Lisa was 42. She had been "Jake’s mom" since we were five—the one who cut the crust off our PB&Js and drove us to soccer practice in a minivan that smelled like wet dog. But in 2021, something shifted. Maybe it was the lockdown glow-up. Maybe she had finally dyed her hair that auburn color she always wanted. Or maybe I had just grown up.
That night, I went home and couldn't sleep. My stomach was in knots. I googled, "Why do I like my friend's mom?" The results were clinical: Freudian complexes, Oedipal theories, puberty. But none of them captured the gentleness of it. To understand this "first love," you have to understand the unique hellscape of early 2021. We were isolated. Our peers were reduced to avatars on a screen. The only emotional intimacy many of us experienced came from the adults in our immediate orbit—parents, older siblings, or, in my case, my best friend’s mother. my first love is my friends mom 2021
She was wearing a simple linen shirt and jeans, laughing at a TikTok her daughter showed her. She wasn’t trying to be attractive. She was just alive . After a year of seeing everyone through a 720p webcam, seeing her real smile—the crinkle around her eyes, the way she tilted her head when she listened—hit me like a fever. Lisa was 42
Why? Not because love is wrong, but because the power dynamics are impossible. She was an adult responsible for my wellbeing. She was my host, my feeder, my friend’s protector. Even if she felt something (she didn’t), any relationship would be built on an uneven foundation. Jake would lose his best friend. Her marriage would implode. And I would lose the only safe space I had in a pandemic. Maybe it was the lockdown glow-up