I’m sure you’ve appreciated the irony before: Just as a relationship starts to go really well, you wind up having to meet the parents. It’s inevitable — a necessary part of any relationship, just as much as first dates and meeting your significant other’s friends. I don’t mean to exaggerate the importance of such hurdles. I’ve just had some hiccups in my past and felt the repercussions.
The worst of it happened a few years back, when I went through a short “pink polo” phase. My friend bought me a tiny, tight pink shirt in Japan and, for some unknown reason, I wore the thing constantly. Last time I was home for Spring Break, I found the shirt buried in one of my drawers and tried it on again, just for kicks. Wow, I thought while looking in the mirror. I was an idiot in high school. The sleeves barely made it over my shoulders (I haven’t grown since then, either), the length was dangerously close to being belly-dancer-worthy — and it was freakin’ pink.
Though wearing the shirt was terrible in itself, my biggest mistake had to have been wearing that little monstrosity when I met the parents of the girl I was semi-dating. (Not completely dating, but we hung out a lot, did other things…)
I remember walking into her house like a doofus: all pink, trotting right up to her mom and introducing myself without a care in the world.
“Oh… hello… Lucas.”
I thought everything was going well. The conversation moved into the casual, and I figured we were on track to bridge the generation gap. Soon we were talking about how awesome last night’s episode of Two and a Half Men was, and laughing giddily at how our wry sense of humor and love of Charlie Sheen matched up so impeccably well.
Then it all fell apart. I think it was when I mentioned that I legitimately enjoy an episode of Gilmore Girls every now and then. (Rapid-fire, quick-witted dialogue just gets me.) And then, in a completely serious, wide-eyed way, the girl’s mom asks me:
What the hell, lady? Are you serious? Thinking about it now still makes me angry. First of all, I’m not gay. Second of all, neither is watching Gilmore Girls.
At the time, I just stopped dead. As my semi-girlfriend started chuckling next to me and my face became the color of my idiotic shirt, I could only muster up a weak, gulp-in-the-middle,
I turned to face the still-laughing girl and felt myself shrinking into nothing. I knew it was over. A week later, we semi-broke-up. (It’s how you end semi-relationships.)
To tell the truth, I’m usually awesome at those types of things. Don’t look so surprised — moms love me. It’s more than just dropping the “I go to Northwestern” bomb, which works wonders: I just have a way with them. One mom still even sends me a care package filled with my favorite cookies, brownies and banana bread during Finals Week of every quarter. No joke. I swear. And, man, she is really good at baking.
But having parents swoon over your greatness doesn’t mean anything unless it rings true with the person you are dating. Some girls have this weird “Juliet” complex where, to really like a guy, they need their parents to eternally hate him. Trust me, getting her dad to want to play golf with you or getting her mom to agree to a “mall day” is a far cry from ensuring that your dating partner is hanging out with you next weekend. On the other hand, some girls need mommy’s and daddy’s approval (this is where I like my chances). In that situation, well, at least you’ve got your work cut out for you.
So step up with courage. (And please, normal clothing.) If meeting the parents doesn’t go well, it’s not the end of the world. She figured you were worthy enough to meet the people who birthed her in the first place, which is what really counts — after all, her parents aren’t the ones dating you.