There are a lot of stereotypical girlfriend things that I'm just not good at. I don't put on an apron, make a casserole and bake homemade cookies, for example. In fact, I don't even own an apron. I bought one once, and that night I got into a fight with the BF. It was right when we moved in together, and I remember I started to say, "I slaved over a hot stove for you and now you are picking a fight —" when I stopped myself, appalled. I was so ashamed that those cliched words had almost come out of my mouth that I took off the cute yet fashionable Anthropologie apron, threw it on the floor and made a silent oath with myself that I'd never purchase another one again.
I also don't clean the dishes, like, ever. I'm not neat and tidy. I don't wear a lot of
pink.... well, you get the idea. I'm not the perfect girlfriend in many ways. But if there's one thing I'm consistently GREAT at it's families. Not to brag, but usually, parents love me. I've never really embarrassed myself too badly in front of a BF's family before.
Well — there's a first time for everything right?
I recently stayed at the BF's aunt's house on a weekend where his grandparents were also in town. I'd met most of his family before, except for his aunt and uncle. We were all seated at the dinner table and chatting, when his grandmother started telling a story about when she was younger, and went shopping at a store in NJ:
"The sales associate walked right up to me and told me I couldn't afford to shop at their store. She refused to even help me look around."
Now, before you judge me, I want you to stop and think if this story sounds remotely familiar at all. Does it ring any bells for you? Because it definitely did for me. And before I could properly think about what I was about to say I blurted out:
"Oh! You were like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman!"
Stunned silence at the dinner table. Incredulously, the BF's aunt looks over at me and says, "Did you just call my mother a prostitute?"
Shit. When I think of Pretty Woman I of course just think of one of my favorite movies and one of my favorite actresses... but all of a sudden I realized, yes. I had in fact, just called the BF's beloved Mimi a whore.
Luckily Mimi and the rest of the family have a sense of humor, and laughingly poked fun at me a little before shrugging it off. Until, of course, later on when I jokingly berated a male dinner guest when he said something inappropriate towards women and I said "I'd be careful what you say, you are the only man here at a table full of girls." Oh right, except for my boyfriend who was sitting next to me and was mildly offended but mainly used it as an excuse to tell me I was on a roll.
When I said goodnight to Mimi she hugged me and whispered in my ear, "You have a lot of making up to do!" I figured she was referring to my faux pas about saying it was a room full of girls, and that the making up was to the BF and not to her after implying she was a prostitute. Which was less worrisome, although a tad more disconcerting. But maybe I just have an inappropriate mind.
Before going to bed, Mimi handed me a 17-page-story the BF's younger cousin had written, and asked me to read it and give her my opinion, since I'm an esteemed professional writer and everything. (Ok, I might have exaggerated that last part).
I came downstairs the following morning and as the family was getting breakfast together Mimi asked me, in front of everyone, what I thought of the story.
Absentmindedly, I answered, "Oh, I fell asleep after reading the first page."
In Yogi Berra's words — it was like deja vu all over again. Everyone looked at me in silence for half a second, before I realized what I had just said.
"No! Sorry!! I didn't mean — it's not that I feel asleep because the writing was so boring! I meant, I was really tired so I tried to start reading it but wanted to dedicate my full attention to it today, so I put it down..."
But it was no use. The damage was done.
"Do you always say such malapropisms?" the BF's aunt asked me.
No, not usually. But like I said, there's a first time for everything — even personally insulting the writing of a 12-year-old to her face, in front of her entire family.
And of course, calling your boyfriend's grandmother a hooker.
I was getting a little restless cooped up working from home in my NYC apartment so I decided to quit my job and move across the world to Sydney, Australia. (I've always been a little bit drastic in my actions... Surprising coming from someone as chilled out and drama-free as me, I know.) As of now I am pursuing an endless summer and plan on returning to the northern hemisphere in May just in time for the hot weather. I'm taking my blog with me and moving it over to www.nothongsallowed.com in order to collect all of my Australian adventures in one place complete with pictures of all the fun I'm having. The photographs are intended to enduce envy so please, stalk away.
