Gretchen asked if I was nervous as we were racing up the Baltimore Washington parkway on the way to have dinner with her parents. I think that even if I was truly nervous, I would never have admitted to it.
I've met her mother twice before and her father and I shared a couple of distant waves, but this would be the official introductory dinner where we all get to look each other over.
Apparently, everyone wants to get a good look at the guy who's been having his way with Gretchen. Parents, friends, sisters, they all want to meet me.
Gretchen requested her mother's special "stuffed shells", as unfair tales of my picky eating have preceeded me.
I don't like meeting parents. Actually, I don't like meeting anyone or doing anything difficult really. Of course, that covers the gamut from breaking up to mathmatics, so I can't take myself that seriously. Just because it's uncomfortable, doesn't mean you shouldn't do it. Oral sex for example.
I choose to wear an inexpensive button down short-sleeve shirt from H&M, along with a pair of slacks.
Casual, but clean. Nice looking without implying any effort.
I'm well aware that I'm far more acceptable then any of the previous guys Gretchen has dated, so to spiff myself up too much would appear forced and insincere. I'd rather come off as a slob then an Eddie Haskell.
The road held no obstructions, so we arrived on time, just as her mother finishing up the preparations.
The obligatory plesantries were exchanged and her father joined us a few minutes later, fresh from a shower.
Conversation started slow, but came easy. We munched up bowls of dandelion greens and ranch dressing, then moved on to stuffed shells with turkey meatballs.
It certainly helped that the food was actually good. I'm still shocked sometimes at what some people pass off as digestible, but her mother's meatballs were genuinely delicious.
Gretchen was lively in a way I'd never seen before. Animated, talkative, and quite funny. She became a completely different person around her parents, but I'm sure I'm a completely different person around her parents as well.
Her father seemed to approve of me, and it felt like her mother actually liked me, so it became much easier to open up around them.
We talked for a while after dinner, then Gretchen announced that she wanted to go get beer for us. I offered to pay, but her father quickly fished up a crisp twenty, and after showing us the eerie WTC images, we headed out to grab a six-pack of Corona.
Gretchen said that was a certain sign that her father liked me, as he wouldn't have offered to pay otherwise.
We returned shortly and all sat down in the living room to listen to classic rock and share stories.
Tales flowed about family hijinks and sibling rivalries. How Gretchen's sisters used to sneak out a night, how much her Dad used to yell. Random relatives with emotional quirks.
About an hour and a half later, the beer was exhausted and our night was ending.
I'd made a good impression and everyone seemed pleased with the time we'd spent together. I'd met the parents and they met me. There were no uncomfortable moments, no prolonged silences, and no embarrassing spills or breaks.
I left their house without staining anything, and I didn't insult anyone in the process.
They actually seemed to like me and approve of me, which made me feel even worse about my mother being so crabby. But rather then concern myself with family bullshit, I made a conscious decision to enjoy one last night with this lovely girl.
