Meet the parents.

It’s Monday… a Monday after a long, relaxing weekend and work is pretty much the LAST place I want to be (not that there’s ever a day I’m looking forward to being here…).

I didn’t say it last week, but yesterday, I met D’s mom and dad. I was fretting over it all week long. Let me tell you how this went down.

D mentioned meeting his parents weeks ago when he met my friends. I was shocked, to which he said, “Well you don’t have to meet them.” I absolutely wanted to meet them, it was just that I’ve never had a boyfriend want me to meet his family. When I dated BEX, I had to present him with an ultimatum to meet his parents. I finally did, but never saw them again.

The two boyfriends I had before that, I didn’t meet their families. The guy I dated before that, my first love, I met his parents but I think it was by default since we had been friends for years before we dated. To make it even better, his parents hated me, and I think that weighed heavily on him.

So, I was shocked.

Our original plan for Easter was casual, join a friend of D’s for dinner. I was happy and a little nervous just to meet this friend, but looking forward to it. Then on Tuesday, D texts me this:

D: Church on Sunday.

ME: What about it?

D: You are going.

ME: Alright.

D: Well you don’t have to…

ME: I am happy to go, just tell me when and where.

D: We need to be there at 9:45, I was thinking I’ll stay at your place Saturday night and we can go together.

ME: Sounds good.

D: good, they are excited.

ME: Who is “they”?

D: Parents.

ME: GAH.

D: What?

ME: Nervous.

When we hung out later that night, I asked D what kind of church it was. Baptist.

Yeah, just sit on that for a moment. Considering I’m a (barely) functioning alcoholic, have committed adultery, and have had an abortion, I was picturing this lovely church going up in flames upon my entrance on Easter Sunday. Hmph.

Then, I asked him, “Is it just church, or…” and he quickly told me no, we would be going to his parents’ for lunch afterward. Then, he dropped one final bomb on me—I’d be meeting his brothers, too, and their families.

YIKES.

After picking out a dress for church, I was ready to roll come Sunday morning (I didn’t drink much Saturday night and went to bed early so I’d be bright-eyed).

We drove to church, which was packed of course, and met his parents and one of his brothers. I’ll just say it so it’s out there… his dad is pretty hot.

Anyway, we go into the church and it’s a concert. No, seriously. There was a singer and a microphone and the lights were off, minus colorful spotlights on the stage. There was a drum set and guitar players and flat screens with the words on them, because the songs they were singing were original songs about Jesus, not the ones we all know.

While I’d never seen anything quite like this at a church, I was thankful that it wasn’t quite and awkward, complete with Bible verse readings. We were sitting in metal folding chairs in the very back row, an usher had guided us to our seats, and moved us twice already. A third time he came over, saying we needed to move one more time.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said. “It’s just that, they’re bringing a casket in, and it’s going to be a tight squeeze.”

A casket? I started to get sweaty.

They brought the casket in (it had deer antlers on it) to represent a modern-day tomb. When the pastor opened the casket, it was lined with camouflage. Ha.

After making it through the service, I had a short break from the parents during the drive to their house…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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