I finally called Mr. Granola back and we set up a meet and greet type dinner. A very causal meeting, we drove separately (always a good idea for a first date) and paid separately too. Looking back it kind of seemed like an interview. There were a series of questions on both sides, no real emotion, and kind of awkward. But when I got back to my car, I got a text message from him that changed my entire opinion of the date. “I had so much fun. Can’t wait to see you in class. Maybe dinner Friday?” It was simple, tasteful and sweet. And so, we would have dinner the following Friday.
Now I really only remember snippets of the night. I remember arguing with my mom about whether I should wait for him at the door or run out to his car. She was intent on meeting him which meant I had to stay inside. He was good with the parents. He walked up and introduced himself and then we went to the movie and dinner.
When the movie was over we got back into Mr. Granola’s car. There was an awkward pause that I didn’t quite understand. He wasn’t turning his car on and I was cold. I wanted the heater on and I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Mr. Granola looked at me for a second as if he was trying to figure out the conversation I was having with myself in my head. Then he looked at his steering wheel, and let out a huge sigh. Crap, he was going to give me the “we’re better as friends” speech. I looked over expecting excuses of incompatibility to pour out of his mouth but instead he grabbed the back of my head, pulled it towards him and kissed me. Then he pulled back and said, “Okay good, well we got that over with.” I was stunned; I was not expecting it at all. But after that, we were inseparable.
Everyone at school knew we were an item. It happened immediately. I felt like I didn’t really have a say in it but I didn’t care because if I did, I wouldn’t change it! I loved it. I loved having someone who cared about me and wanted to be seen with me. I fell for him quickly. But then I met the parents.
This shouldn’t be a breaking point but when the boy lives at home, the parents are something you have to deal with on a continual basis. I was brought home for a dinner. I’ve never had problems with parents. I generally come off as the sweet, innocent, girl next door. Hell, I was second runner up for “Easiest to take home to Mom” as a Senior Superlative.
We went grocery shopping to pick up forgotten items for dinner. When we got to his house, he immediately grabbed the bag I was carrying from me before we walked in. I shot him a questioning look. He answered with, “My mom is very traditional, she’d be mad at me for letting you carry something.” I thought that was stupid.
We walked through the door and I was greeted by a bubbly blonde lady. She was very thin and from my first impression, very image conscious (she later informed me she had gotten BoTox that morning). Mr. Granola introduced me to his itty bitty mother. She seemed very nice. However, after three minutes of speaking with her, she asked, “Now from your accent its obvious you aren’t from around here. Where are you originally from?” This town is such a transplant city that no one ever seems to know where anyone is from and if you live within the actual city, no one has a Southern accent. So this question caught me off guard.
I told her about my northern roots to which she replied, “Oh you’re a Yankee.”
After that, she never really spoke to me the same way. She was never mean but always fake. She addressed me in the “You’re-not-good-enough-for-my-son-but-I’ll-pretend-to-like-you-because-he-does” sort of way. And because of her unspoken disdain for me, she sabotaged a number of our dates and would do things like send her youngest son (he was a good 10 years younger than Mr. Granola) to spy on us when we were watching movies in the basement.
My relationship with his family was just a minor nuisance really. I couldn't be bothered by small things like this while I was falling in love.
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