Friday, February 15, 2008
The day I thought would
never come -- my son has brought
a boy to meet mom.
We meet for dinner
at our favorite hangout.
The Drama King sweats.
But there was no need.
The significant other
Oh my friends. This was the cutest thing ever.
Poor Drama King. As we approached the restaurant, we could see the two of them inside. DK ducked down, trying to hide.
But the boy? Stood right up with his hand extended and introduced himself. For purposes of blogland, we shall call him Rocky.
Good-looking. Intelligent. Witty. Attentive. Fun. Polite.
The only dowside I see here is that Mr. Rocky went to the wrong college. He went to the crosstown rival school that I was raised to hate hate hate. Think Texas and Oklahoma. Or Army and Navy. Or Superman and Lex Luthor.
You have to understand that my favorite college football teams are my alma mater and anyone who is playing that other hated place.
This is big, people. Big.
But I guess I'll get over it. Maybe.
Anyway, the meal went very well. They are adorable together. I was actually surprised at how publicly hands-on they were with each other. There was hugging. And under-the-table hand-holding. And loving looks between them.
DK was positively bubbly. So not the boy I have known for 24-plus years.
In the past, he has been my dark child. The one who swirled and reveled in his own misery. The one who had a way of screwing up every good thing that would come his way in favor of a more inappropriate direction. The one who felt cheated (well, he still does, but never mind that). The one who, quite frankly, I thought wouldn't live past his teen years -- either through lifestyle choices or by his own hand.
So to watch him blush and look at this young man with light in his eyes was ... well, heartwarming.
And to watch Rocky look back with the same look? Priceless.
Oh, and the title of this post? The barracuda dinner?
That comes from the first time that Wonderhubby and I had dinner with my parents. My parents need a post all unto themselves, but for now let us just say that they did not consider the first several times they had met him to be adequate. They needed to have dinner with us. We called it pirhana dinner for four.
We sat down at the table, food was served, my mother set down her fork, crossed her arms, looked at Wonderhubby and said these immortal words: "So, is that your real name or is it short for something?"
Pirhanas. No lie. It was a grilling. And he passed with flying colors, but that doesn't make it any less obnoxious.
Over the years we have joked about the pirhana dinner for four. All the kids know about it.
So when it was time to meet "the boy," DK figured that Wonderhubby and I weren't as bad as pirhanas and referred to it instead as the barracuda dinner.
And then I asked Rocky, "Is that your real name or is it short for something?"