People, there is a strong possibility that I don’t know exactly what I’m doing in my life.
I know, that’s probably fucking shocking news to most of you out there. I most certainly don’t fly around by the seat of my pants or anything. Ever.
However, back here in reality where I don’t have a clue what in the actual fuck that I’m doing with myself, I’ve decided that since I have spent all those years atoning, I now deserve a real live relationship. Complete with a dude way the fuck out of my league.
That’s not even me joking. I’m dead ass serious.
So, with the holidays starting their shit, I was asked to attend Thanksgiving at his parents home. Yes, I said parents, as in both. I didn’t even know that this was really still a thing, but I checked with BMan, and he said other people beside his parents stayed married, so I thought I would go see how it happened in real life.
It was much different from my own family gatherings. Usually me shitfaced drunk by 11am just so I could deal with the level of trauma I was about to undergo, my family with their sideways jokes, and ever present judgment. Never a good time, yet I tortured myself attending until my mid 30’s. I wasn’t too quick in those days, and the learning process was like January molasses for me.
We went. They were nice. It was peaceful. The end.
I don’t know how I feel about the level of normal that I am among. I feel very beige. I feel very…unusual in a sea of usual. As though I am some sore thumb. As though I am some solid color shirt in a proverbial sea of Waldo stripes. I’m not blending, why aren’t I blending?
I have learned throughout my life to fit in while visiting the Joneses. I am, after all, a former Belle myself. I know when to bite my tongue, when to cross my legs, and when to flip my hair.
I always say please and thank you, and usually I say things like “likewise”, and “absolutely”. I found myself saying both. That’s a pretty good sign that I was ready to pee a little my nerves were so shot.
He says I did well. He says it made him happy I met his people.
Well, likewise sugar.
BMan hit me up the night before and asked me, “on a scale of 1-10, how nervous are you?”. Shit, y’all I was so nervous I could have thrown up before, during, and after my coffee. I was so nervous I drank a Stella while I was getting ready, and I quit drinking years ago. I was so nervous I thought about pouring my Stella into my coffee.
But, it was fine. Quiet, and reserved, and polite.
I was as nervous as a cat the whole time. I don’t know if I expected someone to kick over the fryer or throw a burnt casserole to the floor just as an ode to my holidays past, but it didn’t happen.
It was uneventful. I made it through an uneventful holiday with my very normal and stable boyfriends’ family.
I have 100% gone soft. Someone punch me in my chest if I ever say anything remotely close to talking of being bionic. I’m a real fucking vag these days.
Beautiful! Usually this time of year, cads break up with sweethearts to avoid gifting them. So happy Turkey day was a success!