And all I can say is: “I really like your foundation. Very dewy.”
Ten minutes. That’s how long she said. “Just give me ten minutes to finish my face.” 10 Minutes While My Girlfriend-s Mother Is Doin...
It sounds like you're referencing a known short story or creative writing piece — likely the one by titled "10 Minutes While My Girlfriend's Mother Is Doing Her Makeup (A Monologue for a Man About to Get Married)." It's a humorous, anxiety-ridden internal monologue from a man waiting to ask for his girlfriend's mother's blessing. And all I can say is: “I really like your foundation
But what if she asks me my five-year plan? What if she says, “You’re not good enough”? What if she laughs? What if she just keeps doing her eyeliner in terrifying silence? “Just give me ten minutes to finish my face
But here I am. Sweating through my nice shirt. The ring box in my jacket pocket feels like a live grenade. I rehearsed this. In the car. In the shower. At 3 a.m. staring at the ceiling.
She sits down across from me.
My girlfriend’s mother. Mary. Retired school principal. Keeps a list of “approved topics for male guests” in her head. Sports. Weather. Real estate. Nothing about emotions, careers that don’t involve a 401k, and definitely nothing about marrying her daughter.