The Prowl: Meet the Parents, Beltway Edition
Because most people in D.C. have family elsewhere, dating in the District usually means a a special holiday ordeal: going to meet the parents.
Most people do not consider D.C. "home." Instead, they live there and then travel to wherever it is they are actually from for holidays. It takes a special breed to really reside in D.C., and a very special breed to actually settle for good. Last Christmas, I dated a boy who was a member of such a family. His father, a former Congressman, was an active member in conservative politics and his mother had worked in the Reagan Administration. While I was flattered that this boy thought enough of me to want me to meet his parents, I was nonetheless terrified. I imagined Meet the Parents-like scenarios wherein the liberal somehow lights the house on fire or commits some major faux pas (like pointing out that President Obama is not in fact a communist).
The boy I was seeing calmed me down by pointing out that he had met my parents and that had gone fine. My father had even subjected him to an elaborate explanation of "the plan." The plan is something my Dad came up with several years ago and traditionally alludes to at every family gathering. Essentially, he thinks we should start picking out which holiday we want to celebrate at random so that you never know which one you might get. Christmas could be on Halloween, Thanksgiving on Easter, and the Fourth of July on Columbus Day. This would add a much-needed element of surprise and whimsy to the festivities. If my boyfriend could handle taking in at length the details of "the plan" while my father attempted to be intimidating by sharpening knives and my mother fussed about which side of the chair one should sit down on, I could survive one night with some arch-conservatives. Plus, meeting the family is part of a holiday tradition and, well, he said he "sort of liked me" so we should see how this goes. My vote to skip the whole thing and do as they do in Japan and eat some KFC was summarily disregarded - a failed day for Democracy, I must say.
My biggest fear, when we rang the doorbell was that there would be some sort of secret conservative handshake that I wouldn't know and thus his parents would immediately dislike me. Instead his mother greeted me with a hug. This initially seemed strange for an older WASPy lady to show that much affection and engage in so much physical contact, but I guess she was in a festive mood and had likely had several glasses of spiked eggnog already. I felt somewhat relieved that I seemed to at least be on the so-so list with his mom, who was on a mission to explain to me the lengths she had gone to make their house appear "cheery." A 3-1 ratio of cranberries to popcorn on a string seemed to be involved, but it might have been something else entirely.
Having more or less been marginally approved by his mother, the next step was to get an okay from his father. I actually thought he was going to give me some sort of quiz or at the very least, some grilling on my conservative credentials. To me this would be more horrifying than any sort of discussion about "intentions" or future plans, or any of the usual awkward things that come up with parental introductions. I was also prepared for him to ask about my work for that well-known organization trying to undermine our traditional values: the DNC. I was ready for him to ask about my multi-cultural and internationalist tendencies. I had even practiced my polite face for questions about my parents, both of whom still toast the demise of Richard Nixon, on August 9th. What I did not account for was that this guy was a reasonable human being whose world involved more than political beliefs and opposition. He was perfectly capable of circumventing all controversial discussion items and being perfectly charming. Yes, he wanted to know about my background. Yes, he wanted to know about how I met his son and my professional goals and all sorts of other pleasantries. He did not once bring up Obamacare or suggest that I was personally ruining the country somehow.
After the evening, which in the end was lovely, I felt pretty silly. Why had I thought that he was going to declare me some sort of godless communist in a scene that may be reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition? The answer is obviously that I was deathly concerned that his parents would not be able to envision a place for me in their family. If my father did not like someone, I would decidedly reconsider him, and I was worried that this boy who came from such a different world would feel the same way. This feeling, combined with anxiety at finding an appropriate present, a little guilt for not being with my own family, and just general holiday-induced stress, all produced a sense of unease that made me temporarily suspend rational thought until I convinced myself that his father would actually make me write an exam. Luckily, holidays, at least in my somewhat sheltered experience, are also a time for merriment and togetherness and the possibility of creating new traditions. The boyfriend and I broke up several months after I met his parents for completely unrelated reasons (he does not believe an ice cream sandwich is in fact a sandwich), but spending Christmas with his family and being surprised at how welcoming they were, really was nice.
Merry Christmas!