Meeting the boyfriend 

My mother, my step father, add in myself and a new boyfriend, what do you get? Well you can pick from, finding both your parents stoned dancing around the living room or walking in on them having sex in the front garden hammock, or a room full of post-its? Not expecting the last option? Well, why would you? You’re relatively normal. When your boyfriend or girlfriend comes over for the first time, your parents have probably laid out tea and biscuits, or gone out for a meal? Yeah, I wish. So Timothy (we’ll call him that to protect his identity) comes over, this is the latest edition in a very short line of men that I’ve decided to bring home. In fact, I don’t even think if they all stood back to back it could be defined as a ‘line’ more like an obstruction on a really narrow pavement that you would have to manoeuvre around. He’s nice, tall, dark haired, greenish eyes. So my parents, being on their best behaviour, after many occasions of not being, decide we should go out for a meal. A little restaurant by the sea. Idyllic some might say. Beautiful views, lovely food and the company previously mentioned. All you could ask for. But of course with all of those things comes conversation, and this is where I’m sure you’ve noticed most social occasions seem to go from good to horrendous. Maybe that’s just me.

‘Darling, you never told me how handsome Timothy was, and his arms are so big, his hands look like they know what to do.’ We aren’t in the ladies; we haven’t gone to the bar. We are at the table. My mother is saying this to Timothy. She is stroking his hand. He deals with it well, the usual, ‘Oh Mrs Bentley haha’ bit pink in the face. I no longer get embarrassed, I just sigh, and ask Dad to pour me some wine, I don’t even drink!  Dad doesn’t beat around the bush, he goes directly for the balls, literally, ‘So Timothy, you’re having sex with my daughter, I hope you’re using protection. What is it you young kids say.’ Don’t say it. ‘No protection. No fornication’ Well that was actually quite refreshing! I feel at this point that I should save Timothy ‘Yes Father. Thanks for bringing that up.’ I’m now drinking from the bottle. Mother continues to stroke Timothy’s hand, and if I just, yep she is also stoking his leg with her foot. Dad is oblivious. Can I be drunk already? Or maybe I’m about to faint?

‘So darling, how’s work? My work is wonderful, been working so hard, haven’t I sweetie?’ Dad nods. Oh, sorry I didn’t say, mum’s work consists of coffee, tennis, more coffee, picking up the dog poo, and running around the garden screaming the two words I fear more than anything ‘processional caterpillar.’ ‘Yeah mum works going well, you know it can be hard work but …’ I’m interrupted by a noise that only dogs can hear, my mother’s screech. Dad is still oblivious ‘Well darling, you can’t get anywhere without hard work. I mean look at me, how do you think I got here?’ Hmm ohh I have so much that I could say, but to save the world from WW3 I refrain. ‘Yeah mum, I know, just got to keep working hard.’ ‘Yes sweetheart, but don’t forget to play hard’ she winks at me, the kind people do when they can’t wink, one whole side of her face lifts towards the sky, her head tilts to the right, mouth wide open. She laughs, dogs are howling everywhere.