"Meet the Parents"

Annie Aho

With the winter now upon us, those with a significant other in their life might be forced to spend the holidays in unchartered territory – with their family.

There have been movies and songs about awkward holiday meetings, and to be honest, I always had a chukle at the uncomfortable person's expense. However, now that I am about to meet a room full of strangers the laughing has stopped and shivers are running down my Christmas sweater.

I was placed in this predicament over Thanksgiving, with the knowledge that whether it went well, or poorly, I would have to see them again, all of them, for Christmas.

I have been dating a gentleman for about eight months and according to him, it is about time I meet his family. I am about to enter the world that Ben Stiller explored in his 2004 theatrical rendition of meeting the significant other's family called “Meet the Parents.” [img_assist|nid=635|title="Meet the Parents"|desc=|link=node|align=left|width=300|height=224]

This is my experience mixed with a bit of insight and advice when meeting the parents.

Here I sit. Its 22 degrees outside and my cigarette is dwindling down to a stub. I look up at him. His 6’7", 300-pound frame is shielding my park bench from the wind, and he’s showing his concern.

“Nothing can be worse than ice-fishing,” he says with a shiver and a playful nudge.

I light another.

And he adds with a smirk, “Nothing can be worse than spending the whole Thanksgiving weekend at your parents.”

I roll my eyes and take a long drag.

He continues with his hand stretched out, “Ya’ know, you're going to have meet them sometime.”

I nod, put out my cigarette and make the sign of the cross as I enter the Veteran of Foreign Wars (VFW) meeting hall in Randall, Minnesota.

Most people, I am told, meet the family one or two members at a time. I met both sides of his family in one afternoon, all 125 members in three hours.

The VFW was maxed out. Strange faces were everywhere, and the only one I recognized had left me to mingle. This was my proverbial nightmare – a room full of people, bad lighting and a bar stocked solely with Budweiser, I mean not even Bud Lite.

The small town, a population of about 500, had doubled with his family. With a can in hand, I wandered the walls cluttered with photos of veterans, trying to find a bar of reception for my cell phone.

I sat down, unsuccessful and scared. I was stuck and my only lifeline had disappeared. I looked around, whimpering, my boyfriend was gone and I was contemplating sacrificing my mascara and false lashes to sobbing, when a small voice stopped me in my tracks.

It was my boyfriend’s two-year-old niece asking me for help sneaking a piece of cake. I aided in the plot to spoil her dinner, and in the process she saved my Thanksgiving.

As I held her little hand, I saw the unfamiliar faces transform into smiling family members, the laughter became infectious and the cold that I still harbored from outside began to leave my black satin dress. I could sit by myself, alone, or I could take the candy cane out of my ass and join the festivities.

Yes, they were not my family, and true I was in a VFW, but there was love so thick not even the carving knife for the turkey could cut through it.

The moment I opened myself up, people opened up to me. I came as a stranger, but after three hours of introductions and a few spilled beers, I left as family.

My experience has produced a list of three things I wish I had known when I arrived.

1. Confidence – You’re the one loved enough to be invited – know that. If you arrive with both arms stretched out for a hug and a cheek ready for kisses, you instantly become a crowd favorite.

2. Comfort – Never leave your better half alone. Hold his or her hand until they let go, even if this means you’re forced into looking like you're running a three legged race.

3. Consideration – This is their family not yours, regardless of whether or not you come to a point where you share their last name. Understand that they might be nervous around you, and you might be forced into making the first move – even if it’s towards the bar.