Mr. Boy met the SlackParents on Thursday night. He went from Tulsa, to Dallas, to LAX to our house whereupon, after my protestations that SlackParents understood he had been flying all day and didn't expect him to come out, he changed his shirt and walked down to our agreed meeting place. Alas, our agreed meeting place has become quite the hit, and at 7:30pm on a Thursday night, it was already loud and packed. Which is perfectly swell for an evening out with Mr. Boy, but not exactly prime getting-to-know-you territory. We ordered drinks and stood at the bar, waiting when it hit me.
You're nervous? I asked.
Hell, yes he replied.
It hadn't occurred to me in all of this time that he'd be nervous at all. After all, my parents would love him because I loved him, although I wanted them to sit down and get a chance to know him as I thought they'd really like him. SlackMom already reads his blog. We're getting married, so it's not like there's some brand of approval that he needs in order for us to take such a serious step.
But I sat there watching him shift his weight from foot to foot and I couldn't help but be that much more charmed. I mean, of course he wanted to make a good impression. But well, he wanted to make a good impression. I told him he had nothing to worry about, and moments later younger slackbrother j. arrived with SlackParents in tow.
Alas, my worries came to light as it was too loud to have a decent conversation at the table, and Mr. Boy ended up chatting with only SlackMom for the rest of the night. He told me later I didn't talk to your dad, I need to talk to your dad. It was just so loud. Tomorrow I have to talk to your dad.
The next night I had planned for dinner at our other new favorite place, knowing that it would be quiet and we'd all have a chance to talk. Once again, though, I was wrong. Younger slackbrother j. and I conspired to seat Mr. Boy next to SlackDad, which we did. My plan was to mention that Saturday morning, Mr. Boy had his Fantasy Baseball Draft to steer the conversation to common ground.
The minute the word 'baseball' left my lips, Mr. Boy and SlackDad were off and running. The rest of the evening, they discussed baseball, football players-turned-actors, the history of Jesus and politics, leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves. At one point, I was able to interject something about the Colbert Report. SlackMom turned to me.
Did you just ask Will about the Colbert Report?
Yeah, we--
Are you horny?
I was speechless. SlackDad interrupted. What did you say?
Um, nothing. She said nothing, I told him.
It's something on her blog, SlackMom replied.
This is the reason I don't want to use the computer, SlackDad said, I choose to be willfully ignorant.
I think that's a good idea.
Mr. Boy and SlackDad continued their discussion, but at one point I was able to catch his eye and smile.
SlackDad caught me. Ah, you're smiling because of your weird parents. You're making fun of us.
I smiled again. Not exactly.
We wrapped up the evening and bid everyone goodbye.
I think that went well, Will told me in the car.
It couldn't have gone better, I told him.
With that we returned home, where I gave him something to really smile about.
