She imagined the two of them alone in the garage of a firehouse. He held her while she ran her nails along those over-developed muscles. Trish wanted this stranger to bury his face in her neck, she wanted to feel the stubble on his chin graze her skin as he kissed up and down her body. She wanted his strong hands to push her onto the bumper of the nearest firetruck. She needed a pair of thick fingers spread her legs and douse the fire that was burning in between her thighs with his...

"Mom, I'm home." Ryan called from the kitchen.

Trish was yanked from her fantasy far too soon. She fumbled with her phone screen and withdrew her sopping fingers from her pajamas. She cleared her throat and called out to Ryan, "Hi honey. Why are you home?"

Ryan's footsteps grew louder as he walked toward the source of his mother's flustered voice. Trish caught her breath and straightened the area around her in an attempt to regain her composure. Ryan stepped into the room and Trish stood to meet him, wobbling a bit as she did.

"What are you up to?" Ryan asked.

He wrapped his arms around Trish and gave her a tight hug and a quick peck on the cheek. She felt her son's stubble on her face and instinctively let out a small whimper. There were other reactions, too. Her nipples stiffened and there was a fresh flame between her legs. Ryan pulled away from the hug when he heard the noise.

"I'm fine," Trish lied. "You just squeezed me too hard. That's all."

The night fizzled from there. Ryan helped clean up after his mom, taking the bottles to the recycling and wiping the coffee table down so that the wine rings wouldn't leave stains. Trish excused herself and retired to her room where she showered and crawled in bed. She dozed off trying to understand why her body had reacted that way to her son.

***

The following day, Ryan found himself bored between classes. His biology professor cancelled their lesson for the day which gave Ryan an hour to do nothing. After grabbing a bite to eat, he headed to the library and found a quiet spot to relax. After a few moments he pulled out his phone and went through the motions. He bounced from his texts to his email, then to his dating app. He had some new matches, most were girls from his college. None of them sparked his interest that morning. With a half hour left to until his next class, he browsed through the newest profiles in his area, he even found a few he liked. Feeling bold and with a little time left to kill, he sent a private message to one profile. After that, he went about his day.

Mid way through his last class, Ryan played on his phone. He text his friends about weekend plan. He checked his email, nothing but spam. Then he popped open the dating app. To his surprise, he had one new message with a picture attached. He read the message first.

You're pretty fine yourself! If you're free, I'd love to show you what an experienced woman can do... Here's a little something to help you decide.

~Love, Zin~

Beneath the message was the image. It was a bathroom selfie that looked as if it were taken wherever Zin worked. Ryan used his fingers to zoom in on the body in the photo. Her face was obscured by the flash of the phone's camera, but Ryan was more interested in her body anyway. Zin had her blouse pulled up and her bra pushed down so that her round breasts were on full display. This woman was thick in all the right places, filling out her black skirt with a set of hips Ryan could practically feel in his fingers as he inspected the photo.

Ryan closed out of the picture and sent a quick reply back to Zin. He tried to sound mature and casual in his message and not like a horny college boy ready to explode. He hit send and slipped the phone back into his pocket. His fingers trembled as they gripped his pen in his hand and doodled in his notebook. Zin was the only thing on his mind now.

***

"Holy shit, Sarah." Trish said, sliding out of from her desk and wheeling her chair to the cubicle next to her. "Look! He wrote back."

Sarah was Trish's work friend. A tall, thin woman about three or four years younger than Trish. She wore her blonde hair in a tight ponytail that swayed as she leaned back to look at the message on Trish's phone. As she read it, her eyebrows arched and she pursed her ruby lips into a smile.

"Girl, you're getting some dick tonight." Sarah said.

Trish's eyes went wide, "What?"

"Yeah," Sarah replied, pointing to the message. "He said he's free tonight for drinks."

"That doesn't mean anything. He just wants to meet and make sure I'm not insane. We can go to Mitchel's, have a few cocktails and see what happens."

Sarah cocked her head to the side with a disapproving look, "You can't take him to the bar where you get sloppy drunk on the regular. Invite him to your place for dinner."

"What about Ryan? I don't want him to see me... you know."

"What? You want me to keep Ryan busy all night for you?" Sarah asked, a mischievous smile on her face. "He's a hottie, I don't mind. I'll make sure he's too worn out to get back home before noon tomorrow."

That was an idea, but one Trish was resistant to. The thought of Sarah and Ryan together made her hands clench. She wasn't a fan of it, or the mental images it conjured. She pictured Ryan sitting on Sarah's couch, her blonde ponytail wrapped in his fingers while she bobbed up and down in his lap. Trish knew Sarah's technique, because she talked about her dates constantly. She discussed what her lips and fingers did to a man and she discussed it at length, like a TED talk on head. Trish would never be able to make eye contact with her son or Sarah if she knew any of those details.

"No," Trish blurted, a little too forcefully. Then she took a breath and started again.

"I don't think you'll need to babysit my son for the night. I'll give him some money and explain what's happening. He's a grown up, he'll understand."

Trish scooted her chair back to her desk and invited her suitor over for dinner. She offered to make steak and salad. Ryan always complimented her steak cooking skills and, since she was about to court a man the same age as her son, she might as well stick to what she knew.

His reply came quick. Yes. Trish's stomach exploded in butterflies, which made the rest of the work day a chore to sit through. After work, she ran to the store for dinner supplies and, of course, more wine, then went home to prepare for the date.

She felt like a teenager again. She felt happy.

***

Ryan kicked his shoes off and went straight to his room when he got home. He laid out some fresh clothes on his bed and waited for his mom to get out of the shower.

Zin was going to send her address over once she had her place ready for him, but a small shred of doubt lingered in Ryan's mind that she may end up cancelling on him. He understood. A woman in her position had more to think about, and even more to lose. The shower stopped. Ryan waited until he heard his mom close her bedroom door before he took his turn in the bathroom.

Showered and dressed, Ryan checked his phone. He had a new message and a new photo. The message read, almost ready. Thx for being patient with me. Ryan scrolled down to the image, but before he was able to see it, there was a knock on the door. Ryan flipped his phone over and set it beside him just as Trish walked into his room.

"Hey, mom." Ryan said, his voice cracking.

"Hi, honey." Trish said back.

She looked like she wanted to tell him something, and at first, Ryan was worried that his mother was depressed. He wanted to go on his date, but if his mom needed him, he would stay. As Trish sat on the bed beside him, Ryan noticed his mom was wearing perfume and a dress. She smelled wonderful and looked even better. Sober, made-up, and wearing a flattering red dress. Ryan knew in an instant why his mom needed to talk to him.

"I...um," Trish stammered.

"Have a date, right?" Ryan answered for her. "Mom, that's awesome. I have plans tonight anyway, so I'll be out of your hair."

Ryan put his arm around his mother and hugged her. This was a step in the right direction for her and it did his heart good to see her happy for once. She needed to let loose, she needed to feel worthy of affection. It was also nice to know he wouldn't get a call from the bar this evening asking him to pick his mother up and take her home. That meant he could enjoy himself this evening, too.

"Thanks, Ry." Trish said, standing. "I'll, um. I'll let you know how it goes."

She left the room and, to Ryan's dismay, he caught himself admiring how the dress fit his mother's curves. She knew how to fill out a dress. Once he was alone again, he retrieved his phone and looked at the photo Zin has sent with her message. His jaw dropped.

It was his mom. She was standing in front of her dresser mirror, her red dress fixed to show off her deep cleavage and hiked to expose the black lace panties she wore underneath. Ryan's body went numb. He stared in disbelief at the photo, knowing that she had sent it to him moments before she came into his room. Her message said she was almost ready, now he knew what she meant. She was dressed, the house was clean. Zin just needed to get her son out of the picture for the night.

"What the fuck." Ryan whispered, his hand over his mouth. To make things worse, she sent him another message, their address. "Oh, what the fuck."

***

Ryan was still upstairs when Trish started dinner. He was taking a long time to leave, or, maybe Trish was just excited. The evening had seemed to drag ever since she sent her date her address. He still had yet to repl. Trish focused on the food, and though she wanted to crack open one of the bottles of wine, she decided against it. She would just have to deal with her nervousness the old fashioned way. Finally, at length, she heard Ryan stomp downstairs.

He shuffled into the kitchen, white as a sheet and trembling. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. Trish was no longer worried about being stood up by her date, she was concerned only with her son.

"Baby, what is it?" She asked.

Ryan didn't answer, at least not with words. He took his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to Trish like a child caught with something he had stolen. Trish looked down and struggled to understand what she saw. She recognized the dating app, but it looked as though Ryan had found her date's profile somehow. He had it pulled up and, as she scrolled through, the truth dawned on her.

"Mom, I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you, honest." Ryan said, barely audible.

Trish stood there silent as she swiped through photos of her son's body on the phone in her hand. Her nerves were gone, but now she felt, well, she wasn't sure how she felt. She handed Ryan back his phone and then pulled out one of the bottles of wine she had bought for this evening. She readied two glasses, uncorked the wine and poured.

"Well, since we're both free tonight," Trish said, handing Ryan a glass of wine. "We might as well have dinner together."

Her son's expression shifted as he took the glass. The shame left him and a faint smile traced his lips. He was a good son. Trish was proud of him for fessing up to the blunder and for being more concerned about his mom's feelings than whether or not he'd be getting laid. Trish saw no reason to change her plans for the evening, they could still have a great dinner and it was long past time for the two of them to catch up. Trish had been so wrapped up with feeling miserable these last few weeks she barely spent time with Ryan.

"Sorry I ruined your date," Ryan said after a sip. "You look hot! If things were different tonight, we for sure would have fu..."

"Fun? We would have." Trish finished.

"Yeah, that."

Trish finished making dinner while her son set the table. It may be different than the evening they had both originally planned, but they both made the most of it. Trish enjoyed catching up with Ryan and it was good to talk about things that were happy for once. He mentioned his classes and how had made several new friends this semester. She talked about work, mostly, and how she was trying to get back out in the dating world. After dinner, Trish opened a fresh bottle of wine, while Ryan did the dishes.

"How 'bout a movie?" Trish asked, giving her son a grin.

"Only if it's a shitty one." Ryan replied, wiping the soap suds from his arms.

It was a time honored tradition in their home, and one that had been neglected in recent years. Trish and Ryan used to watch at least one bad movie together a week. When Ryan was young, it usually meant him dozing off with his head on his mother's lap. As he grew, he stopped dozing and started checking his phone instead. That was when the movie nights had died out. Ryan grew closer to kids his own age and farther from his mother. Once a week turned into once a month, then every great once in a while. The last time was almost two years ago, but tonight seemed the perfect opportunity to resurrect the tradition.

Trish browsed through the collection of streaming services they had subscriptions to, scrolling through the movies, genre by genre, until she found the one she wanted. A pulpy, cheesy horror flick from the eighties. It was perfect for a laugh and would only become more entertaining as they drank the evening away. She queued up the movie and flopped back onto the couch while she waited for Ryan to join her.

Tonight still felt like a date to Trish. She caught herself smoothing the lines on her dress while she waited, her thoughts a flurry half-formed worries that darted around her brain like a school of fish. She wondered if Ryan was having fun with her. She worried the movie might be too boring, or worse, too enjoyable. She thought about whether he would sit beside her or in the chair next to the couch. She wanted him to hold her.

"Jesus, I feel like a teenager. What is wrong with me?" Trish muttered to herself, dispelling the thoughts from her mind.

Her son came in a few moments later with a charming grin and a fresh bottle of wine. He held two glasses aloft in his hand and said, "I come bearing gifts."

"Perfect timing, stud." Trish said and patted the seat beside her.

Ryan filled the glasses and dimmed the lights. Trish thumbed the remote and the movie started. The black screen flashed with red, bleeding text that spelled out the film's title. Then the red vanished, replaced with a shot of a lake at midnight. It was clear that the scene was filmed on an autumn evening, despite the text at the bottom, which read, summer 1962.

"Of course," Ryan joked. "It isn't a slasher unless it starts with two camp councilors sneaking away from every bed in the area to go have sex in the woods."