Four months in, we’re laying around on a lazy Sunday afternoon and SG#1 tells me about a wedding he’s been invited to in Kansas City – his home town. “So, I’m thinking it would be fun to have a date at the wedding.”
“Oh yeah. Who are you going to take?” [Me being facetious]
“I was thinking of taking you, and, well, my parents live there, in Kansas City, so maybe, umm...”
Oh. My. Goodness.
He wants me to meet his parents.
In Kansas City!!
I was excited and nervous and all kinds of freaked out. Just four months in and a meet-the-parents weekend?! This guy really liked me, and I really liked him and suddenly I had ruby slippers on my feet and I was in Pleasantville with SG#1 and everything was just peachy – which could never happen because big, frizzy, curly hair doesn’t fit the whole Pleasantville look.
Three clicks of my heels later and there I was stepping off of the plane at Kansas City International. SG#1 and his dad picked me up and whisked me away to drinks while we waited for our table at Jack Stack Barbecue (One of Kansas City’s finest BBQ joints). This is the time any girlfriend waits for: embarrassing childhood stories about your significant other’s first girlfriend, pictures of them at their first prom, etc. Instead, SG#1’s dad (who we will refer to as Mr. Dad from now on) started in on a story:
“I remember when I moved to St. Louis and I was looking for a girlfriend…my friends wrote me a list of potential mates to call for a date, one of which was SG#1’s mom.”
The story goes that he actively pursued SG#1’s mom for a couple of months and, after a few unlikely excuses, she finally agreed to a date.
“…six months later we were married. She was 29 and I was 32.” (Smiley, inquisitive look in our direction) “So, how old are you Alani?”
“Well, I’m 29.”
If you haven’t clued in yet, I am 29 and SG#1 is 32 and we had been dating for exactly six months at the time the story was told. I don’t’ think Mr. Dad’s story had an agenda, but after he asked my age the table fell silent…and then erupted in nervous laughter.
Meet-the-dad icebreaker complete.
We paid our tab and walked the yellow brick road to Jack Stack Barbecue for dinner and to meet SG#1’s mom (Mrs. Mom from now on). Dinner was fairly benign. Just the usual childhood stories, questions about what I do – which received an, “Oh interesting, SG#1 has never really been interested in the medical field, at all!”
(I’m pretty sure I already figured that one out after he asked how my first day of internship went and stopped me at the first mucus-laden story). We ate ourselves silly at Jack Stack: a tower of onion rings, barbecue sauce rubbed chicken, pork spare ribs, pulled pork, baked cheesy corn, hickory baked beans a side of meat and a little more meat. I really wanted to try the carrot cake, but I’m not sure I could fit it in – it makes my mouth water just thinking about it. YUM. So far Kansas City was on my top 10 list of best food [read: MEAT] cities and I had successfully lived through meeting the parents. I was excited to hear my official review, but first we moved on to drinks with SG#1’s best friends…
Picture the most dive-y bar you’ve ever seen located just behind a row of over-stocked car dealerships and steaming with young patrons playing betting games and drinking a local IPA. I was starting to fade from a long day of exams, a bumpy plane ride and a release of nervous energy over meeting SG#1’s parents for the first time. I ruffle through my purse for my ID and spot the table of SG#1’s high school friends. They stick out in their button-up shirts with mixed drinks in hand, and as they see SG#1 they all start to smile and cheer.
“You must be Alani. How do you like Kansas City so far?” SG#1’s best friend greets me with a hug.
And before I could answer he motions to the table with a big smile on his face and announces, “We’re all a little fatter, but we’re happy!”
And that’s how the whole weekend went; fun friends, great drinks and more meat than I’ve ever consumed in 36 hours. We went to the most amazing Catholic-Hindu wedding I’ve ever seen (and the first), complete with Hindu tea ceremony, the groom’s grand entrance on a white horse led by traditional Dhol drummers and the entire wedding party dancing and cheering as they processed…you know, just your typical most-awesome-wedding-EVER! It was, however, the longest wedding ever as well and after hour six of drinking and partying, still waiting for the reception to begin, we stopped at the hotel bar for a bite to eat, just a little slider or two. And, much to my surprise it was a mini bun, mini burger patty (inch thick) with more shredded meat piled on top of it – only in Kansas City.
After the festivities drew to a close SG#1, his best friend and I headed to the bars for a drink or two. The best friend and I had a top secret heart to heart, which basically meant him asking me some “really important” questions:
1. So, are you going to marry SG#1?
2. If SG#1 asked you to marry him tomorrow, what would you say?
3. SG#1 seems really happy, how do you feel about him?
Such pointed questions! He did inform me I got an “A” grade (he doesn’t give A+’s), so I was pretty happy about that. And, in terms of the final parental review, as Mr. Dad and Mrs. Mom said their goodbye’s at the wedding (after I had a dance with Mr. Dad), Mrs. Mom said, “Alani, you’re invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas any time you want!”
I think that means they liked me.
Well, this year I’m spending Christmas in Australia, but I might have to take them up on the holiday offer sometime soon. All in all, the meet-the-parents, meet-the-friends, Kansas City weekend was just another chapter in the fairy tale that is dating SG#1 (which totally and completely freaks me out). When will the Wicked Witch of the West whirl onto the scene surrounded by a spiraling tornado of munchkins, lions and tin men? For now, I’ll just click my heels three times and imagine no place like home with SG#1 by my side.
Showing posts with label meeting the parents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meeting the parents. Show all posts
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Being Judged
When you enter into a new relationship your normal way of doing things is suddenly up for discussion.
“Why are you eating your pizza like that?”
“You’re wearing that to the party?!”
“How many times do you work out during the week?”
“Did you really think that one through?”
Sometimes this is the part of you and him that can either make or break the relationship. And it is also where you and your partner challenge each other to becoming better people – even when all that means is a more civilized pizza eater. Although this is all pretty subjective and seemingly petty, it is the meat of daily conversation and the topic of everyday arguments and, if you and your partner can get through it, you open the doors for the real judging to begin: meeting the friends and family.
Not that I'm keeping a running tally or anything, BUT...so far out of SG#1's circle I've met a gaggle of friends, two brothers, one sister, one aunt, one uncle and two cousins (did I miss someone?). And with each meeting there is definitely an element of being judged. The perfect neutral location must be chosen, an equally neutral, but personality-revealing (not anatomy revealing) outfit must be worn, and topics of discussion must be selected carefully as to not to offend your newly acquainted member of his inner circle.
The first family member meeting was probably the most nerve-wracking. It was steamy hot outside for Seattle and I changed my clothes about as many times as SG#1 changed the restaurant location. When I finally walked down the stairs of Barrio in Bellevue (I dare you to count the number of times SG#1 and I have eaten at Barrio), I spotted SG#1 and his younger brother – we all matched! Ice officially broken! The conversation and the tequila flowed freely, and it was fun to see SG#1 and his brother tell stories using the same words and gestures, like only brothers can do. And, as the evening drew to a close the only thing left to do was to wait for my review.
Apparently, the review was a good one because I graduated to meeting SG#1’s sister and even, oh so boldly, spending an afternoon with her alone (no SG#1 to referee the girl talk and shameless family story telling). I was also invited to have dinner at SG#1’s aunt and uncle’s house where opening conversation topics ranged from drag queens to premarital bed-sharing – so much for neutral family discussions!! And most recently, SG#1 and I spent an evening at Paddy Coyne’s with his older brother celebrating big career wins with Irish Car Bombs. Now, if you can share Irish Car bombs together then there is only one direction this family meeting train can travel – to Kansas City to meet the parents. (I also have one more brother to meet!) Yes, yes I’m off to the big KC to rub elbows with the very people that raised SG#1. The ultimate judgment day is quickly arriving and, I must say, I have never experienced such a months-of-advanced-anticipation-meet-the-parents weekend as this one will be, so wish me luck loyal blog readers!
And one last shout-out to SG#1 and his friends watching the Notre Dame game in Indiana who, unbeknownst to me, have already met me through pictures and stories from SG#1 – I can’t even imagine what that means in the midst of tailgating – and have already submitted their review of me in the form of my latest nickname: “Hot Miss Size Zero.”
Note to self: never reveal your size to your boyfriend and pre-approve all iPhone pictures.
“Why are you eating your pizza like that?”
“You’re wearing that to the party?!”
“How many times do you work out during the week?”
“Did you really think that one through?”
Sometimes this is the part of you and him that can either make or break the relationship. And it is also where you and your partner challenge each other to becoming better people – even when all that means is a more civilized pizza eater. Although this is all pretty subjective and seemingly petty, it is the meat of daily conversation and the topic of everyday arguments and, if you and your partner can get through it, you open the doors for the real judging to begin: meeting the friends and family.
Not that I'm keeping a running tally or anything, BUT...so far out of SG#1's circle I've met a gaggle of friends, two brothers, one sister, one aunt, one uncle and two cousins (did I miss someone?). And with each meeting there is definitely an element of being judged. The perfect neutral location must be chosen, an equally neutral, but personality-revealing (not anatomy revealing) outfit must be worn, and topics of discussion must be selected carefully as to not to offend your newly acquainted member of his inner circle.
The first family member meeting was probably the most nerve-wracking. It was steamy hot outside for Seattle and I changed my clothes about as many times as SG#1 changed the restaurant location. When I finally walked down the stairs of Barrio in Bellevue (I dare you to count the number of times SG#1 and I have eaten at Barrio), I spotted SG#1 and his younger brother – we all matched! Ice officially broken! The conversation and the tequila flowed freely, and it was fun to see SG#1 and his brother tell stories using the same words and gestures, like only brothers can do. And, as the evening drew to a close the only thing left to do was to wait for my review.
Apparently, the review was a good one because I graduated to meeting SG#1’s sister and even, oh so boldly, spending an afternoon with her alone (no SG#1 to referee the girl talk and shameless family story telling). I was also invited to have dinner at SG#1’s aunt and uncle’s house where opening conversation topics ranged from drag queens to premarital bed-sharing – so much for neutral family discussions!! And most recently, SG#1 and I spent an evening at Paddy Coyne’s with his older brother celebrating big career wins with Irish Car Bombs. Now, if you can share Irish Car bombs together then there is only one direction this family meeting train can travel – to Kansas City to meet the parents. (I also have one more brother to meet!) Yes, yes I’m off to the big KC to rub elbows with the very people that raised SG#1. The ultimate judgment day is quickly arriving and, I must say, I have never experienced such a months-of-advanced-anticipation-meet-the-parents weekend as this one will be, so wish me luck loyal blog readers!
And one last shout-out to SG#1 and his friends watching the Notre Dame game in Indiana who, unbeknownst to me, have already met me through pictures and stories from SG#1 – I can’t even imagine what that means in the midst of tailgating – and have already submitted their review of me in the form of my latest nickname: “Hot Miss Size Zero.”
Note to self: never reveal your size to your boyfriend and pre-approve all iPhone pictures.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
