Visited Mom tonight. Try to be a good son. Agreed to dinner out (her treat was the promise) followed by a movie on Netflix. Had nothing better going, and as usual, had just finished a long 6-day work week, including office time today (Saturday) prior to the meal. I agree, thinking I can shut my brain off for a few ours, which I desperately need in my line of work, which is all mental labor.

I arrive at dinnertime. I see she has food on the stove. She informs me she bought dinner for two in a bag from the discount grocer for $6.99 and was heating it up. So much for the nice meal out on her. Whatever, I eat the grade C meat and look forward to time on the couch staring mindlessly at a movie.

But nope! After shoveling the food from the bag joylessly into my emotionless face, Mom has a series of tech tasks for me. Phone is acting up. Car console digital screen needs attention. Fitbit needs to be synced. Forgotten passwords for various e-services need to be recovered (again). Etc. I spend an hour-plus doing various menial tech tasks for her, which wears on me.

Finally, the couch! We put on a movie, she takes the chair, and I'm ready to zone out. But then, during the movie, she starts hitting me up for professional advice that requires my field of professional expertise, the kind for which I charge clients handsomely and of which I just spent six grueling days dispensing before desperately just wanting to absently stare at a television screen.

By the time I leave three hours after arriving, I'm thoroughly frustrated. I has just worked a full day and then was essentially made to do a part-time shift of unpaid mental labor after under pretense of a paid dinner out and turning off my brain to Netflix, neither of which happened. This happens pretty much every time I visit.

It occurs to me that for women, seeing a man relaxing must feel like a capital asset being under-utilized, losing profit needlessly. This galls me. I've been out of romantic relationships since 2015 and have lived alone since, so I can relax when I need to. And I do need to a couple of times per week. I intended Saturday night at Mom's to be one of these scant, much-needed recharges, but she couldn't tolerate it. It occurs to me for men in relationships, they can never truly relax. I have some married buddies who work 80+ hours a week. In this context, it makes sense. Why bother going home? It's not like the work shift is over when you get there . . . .