Sunday, January 23

day 10279: meeting the parents…

“Be nice,” I said to him. “Don’t be so nervous. She’s really not as bad as you think she is… you only hear my bitching and complaining stories. Besides, I’ve met your mom.”

“Be nice,” I told her. “We’re just friends. He’s been there when I needed him.”

They don’t like each other. Never have. One is scared to death of the other; the other is scared to death of what the other might do to me.

They’ve seen one another a few times before. No words were spoken, no pleasantries exchanged. He called it the stare of “what-they-heck-are-you-doing-in-my-daughter’s-house” and said that it was hard to get to know someone you knew didn’t like you. She called him “that-one-who-didn’t-even-have-the-decency-to-say-hi.”

He may of... and if he did, she never heard him.

Beer delivery, 32 cases of Sleeman… my car filled almost to the brim…

“Mom, this is Triscuit. Triscuit, this is my mom, my aunt and my uncle.”

Pleasantries were exchanged. Conversation was made. Neither felt particularly comfortable, but both survived relatively unscathed.

Hurdle 1 cleared.

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