Jaime the Man!

So yesterday I sat down with my old landlady, Carmen, and she told me Jaime, the gentleman who helped me move, told her I will never get married... I was very surprised with the diagnosis, I only met Jaime for a couple of hours and somehow he concluded between moving a desk and a cupboard  that I had no hope with women?
"Why did he say that?" I asked, but Carmen was fast on the trigger "Because you were on the phone to your mother while you were moving, and we women don't like men who talk to their mothers everyday. Jaime knows that." I'll be damn! Good old Jaime had a point after all! Am I becoming what I hate the most? A South European man who worships his mom like those forty year old Italians who live with their moms and refuse to let anyone into their lives? I live alone, and I don't have many friends in LA so it really feels good to have a voice in the other end of the line, to listen and drop the sporadic advice. Sometimes just so I can vent and scream.  But is that pulling me away from relationships? Should I go to a bar and talk to the bar tender as if he knows me?
Once I heard that an explorer introduced TV to a lost native tribe in Brazil and for a week the tribe sat around the device as if it had divine powers but after that they lost interest. The explorer asked the chief why the tribe was not paying attention to the TV anymore and the chief answered "Because my Shaman knows me." It's the same with me, I talk to my mom, because she knows me and no one around here does.
This morning my mom send me a message asking me how my day was going, I said  "Not now, mom..." but that made me feel more of a teenager than anything else.  It should also be added - not in a Richard Nixon "My mom was a saint" kinda of way- that my mom is indeed the most amazing human being I know, and never gave me bad advice. I'll probably start asking Jaime about the big questions of life, he for one, seems to have his shit together.