We had only gone out on a single date, albeit a wonderful evening. Our introduction came on Saturday afternoon. In a very short time, I was captivated by this young lady and knew I wanted to ask her out. That, in and of itself, is a shock to some people who know me. I’m the shy one. I’m the quiet one. I don’t ask young ladies out on dates. I think about it. Without question I have thought more than a few days away dreaming about it. But to actually take the bold step. To actually take the chance. Well, it simply doesn’t happen.
Sunday afternoon I asked her out. It was… unromantic. In fact, for a man who prides himself on his ability to communicate, for a man who takes his words and writes them with such care and consideration, looking back I can’t help but think I could have done better. “Miss [name removed for the sake of my physical well being]… you amuse me and I think you need to let me take you out for coffee this week.” Even as I type the sentence, I hang my head in shame, but still with a bit of a grin. One day, should this story ever be made into a book or a movie, I’m definitely going to have to rewrite that line!
She said yes. At the end of the day, I suppose this is all that matters. A glass half empty person would reflect on the exceptionally unpoetic way in which the proposal was phrased. A glass half full person – who may or may not have done a fist pump into the air – smiles at his good fortune and spends the days before their meeting working on better lines.
In today’s society, where so many are raised in broken homes, it would seem that little significance is now placed on meeting the parents of the person whom you choose to date. Sometimes there is one parent. Sometimes there are no parents. Sadly, in so many cases, it seems that two parents under the same roof are the exception rather than the rule. I think it’s for this reason that it doesn’t seem to be tradition, if you will, as it once was.
Being a bit of an old soul – or so I’ve been called in the past – I still believe that it’s very important to meet a young ladies parents. I believe that a gentleman has nothing to hide and therefore, nothing to fear, from meeting Mom and Dad. Don’t get me wrong. It is still more intimidating to me than when I’m staring down the mesmerizing glow and excruciating heat of a structure fire; but as I always say, sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good.
If you told me that I’d be meeting the parents exactly one week to the day of my first contact with this young lady, I would have politely cast you aside as fruit nut, and went about the business of my day. While it’s true that I am all for meeting, and including the parents, I was a little caught off guard to have it happen so fast. As I sat in my apartment on the fateful Saturday one week later I found myself frequently checking my pulse, and there may have been a blood pressure check once as well. My official story will, of course, always be that it was practice for the Fire Department.
The clock ticked louder that day. I know this because I haven’t a clock that ticks anywhere in my home, but I’m convinced that I heard one knocking off each passing second – so it must have been louder. I confess that I relived every bad thing that happened to Ben Stiller (aka Gaylord Focker) as he welcomed Robert DeNiro (Jack Byrnes) into his life. I lowered myself off the couch, and on bended knee I prayed to God that there would be no urn on the mantle, no cat named Jinx, and with more fervor than perhaps I’ve ever displayed, I prayed that there would be no lie detector test conducted by a Florist formerly employed by the CIA.
Few gentleman had been brought home to meet the parents, or so the story this young lady told me, goes. Being a classic over-thinker, I could only assume such a fact was true because the thought of the pending interrogation proved to be too much for those that had come before me, and they simply bowed out gracefully before ever making it to this stage. In the midst of my poorly disguised panic, my captivating young lady – with her eyes the colour of a clear summer sky – explained to me that the bar was set very low by those that came before me; though this gave me little comfort.
“Stay awake.” Those were my instructions. “As long as you don’t fall asleep while they’re talking to you… they’ll like you.”
“But it’s Saturday,” I cried, “I sleep A LOT on Saturday’s. Sometimes I can’t help myself.” My concerns were genuine, though in reflection, mostly ridiculous and possibly brought about as a result of panic and an elevated heart rate.
My captivating young lady, whose smile douses my fear like an inch and a half combat line douses flames, was confident I could pull it off. It is true that I sleep a lot on Saturday. It is true that, in the past, I have fallen asleep in random places (refer to the above photo). But today I was on mission. Today, my objective was earn the privilege of a second date. Today was Saturday, and it was time to meet the parents!
Epilogue
On Friday I will see my captivating young lady for the 4th time. Not only did I manage to stay awake, but it would seem that I may have even managed to impress. This, dear friends, is evidence to the power of prayer! ;-)
Add A Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.