Imagine spending a nice romantic winter evening with the one you’ve decided to make yours.
The two of you are sitting in front of the fireplace drinking wine, or better yet vodka, and spending hours upon hours talking and getting to know one another on a more intimate level. As the night begins to creep into the wee hours of the morning and your head becomes clouded with the vodka, your partner is nothing short of a gentleman when he offers you pajama’s and his bed for the night while he sleeps on the couch. What a romantic intimate evening filled with laughter and pure innocent romance.
It’s every girls dream to be treated like a princess, to be catered to, to be loved, and most of all to be respected.
Unfortunately not every date goes like this. You don’t always end up with the perfect Norman Rockwell picturesque winter scene.
So, when I received this date in the mail I nearly pissed myself and I knew I had to share it.
Thank you to the anonymous writer who may or may not be from Virginia, South Carolina, or Rome.
The date was November. I can’t remember the exact date, but I know it was before Thanksgiving and after Halloween. The year? I don’t really remember that either. It was November though and I do know it was the weekend before Thanksgiving.
So, the date was late November and I had been dating this guy, Keith. He was tall, handsome, and he had these green eyes that were almost cat like. We had only been on a handful of dates and we had yet to wrinkle the sheets, if you know what I mean. We were both fresh out of college and just starting to find our paths in life, so settling down was the last thing on our minds.
The last few dates we had been on I had been getting the feeling that he wasn’t all that into me anymore. Or maybe it was me that wasn’t all that into him anymore, either way I didn’t think things would progress much further.
So I was a little surprised when Keith asked me to spend Thanksgiving with his family. He told me the details of their family Thanksgivings and I thought it sounded absolutely wonderful. He told me they spent the weekend before Thanksgiving at his grandparent’s cabin “eating, drinking, and being merry.” It truly sounded wonderful and a weekend away in a cabin sounded splendid, so I happily agreed.
The weekend was finally here and my nerves were shot to hell. Here I was about to meet this man’s whole family and I wasn’t even 100% sure I liked him. I was somewhere between 30% and 50% sure about him, those of us familiar with the dating know that unless it’s over 60% they aren’t really even worth our time.
The cabin was only a few hours away and it was quaintly nestled in a wooded area on the side of a mountain. It was absolutely beautiful and I couldn’t believe his grandparents owned this. As terrible as it sounds my first thought was “hm, there must be some money in his family somewhere.” Which made me a little more keen to the idea of him and at this point I was about 40% sure of him.
As we ascended up the steps to the front door my heart began pounding. I wanted nothing more than to retreat to the car and go home. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I wanted so badly to be in the comfort of my own home. What was I thinking when I agreed to this?
We walked in and we were instantly greeted by his lovely grandmother. She was everything you would picture a grandma being. She was short and white haired and she smelled like a familiar Avon perfume, perhaps it was Vanilla Musk. She was beautiful, even her wrinkles were beautiful; they gave her the appearance of a full happy life. She grabbed my hand and immediately pulled me into a warm embrace and for a second I almost forgot she was a complete stranger.
I went to meet the rest of the family and they were all just as kind as his grandmother. His mother was a little cold, but I figured with time she would warm up to me.
The first night came and went and his mother insisted we sleep in two separate rooms which wasn’t surprising in the least. He slept on the couch, like a gentleman, and he gave me the spare bedroom.
Day two was the “Feast Day” as his family called it. The ladies spent all day in the kitchen cooking. I thought I would be exempt from this task seeing that I was a guest, but that wasn’t the case. The minute the sun peeked over the horizon his mother was in my room waking me up to “help prepare.” I was pissed.
“Feast Day” turned into the longest day ever. His mother critiqued everything I did from the way I stirred the mashed potatoes to the way I talked. I’d had about enough of this pretentious woman. She was rude and cold and I wanted to go home and crawl back in bed.
“Feast Day” quickly turned into “Fiasco Night.”
The meal had ended and we were all sitting around the living room in front the fire talking and drinking. One by one everyone started to head to bed. Before long it was just me and Keith, this was the first time we had been alone since we stepped foot in the door.
Keith went on and on about how he felt I assimilated to his family so well and I handled his mother’s criticism like a champ. We began laughing and for the first time since our first date I was actually having a good time with him.
We continued drinking and one thing led to another and before we knew it we were butt ass naked. It wasn’t but 2 minutes later when I heard a woman clear her voice. We jumped up, covered our privates and immediately all hell broke loose. His mother was screaming at me and him, but mostly me. She woke up the whole cabin, even sweet Grandma, who even at 1 a.m. still smelled like Vanilla Musk, the woman must have bathed in it.
10 minutes later his mom was still screaming. She quickly pivoted and we were face-to-face, she grabbed my arm and pulled me off the couch, and I was absolutely still naked. She yanked me towards my room and told me I needed to pack my things. So here was half popped and my boyfriend’s parents AND grandparents were watching me walk to my room with my ass cheeks swaying from side to side. That’s one hell of a Walk of Shame.
Keith ended up driving me home and dropping me off at my house at 3 in the morning. I was mortified and as I stepped out of the car, I didn’t know what to say to him. I turned around to say a simple “Thank You” and before I could get it out he put his hand up as if to stop me and he said “it’s probably best if we don’t talk anymore.”
I think this story was the best present I have ever given to my family. They still mention it at least once every Thanksgiving.