So Keep Your Rain Away From My Parade Right?

Im having a parade people. Its 18 years in the making and its a damn fine celebration. Everything about it, screams parade.

Mother, bless her heart, hit me up last night. So, daughter dearest she says...whats the official status of the love life?

I have a love life? Remember Im talking with my mother, all she needs to know is whether Im bringing him home to meet the family, she doesnt need to know anything about my love life. Or my life of love for that matter. The official status mother? I believe the term is dead.

Dead? How can that be daughter dearest? she says. What happened to Target man? He's gone mother. Long time back. Not for me. Well, she says, Im still curious about this date you promised to bring to the wedding. How's he?

Oh Mummy, youve hit upon my favourite subject. I can wax lyrical about that particular date for the rest of my life, but some things are not fit for a mothers ears. So I'll gloss over most of it. Oh he's still hhhhot mummy. He'll be the hottest date there. REally? she says. I might just tell your sister to stop helping me look for a new dress, Im not going.

Not going mummy? Whys that? I says. She replies....well if he's that hot, and you wont tell me who it is, chances are he's trouble, and will not be of the parental approval variety. Get your rain away from my parade mother, hes not trouble. He's hhhhhhot.

See? she says. hhhhhhot. That many h's and he's got to be trouble.

Mother is desperate to know who my date is. And Im desperate not to tell her. The thing is see, mother may well have an opinion on this particular date, which may well include putting her foot down and saying he aint coming. And if thats going to happen, I dont wanna hear it til way further down the track. As I said, this is my damn parade and I dont want any rain on it. So I cant tell her who it is. I did however tell her why I cant tell her who it is. She again announced the man must be trouble and it will all end in tears. I says, dont be ridiculous mother, hes not trouble, hes a respectable boy, with decent manners, eyes I could drown in, kisses I could die in and arms I just wanna throw myself into. Mother, I says, he's that hhhhhhhhhot Im actually considering having his babies. Mention the word babies at my mother and she has an instant heart attack.

OH dear, she says. Child, she says, you dont want anyones babies. Bloody hell woman, I says, didnt I already tell you to keep your damn rain away from my parade? Of course I want his babies, hes hhhhhhhhhot.

See, she says...hhhhhhot. Thats trouble with a capital T.

No, mother, I says. Trouble with a capital T, is me. Agreed, says mother, now who is the damn date?

Thought for this second....she's just jealous cos my date will be the hottest man in the room, everyone will be drooling all over him, from afar of course, cos Im takin my mouth guard and gloves. I aint havin no skanky who with the added r and e sidling up to my date. In fact, this is one wedding where I hope I get shafted with a back table, near the door. For easy exiting. Mother is right. Any man that hhhhhhhot has to be trouble. And Im all for trouble. Afterall, its my damn parade.