In a perfect world, her family would welcome you into their home with open arms. Having heard glorious praises in your name, they would offer you a permanent invitation to all family functions, where everyone else would rave over you. Her father would allow you to sit in his big papa chair and insist you join him at all major sporting events. His mother would become fast friends with you and take you on pleasant shopping excursions. Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world.
In reality, meeting your significant’s parental units is quite possibly the most excruciating step in a relationship . Schedule a root canal for the following day and it will seem like child’s play in comparison. No amount of impressive gifts or brushing up on family history can prepare you for this event. The one thing you can count on is that the parents will hate you.
While your beloved thinks you are perfection personified, her parents will be searching for anything to hold against you. From the moment they open the door, all eyes will be on you and flaw detectors will be powered up. After all, you are dating (and hopefully nothing more) their precious baby. The golden child, fruit of their loins, a treasure of which you are not worthy. To them, you are a criminal (you did steal their little girl’s heart) and must be stopped at any cost. Maybe it isn’t that extreme, but you may want to watch for land mines on the way to the washroom. In any case, parents will always believe that no one is good enough for their precious virginal prize.
The meeting invitation will most likely be set for dinner. Dinner sounds harmless, right? If you’ve been asked to go to a restaurant, a smooth evening may be ahead. Going out for dinner, as you may have learned on many first dates, provides plenty of distractions; waiters disrupting conversations, menus to hide behind, and a cleverly planned bout of food poisoning could clear you from any heavy-duty conversation. If you’ve been invited to the house for dinner, you’re screwed.
Dinner at the house (home of the dominant parent, if divorce is the case) is not simply a meal shared among family and new friends; it is a test of survival. Mom conveniently starts cooking as soon as you arrive. It will undoubtedly be a grand feast, one requiring several hours of preparation. After the initial greetings and chitchat, a verbal metal detector if you will, comes the interrogation. The interrogation room appears to be a friendly living room filled with knick-knacks and photos of your beloved in various growth spurts. Take a seat on the largest couch, in plain view of Dad, maintaining one seat cushion distance between you and your love. Anything closer will receive disapproving looks. At this point, dinner will be in the oven, so Mom may join the interrogation. Any siblings or other family members will be out of sight.
The interrogation will feel much like a job interview. Where are you from, where did you go to school, are your parents still together, how did you two meet, what makes you think you’re any good for our bundle of joy? You may want to edit out any unpleasant information like being raised by a pack of wolves or that you met their daughter in the video section of a seedy adult store.
Once you have satisfactorily answered all the questions, dinner will be ready. All siblings, visiting family members, and pets will pour out of the woodwork to meet you. Here you will be introduced to Humpy the poodle who hasn’t been neutered, the religious grandmother, and a married sibling who was lucky enough to find someone to pass all the tests. You will immediately seek a bond with this other outsider and fail.
After dinner, while you repeatedly check your watch and give your love signs that you’re ready to leave, the parents will offer entertainment. The rest of the characters mysteriously vanish. The parents drag out old photo albums with more photos of your love at various stages in her life. This serves two purposes, to embarrass their child and to test your knowledge. There will be strategically placed photos of an old flame the parents will refer to as “that nice boy/girl you let slip away” and will follow up with “what happened to him/her?” Your beloved should use this chance to talk you up. This is the closing argument for acceptance.
Finally, the parents have grown tired of you. They thank you for coming; you thank them for having you. They tell their child that they will call tomorrow. You know the call will seal your fate with them.
Can’t bear the thought of rejection? Beg your beloved not to mention you to her parents. Hire a stand-in for family functions. Failing that, make a vow to only date orphans.
The Curable Romantic: Advice for the Romance-Impaired is now available at Amazon.com and other online retailers. See our website for more reading and purchasing options.
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