COLUMN: My own personal 'Meet the Parents'
Published: Thursday, September 12, 2013
Updated: Monday, September 30, 2013 23:09
As a fifth-year senior who spent a majority of his collegiate experience aloof of any luck with women, a quick note to all freshman: We get it.
Yeah, we see you. It’s week three and every last one of you are already in relationships. We’ve observed enough dudes pretending they are actually into One Direction and girls clamoring on about whatever a Macklemore is — is it a snack food? It had a pound sign next to it, too. I’m too old for this — to note the most melodramatic romantic interlude this side of “High School Musical” has commenced. As if the barrage of hair flips, giggles and strawberry-flavored Fergie Ferg Fresh lip gloss — actual item, look it up — wasn’t clue enough.
We’re glad you’re “happ” — just remember at some point you’ll be faced with a challenge no level of lip gloss can save. Soon enough, you’ll have to survive meeting the family.
It’s never an easy task meeting the family, where every moment is a pivotal audition to the next day of your romantic life. From the moment you fall unsure whether or not to take off your shoes when you walk into the house, you learn quickly that no meet-the-family experience falls short of an adventure.
Think I’m lying? Here’s a quick illustration from two weeks should show you I have just to expertise.
My welcome to Jenny’s family came through a normal orientation ritual found in many families: I had to get by the family dog.
Baxter is no easy Yorkshire terrier. He posts a big personality and an even bigger bark. Baxter shrieked at me feet for the duration of the evening, promoting a comment from potential mother-in-law that Baxter doesn’t warm up too easy to strangers. I immediately knew my first challenge had been laid down.
The rest of the evening was a wave of quick victories for me. My strategy went like clockwork. Make them laugh over pizza, talk football with Dad, visit brother at work, impress everyone with an unhealthy knowledge of “Full House” and of course perfecting the cuddle-to-making-rest-of-family-so-uncomfortable-that-you-are-physically-mauling-their-princess ratio — a much more sensitive line than you would imagine. When it was all done I plopped quietly onto my TV-room-dwelling cot for a period of sleep. I had survived day one without as much as a hitch.