10 Minutes While My Girlfriend-s Mother | Is Doin...

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.

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. 10 Minutes While My Girlfriend-s Mother Is Doin...

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. But here I am

Ten minutes. That’s how long she said. “Just give me ten minutes to finish my face.” I rehearsed this

I hear her now. Mascara wand clicking. She’s taking her time. This isn’t makeup. This is psychological warfare.