In less than two weeks I will be in [BF’s Motherland] for two weeks. That’s where BF’s family currently lives. Since we’ve been dating for over a year, live together, will probably enter the marriage cult, it’s time I flew across the ocean to meet his family. Or rather, it’s time they met ME.
I’m not at all worried about meeting his family. I’m a fucking charmer. Everyone loves me, especially parents. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve worked the parents. At the age of ten, my best friend’s mother thought I was an excellent influence on her daughter. And yes I was–we ran around naked and put things in our shirts pretending they were boobs and then one of us would but a bottle in our underwear to look like a penis and we’d start rubbing against each other on the bed. I was an excellent influence.
BF’s parents sound completely normal. They have their issues, but frankly anyone who doesn’t have some sort of abuse/addiction problem seems a bit odd to me. Our destructive behaviours are what make us interesting. People read my blog because of my sex-machine nature, depression, fucked-up sense of humor, and inappropriate sexual escapades. I’m not going to pretend that you love me for my personality.
The parents I am not concerned with. I am, however, worried about internet access and keeping up my blog. From what I’ve heard, they only have DIAL UP INTERNET. –keels over and starts sucking thumb while in fetal position– How can I be expected to work with these conditions?
Sure, there are internet cafes, but BF says the ones there are lame and besides we’re staying with his family who live an hour outside the city. Aaccckkkkk. I might as well just tack hand-written notes to messenger birds and hope they don’t eat the paper out of starvation while flying across a fucking ocean and then end up pooping out my precious toiled-over thoughts and witticisms, only to be eaten by one-eyed fish. What a miserable end to such a good blog beginning.
BF’s sister is the person I am most anxious and worried about meeting. I suspect she is the one whose approval I must seek, since the sister is the only family member he ever talks about unprompted. She’s my age, has my same sense of humor (half the photos I’ve seeen of her she is grotesquely sticking out her tongue, which is same immature behavior I regularly exhibit in front of a camera), similar artistic sensibility, and has loads of dirt on what BF was like as an older brother.
The sister is the one I must befriend. In fact, we sound so alike that it’s quite possible I will ditch BF and start dating his sister. I’ve always wondered it would be like to date myself. From what I’ve been told I’m a bit of a drama queen, which I doubt. Or can even you blog readers tell I’m a drama queen and you’re currently on the floor laughing and pissing yourself because you think my state of denial is so fucking funny?
Now there’s the marriage issue. It came up a dozens times during the wedding this weekend (which I still haven’t written about, so yes I admit to my total suckage), every time I saw a relative above the age of eighteen. Being from a huge Catholic family, that meant I didn’t stumble from the table to the margarita machine without getting intercepted twice to be asked “Are you and BF going to be the next wedding we attend?” I know what they really mean is “we know you’re living together in sin and copulating in sin and doing all sorts of sinful things while committing those sins, so you should at least have the courtesy of having your relationship approved in the eyes of God eventually, and the rest of our judgmental family who are far more likely to be the ones who strike me dead. Bloody hell.
Although I expect BF’s family to be more tactful and at least have the courtesy of boozing me up before the interview of “when will you be our daughter-in-law and how much time do I have to sew a baby quilt and knit booties?” Don’t mind me, I’ll be the one hiding under the bed suckling on a blanket. I AM NOT READY FOR MARRIAGE. I AM IMMATURE AND IRRESPONSIBLE, I THOUGHT THIS WAS CLEAR.
Every time a relative at the wedding asked me about my non-existent wedding, I said something like “oh I’m not ready yet” or “give me a couple years, I want to get my career settled first” or “go pick on cousin Brian, he’s older and still single, he might even be homosexual, you’d better go talk to him about the Bible.”
BF later told me he was also repeatedly grilled, and he gave the standard answer “I’m waiting till she gets a job so I can save up money to buy a ring.” Then during the garter toss (was it a conspiracy??) the groom threw the blue lacy garter directly to my boyfriend. Aw bloody hell.
The bouquet toss was next, which I tried to hide from behind a big piece of chocolate cake, but three aunts pushed me into the middle of the group of otherwise giggly gaggle of girls. The bride, being my cousin and longest friend, threw it at me but goddamnit, my silly hands stayed right at my side, making it easy for another bridesmaid to catch it instead. As I walked back to the tables, a row of relatives scoffed at my apathy and said despite my foul attitude I was destined to get married anyway.
BF spent the rest of the night with the lacy blue garter proudly displayed on his arm, trying to keep me upright as I drank champagne directly from the bottle and tried to figure out what was wrong with me for being so afraid of marriage.
In a drunken stupor later that night I threw my arms around BF (champagne in hand) and told him “You know I want to marry you. Just not now. I’m not ready. But I will. Later.” I’ve told him before my fear has nothing to do with him, it’s the marriage concept that scares me. Hell, before BF I didn’t even consider marriage, ever. BF is so damn sweet and nice and considerate that he’s gotten me to warm up to the idea. It may be ten years before I’m warm enough to say yes, but I’ll get there eventually. Just too bad that’s not the answer I can tell his parents.
