Neighbour Diaries: Mummy’s boy

Mummy’s boy, huh! Of all things, no one had ever called me that before. I didn’t fit the profile in any case, and while I didn’t really have any problem with being called a mummy’s boy, it was the timing that got me off guard. So, after my escapades, I needed a real break from life. And the one place I was assured everything would be ok was at my mum’s and that’s where I went. After a week of good food, and motherly love, I was absolutely stress-free. So, when I run into this chic and she mentioned that I seemed to be a very happy man of late I decided to let her into the secret behind my apparent happiness. I told her the whole story, starting from the time I shifted from my flat because of a murderous neighbour who thought I was diddling his wife, to that shady house I went to in a slum where I lost my TV and got my hand broken, to that other place near a factory where I moved and finally, like all things have to come to an end, I lost every single material possession I had. I guess I also lost my will to stand up and fight, and that when I headed back home, home to my mother’s so that I could reset myself. All the while I told this girl my sad story, she kept quite. Even when I was telling her about how thieves had broken my door at night, beat me and made me carry my TV to their car, she didn’t flinch or show any concern. But when I finished telling my story, while I didn’t necessarily expect consolations and tears of pity, the last thing I expected was “Shem, you are a mummy’s boy!” For a moment, I kept quite because that wasn’t the response I would have expected immediately. Maybe later on, but not right away! She repeated it; “you are a little boy, running off to mummy when things get tough”. And I laughed because I was really surprised. I couldn’t understand how this girl had missed the entire point of the story and only noticed the end. I mean, I had been nearly killed; I had lived right next to a bunch of robbers or murderers or whatever they were. And this girl had ignored all that to tell me that I was a mummy’s boy. So, I asked her, “What would you have done in my situation. And she said, “I would have stayed right there like a man, but not run to mummy. Come on Shem, you acted like a little boy. Men never run to mummy”. I debated whether to take the girl lightly or get angry with her. And I decided that getting angry would only prove her point, so I continued laughing and told her I was actually late for my evening shift of breast feeding. But she wasn’t joking! She was very serious, and after I made that joke, she got really furious and stormed away. Now I wondered, why was this girl angry with me staying at my mother’s? How did it affect her? How was it even her business where I stayed? There was no connection to her, but well, like I have always said, women are simply impossible to understand. So, I walked off, went back home and found a hot meal waiting for me. Now, you can also call me a mummy’s boy if you want, but these hot meals were never there in my house. I think I am going to stay here for a while. Ends