Irish-Catholic mothers have a very, very specific type of man they want to see their daughter latch onto. If you’re not Irish, or Catholic, here are a few of the qualities these momzilla’s* look for in a potentially eligible bachelor for their female offspring:

*these might just be MY mum’s requirements

  1. Is he Catholic?  // Irish?
  2. How Catholic? // How Irish?
  3. Does he celebrate St. Patrick’s Day?
  4. If yes, is there a parade involved? If no, why don’t you bring him to our family’s annual parade (subtext: then you could confirm to everyone that you actually know a straight [Irish-Catholic] man!)
  5. Does he have great hair?
  6. If no, why not? (to put it nicely, “Later, gater.”)
  7. Is he a liberal?
  8. If no, why not? (to put it nicely, “Hit the road, Jack.”)
  9. Does he have a job/car/apartment/college degree?
  10.  If no, why not? (to put it nicely, “GIT OUTTA HEYAH!”

That being said, I broke every rule in the book when it came to dating. Yes, ladies (and fashionably intuitive men), I brought home George of the Republican-Party-Jobless-Degreeless-Carless-Band Jungle. Now, I’m not saying there’s anything particularly wrong with this type of person, unless, of course you have my Irish-Catholic, luscious-haired mother, in which case, everything is wrong with this type of person.

I should have known this person was very, very wrong for me on every blatantly-stated, Irish-Catholic level when my mum first greeted him wearing a fake arm I had fashioned out of plaster in 11th grade (yes, this really happened. On the FIRST meeting. After I asked her very nicely NOT to embarrass me with the plaster arm thing.) At the time, I was a newly independent college freshman, listening to a lot of newly independent, emotionally freeing music. That, and I loved guys in bands. I was nineteen, gimme a break. I’m proud to say that now I am an emotionally mature twenty-something with a decent head on her shoulders, thanks in large part to my fantastic, angelic-haired mother and practical, straightforward father, and I’m here to share with you some of the comically genius, brilliantly blatant advice my parents have passed down to me, such as: “Honey, no one that cute is single, and no one that single is straight.” -Mum

Lesson learned: Listen to your parents. Unless, of course, your parent is Tom Cruise in the height of his Scientology, in which case, run. You’ll thank me later.