passion...schmassion

day 10546: meeting the ‘rents

I blame it all on a drunken hazy night a couple of weeks ago. I don’t remember when. We had bantered back and forth about meeting the parents etc etc, but there were no plans… no commitments… nothing would happen unless I was certain that I was ready to meet the ‘rents. I wasn’t ready. I was drunk. I said yes.

I dreaded meeting parents. I’m not very good at it. Be it someone I’m dating or one of my friend’s parents, it always feels awkward and uncertain in the beginning. Will they like me? Am I good enough for their child? What the heck do people really think about me? Do I make a good first impression? I’d ace it if it was a job interview. Parents, on the other hand, completely absolutely terrify me.

I have no idea where my fear comes from. Maybe from the spit-and-polish-stand-up-straight a la Sound of Music style dating back to my early childhood years. Just joking… no… not really. First impressions were always a big deal in my family. You are nothing if your reputation isn’t good enough.

But I had committed and I had to follow through. Granted, it helped that I actually really met them for the first time last week when we stopped by to pick up the roasting pan, but here was THREE hours of Q&A over DINNER… AHHHHHH RUNNNNN!!!!

*insert panic and hand-wringing here*

Of course, My-boy-Bacon, being the perfect sweetheart that he is, decides to send me this.

Ouch! Family dinners Schmassion style is nothing like that. There’s no plate passing, or polite conversation or anything… food gets thrown into the middle of the table, and it’s a virtual free for all. You scoop what you want, you scoop for others what you don’t want. Ok, it’s not that bad. But FORMAL FAMILY DINNERS? (In case you’re too lazy to click on the link and watch the thrilling 10 minute how-to on the perfect family dinner… there is no joke at the end… it really is about Father coming home to a perfect family and perfect Mother cooking dinner for the perfect kids.)

*insert more panic and hand-wringing here*

Sunday afternoon, I get back from an awesome afternoon of riding (mmmm… motorcycles), and OMFG I have NOTHING TO WEAR!!!

”Um Babe. I hate to go all girlie-girl on you… but… um… I don’t know what to wear…”

“Do you have jeans?”

“Yes.”

“That's a good start. Do you have a t-shirt?”

“Yes. But they all say something…”

“Do you have a t-shirt that’s not obscene?”

“Yes. But I can’t wear those… They’re too… me-me-me…”

Clothes were scattered all over the bed. I ended up wearing a work dress shirt with jeans, a blazer and the boots that I went riding in. We bought a bottle of wine. I panicked. Stopped by my ‘rents place to pick up more goodies. I panicked.

But we ending up having a grand fabulous time at dinner… with… his… parents… didn't panick.

And afterwards… the all important text message…

BTW… the family approves…

Wicked. :)