Meeting the Parents: A Folks Tale

Meeting a significant others parents can be a stressful experience. I should know—I have endured this most awkward of social interactions under a variety of rather unbelievable circumstances. Through my own troubles, and the examinations of friends’ recantations of their own experiences, I have concluded that this situation can truly set the stage for the proliferation of a meaningful relationship, or just the opposite. It can also set the scene for increased sexual experimentation, or close the door on it forever. So listen up people.

Let’s face it, 99 times out of 100 you want to make a good impression on ma and pa dukes. A rigorously rehearsed façade that poses you as both a meaningful member of society and a desirable mate can pay off for you over and over again. If every time she calls home all her mother wants to know is how you’re doing, and dad is wondering when your next tee-time is going to be, even the most blatant of fuck-ups can crumble under the undue pressure of parental expectations. So the first lesson to learn is that like it or not, meeting the parental units is fucking game time. As in, put on that sappy smile and feign interest over the family dog, little brother, or exquisite floral arrangements that adorn the house just the way you did when you first met your girlfriend. Except instead of floral arrangements and little doggies it was the classes she’s taking this semester and what she wants to do with her life.

Bottom line: this shit can all be placed under the gigantic category of shit you don’t give a fuck about about but acting like your interested in it will probably increase your chances of getting laid. Make no mistake this is a rather expansive category to say the least, but you should have realized by now that the only way out of dealing with this shit is by becoming fabulously wealthy and hiring round-the-clock whores to service you. Barring winning the lottery or founding the next YouTube you should really take this responsibility seriously, as a little bit of effort up front can end up paying off for you ten-fold down the line.

Now some of the time you aren’t going to be able to control when and where you meet her parents, in which case you are probably screwed. Case in Point: The first time I met my girlfriend’s parents a variety of factors were not in my favor, the first being how long it had taken to meet them. (Anytime the parents have been hearing about you daily and haven’t met you yet, a certain air of expectation builds like a balloon being filled with Whip-It gas.) But the main problem was the fact that I had come from a party to pick up my girlfriend, not even thinking that implied meeting her parents. Well, that and the fact I was tripping on acid. It really hit me hard when I got to the driveway, called her to tell her I was there, and she told me to come in and say hello to the parental units. There I was tripping balls in my Toyota Celica with this kid nicknamed Jesus in my backseat and all of a sudden I’m supposed to put on my sober face and play the part of a cordial boyfriend?? This is heavy shit for anyone on acid, let alone an 18-year-old, and once I got inside things didn’t get any better.

The cat looked like a fucking mountain lion and her dad was dead set on introducing me to him after continually hearing from his daughter how much I adored my two felines. Now, my two cats Smokey and Fatty are harmless creatures hell bent on staying high off of the ample amount of catnip I provide them on a daily basis and little else, but this creature had fangs akin to a saber-toothed tiger, claws like a lynx, and seemed at the time to be about the size of a small rhinoceros. Needless to say, I was more than reluctant to interact with the pussy, and my inability to explain why only facilitated a precipitous rise in the already high level of tension inherent to the situation. The situation ended in a shouting match between her father and I over the relative domestication levels of modern house pets.

To make a long story short, I pissed off both her parents, my girlfriend herself, and even Jesus was pissed at me for making him deal with the ensuing screaming match on the drive back to the party when I had promised him a cut ride. (Trying dealing with Jesus being mad at you on acid sometime and see if you don’t end up with a sour taste in your mouth.) And wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t even blow me on the drive home. Which adds merit to my original contention that bringing anything but your best effort to the table when meeting the ‘rents can and will do more harm than good.

As I was saying earlier, controlling the circumstances of when and where you meet the parents is crucial. You don’t want them rolling up to your messy dorm or apartment unannounced. You don’t want them stopping by when your ripping bong hits and playing Xbox, and to further a previous point, you don’t want to roll up to their house whilst fighting off uncontrollable hallucinations. So take the initiative and make a dinner out of it. Better yet, meet at some event like a play or a presentation your girlfriend is involved in so they think you actually care about more than trying to expand her catalog of sexual positions. Trust me, if you don’t nip it in the bud on your own terms, you will eventually end up meeting them in a forum associated with a holiday, adding to the already unnecessary expectations that social encounter is riddled with.

Beyond controlling the when and where, all you need to really do is dress neatly, smell good, and act like an interested jackass. Oh, and lie about your grades, life goals, income, and family heritage. Unfortunately this part is on you fuckers, because I don’t know what trailer park trash you’re dealing with and each situation is going to call for its own unique set of lies and deceit. In the words of Darwin: “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” So figure out what your girlfriend’s parents want to hear, or make it up as you go along. Either way, make sure you pet the fucking cat when prompted.