So, this year, first time ever, I’m bringing the b/f home to “meet the parents”…
We’ve been dating for a year and a half, and have had some ups and downs. Since mom is a major source of emotional support to me, I spend some deal of time crying to her on the phone about our arguments- this being the case, I feel like she’s now somewhat prejudiced against him, having heard all the messiness that’s gone on.
But she says they’ll be gracious, welcome him in, cook food he likes, etc., but I’ve never done this before! I’m very nervous. It’s obvious that the b/f is nervous, too.
If people have stories to share about going through this experience, it would be helpful! Was it ever a disaster? Did it go particularly smoothly? Any tips?
The first time I took Mr Bathsheba home, my mother threw her plate of dinner at my father. It travelled the length of the table, passed me and Mr Bathsheba at eye level, and hit my father square in the head.
My parents have always liked my now-husband, but that didn’t stop him from humiliating himself in front of them the first time he stayed with me at their house. He and I were sitting on stools in the kitchen, chatting with Mom while she was doing something, and mr emilyforce picked up a wine-stopper-vacuum-pump thingy and played with it idly. After a few minutes of handling it, he set it on his cheek (face cheek, not butt cheek, thank goodness) and pumped the handle once or twice. He got a nice firm seal on his face, too. You have never seen a more impressive hickey: perfectly round, angry purpley-red, and the size of a quarter.
The topper, though, was that a few minutes later, after the laughing and pointing and making-fun-of had died down, he gave himself another one – this time on his belly. :smack:
When I met my ex’s mom, we hit it off so beautifully that when he and I broke up, she and I remained friends. And she’s really not fond of his new girl (er, his wife actually) now either.
So, while it didn’t quite work out for the Presenter (the boyfriend) it worked just fine for the Presented (me) and the Receiver (mom)!
Went to Meet The Parents and have dinner at their house.
When dinner was almost over, I suddenly realized that I was (1) arguing at the dinner table, (2) about politics, (3) with my SO’s father. The trifecta of What Not To Do, Especially When “Meeting The Parents”. I just about died on the spot.
Fortunately he loved to argue and had started it on purpose, and his family was used to it.
My dad met my (now) husband in a strip club.
(I had to post just for the chance to say that)
They were both attending my uncle’s bachelor party. My folks met my boyfriend before I did.
My mother’s mother didn’t like her boyfriend. She said he was skinny and had long hair and therefore must be on drugs. He was stupidly getting an education in electronics instead of getting a sensible and well paying steel mill job like all the other high school graduates in the area. When they feuded, my mom moved back in with her mother, who took her in on the condition that she never see her boyfriend again. She couldn’t stay away - she snuck out of the house to date him anyway and wound up pregnant. When they told her they were getting married she threw a fit, threw them out of the house, and threw an ashtray at their heads with the parting words, “It’ll never last five years!”
They’ve been married for 31 so far.
If you’ve got the time before the big meeting, have a heart to heart with your mother and point out that while you may vent to her about your SO’s shortcomings, he’s really not such a bad person. Point out that sometimes you just need a safe person to vent to. I know I tend to vent about my spouse to my mother, so now and then I try to mention some positive things about the poor guy. Also, if at all possible have a way to shorten the visit if things get too terribly awkward. (hopefully without getting an ashtray thrown at you)
Every single time I’ve met the parents of a GF, things always went great. No problems even once. And my parents have always warmly welcomed whoever I was dating. Maybe it has something to do with the kinds of women I tend to date.
The first time one of my sister’s boyfriends came to a family gathering at Thanksgiving, he locked himself in an upstairs bathroom. He had closed an inner sliding door that nobody had closed for years. He spent quite a while gently knocking on the door, hoping that my sister and only my sister would hear him and come to the rescue. No such luck.
My parents met my wife after we were engaged. They were in San Diego, I was in Louisiana, and she was in Philadelphia, so it wasn’t all that easy to arrange. No problems, except they automatically put us together in the same room, which offended my wife’s propriety to an extent. My parents were cool.
I met my wife’s parents long before this, only a few months after we met each other. She was in Williamsburg, home in Philly, I was in Cambridge, home in NY, so we were closer to each other when we went home for spring break. Her father asked me what my prospects were. Since I was in MIT studying computer science, this was not a hard question to answer. The best part was that he was a composer/music teacher, so my prospects were better than his. She was ready to hide under the table, but I was fine with it.
All our parents like each other and our choices, so things worked out just fine.
While I know and understand your mom is your support, be careful about calling her and telling her about the fights. Moms and dads are all about protecting their kids, or so I am told (I don’t have any).
I was seeing a guy for about a year and while we had more downs then ups, I constantly bitched to my mother. Cried to her and because I told her all the “bad” stuff and none of the good stuff, she came to dislike him extremely before even meeting him. (Actually she has never met him. She refuses too.)
Fast forward 5 years, The same guy has come back into my life. While he has grown up a lot some areas, the mention of his name my mother shuts down. Standing up for him or trying to tell her of the good times we are creating, she says I am only doing it to try to change her opinion of him.
She won’t allow him in her house and neither will my sisters. So if we were to attempt another try at this, we are already getting negative comments from my family.
My husband took me to meet his parents at a family reunion, which horrified me. It was fine, except for the way his mom kept dropping hints about weddings.
He met my folks when they came to my place to visit. They promptly hit it off, except for this moment:
DangerGuy: “You’re from Bakersfield? My mom’s best friend lives there, her name is *****.”
My Dad: “Oh. Yeah. Her husband was the lawyer that sued my parents while my dad was dying.”
(It was a frivolous lawsuit, too, totally unnecessary and pointless, and he kept moving the court date.)
When my parents met his parents, DangerGuy’s dad talked for a couple of hours about their other son and how great he was. My FIL’s talent for talking about random and inappropriate topics amounts to a near superpower–no matter who you are, he’ll buttonhole you and talk about exactly the wrong thing. He once caught my SIL (my own brother’s wife) and talked for an hour about hunting. He doesn’t hunt, he doesn’t own a gun, and she’s a vegetarian who thinks hunting is horrible. For the first few years that we were married, every time we saw him, he would bring up that dang lawyer and his stupid lawsuit that screwed up my grandfather’s last days–he thought it was a great joke–which never failed to put me into a murderous rage.
I’m gonna jump in the camp that suggests sharing the good times.
Just from the OP I get the impression that the relationship is defined more by the fights and tears than the good times and happiness.
Now, I’m sure you’re going to jump on me and tell me that’s not the case, which is my point. Your mom doesn’t know this anyways. BrknButterfly is perfectly correct to sum up her post by saying “tell her about the good times”.
The first time my parents met my boyfriend, we were in college. I lived a couple hours from home, and we went to see my parents on a weekend. My dad was a naturally very quiet type. He didn’t initiate conversation much, man of few words, etc., but that’s just how he was. My mom and I nearly had to put our jaws back in our heads when my dad struck up a conversation with BF, as they were sitting in the living room. I think we even stuck our heads around the corner to confirm what was happening. Meanwhile, BF thinks nothing of it as he didn’t know what my dad was like, and I have to explain to him later that he apparently scored big in points. Dad even suggested skipping church on Sunday (he was quietly devout, and placed importance on church attendance) to go to the zoo to take advantage of the nice weather.
Dad died a couple years later; he didn’t live to see me, his elder child, graduate from college or go on to marry that boyfriend he took a shine to so quickly. But I always remembered how Dad would open up and talk easily around the man I was to marry, and thinking about that on my wedding day, I felt like Dad was there to watch.
Some girlfriends ago, back when I was about 17, my SO at the time introduced me to her mother. I was pretty nervous as this was my first “proper” relationship and being into the whole grunge thing at the time I realised I didn’t exactly look like a good catch.
Anyway, the first meeting seemed to go OK. Her adoptive mum was a bit offish but I just thought “I’m here for the daughter, not her mum”.
Fast forward a few weeks and I discovered that mum and daughter fought like cat and dog. I happened to be present during one of the arguments and her mum tried to call me in on her side. It was something trivial and I just said (politely) that “I don’t really think I can say anything about this”. Her mums response was to call me a bastard. She then started on shitbag, waster, idiot - the whole nine yards.
My parents had just been through a rather nasty divorce and I’d developed both a thick skin and the ability to hold a perfect poker face. So she was bellowing in my face - think of the drill instructor in Full Metal Jacket - and I was just standing there with a lovely serene expression. It ended up with both of them slamming doors and me being led away by my girlfriend.
A couple of weeks later I was back around. My gf had been gone 15 minutes and left me with the dog (who kept trying to fellate himself but thats another post) when they both walked in. Her mum walked up to me and said - this is verbatim - “I apologise for calling you a bastard. GF has told me she’s met your father so clearly you aren’t a bastard”.
The most excellent, technically perfect yet woefully lacking apology I have ever received. She truly was a master!
