How I Met His Mother...

It is the morning after a big college party and everyone or those who actually got out of bed is walking to class hung-over. Students wear book bags slung halfway on their shoulders, sunglasses blocking the sun that never quite beamed this bright, and chugging water like they had just ran a 5K. Sneaking through the woods, still dressed in high heels, a bright pink party dress, and her less than perfect ponytail is the girl who did not quite make it home that night. She is performing what most students refer to as: the walk of shame.

Shane and I were most definitely boyfriend and girlfriend. We shared drinks, met each other’s friends and had a slight tolerance for each other’s bodily functions, but I had still not met his parents. Everyone knows that it is not about meeting his parents, it is about meeting his mother and sooner or later, every girl has to take this courageous stride. I cannot say that I had ever partaken in my very own walk of shame until the morning I met his mother.

While driving home one night from dinner I glanced out the window of his Ford pick-up truck and noticed a thin blanket of fog covering the fields. Pulling into his driveway butterflies formed in the pit of my stomach at the thought of meeting his parents. Fortunately for me, they were already in bed. We cuddled on the couch having to lie on our sides to keep from falling off. Shane wrapped his arm around my waist and we began to watch a movie. My eyes grew heavy as I was blinking every second. I had at least a 30 minute drive home and with the fog it would add additional time, but I could not leave his side. I also could not stay the night in his parent’s house. Imagining them waking up the next morning to a girl on their couch, nestled next to their son that they had never met was not how I had pictured it. I ended up falling asleep. An hour later I opened my eyes and squinted to see the credits scrolling up the screen. I jumped up as fast as I could and proceeded to leave. Then, the excuses came.

“It is too foggy out to drive home,” Shane said. “It is already so late and you are tired.”

This was all very true, however staying at his house was not an option. I was not going to be “that” girl.

“You can just stay here,” he said. “Other girls have stayed here before and my parents do not care.”

While his last remark brought up some questions to how frequent these girls stayed, I chose to overlook it. Somehow his lame excuses convinced me that just maybe his parents really did not care. Dressed in my black spandex pants and pink tank top that I had worn that day, I tiptoed past his parent’s bedroom, opened his door and we both climbed into bed. Not only were we sleeping in the same bed, we also closed the door. It never occurred to one of us that maybe the couch would have made for a more suitable sleeping arrangement. Oh young love...

The next morning the smell of freshly cooked bacon and the sound of eggs frying woke me up. I rolled over to discover Shane was nowhere to be found. Go figure. I looked over at the window and contemplated my escape. It would have been perfect if there was not one problem. The location of my keys was the kitchen table where everyone was participating in family breakfast. I was not about to just waltz out from behind this closed door after staying the night, and casually introduce myself.  I knew what kind of girl I was however his parents did not. Moving at the rate of a turtle, I fixed my hair and wiped the eyeliner from under my eyes not wanting to look leftover. I opened the door and stood for a complete five minutes, eyes closed imagining what would come next. I would get that “look”; the one that comes across as nothing but a pure judgment of character. The look where his mom’s eyes would travel from the tip of my spandex pants all the way to my sloppy bun, the up-down. I took one step forward and the floor boards creaked. Only I have this kind of luck. There was no turning back now. As I rounded the corner I just stood there. Shane’s mom, step-dad and Shane sat, forks filled with eggs pressing to their lips. Everyone kind of froze which was such an awkward moment. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat and managed to say,

“Hi, I’m Liz.”

His mother and step-dad smiled, introduced themselves and told me to take a seat. As I was cautiously walking to the table, Shane said it; the three words I will never forget.

“Walk of shame,” he said.

My face turned bright red and the eggs on the table could have possibly been cooked on my forehead as I could feel the heat beating off of it. I knew he was kidding; however I had no idea how his parents would take his witty comment. I was in utter shock. The look on his mom’s face was that exact look I had just been thinking about.

“Wow I really won your mom over now,” I thought.

 Feelings of coming across the table and ringing Shane’s neck flashed through my head, but I did not think that would be appropriate. Still no one said anything which made for awkward moment number two.

Miraculously Shane and I survived that incident and his mother has gotten to know the real me. She explained to me that it was Shane who she was mad at that day; for disrespecting not only me, but her as well. She knew he was kidding, but did not want either one of us thinking our slumber party was acceptable.

After a more than humiliating personal introduction to my boyfriend’s parents, I offer you this advice. Meet your significant other’s parents, especially his mother before cuddling up in his bed for a sleepover and do not be the girl walking across campus reeking of last nights festivities, still in the party dress you wore the night before.