It’s hard sometimes, to want people to like you. You pride yourself on not caring anymore, doing your own thing, fuck you guys, blah blah blah. And then you have to spend a week in a beach vacation town with his parents and three siblings and you remember what high school felt like. Be funny, be smart, what did it mean when his father said that thing to you about it not being World War 3 when you were putting on bug spray? You couldn’t read his tone. And why didn’t his sister ask you if you wanted to see the pictures she took of the seagull on the pole but she asked everyone else? Are you being optimistic enough? Cynical enough? Are you being yourself? “Who won?” his mother asks about whatever board game you played that night, and is she asking to make conversation, or because she wants to know if you can ever win a single goddamn game of smarts and strategy against her genius children so she can know if you’ll breed well with one of them? (You didn’t win. You never won. Your children will be half stupid.) Just answer their questions. No, you didn’t play a sport in high school. No, you don’t cook. No, you don’t know about that thing they’re talking about.
Mention a time you had a similar experience. Make a joke. When no one laughs, say, “Just kidding” to clarify you were, in fact, just kidding. Make a serious suggestion. When no one hops on board, act like it was a joke. Be quiet. Be talkative. Get in every family photo. Offer to take every family photo. Laugh politely. When you can’t hear what’s been said, practice reading peoples’ faces so you know what expression to put on your own.
Dread the last day. The day where you’ll have to decide on handshakes or hugs (after all, his father is so much taller than you. Will you nestle your forehead into his Polo-covered chest cavity?), where you’ll have to express your profound thanks for the plane ticket, the place to sleep, the countless meals, the putting up with you even though you’re just a stranger who their son or brother happens to like. Know that no matter what happens, there will be a lifetime of this. Go back to reality and wait for round 2.
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lowlog reblogged this from lovestampede and added:
her boyfriend’s family. I love...Emma’s stuff. Is Emma my favorite writer? Here are
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