What It's Like To Bring Boys Home To Meet My Parents

Last night, I brought an ex-boyfriend of mine to dinner to meet my parents (that's normal, right?) to quell their fears that I'm not going to die alone (tough to be 24 and single these days, apparently). He isn't Jewish, but is at least a banker, so it was the best I could do on short notice on a Monday.

Could they be any cuter??????????

On Sunday night, they invited me to an event that they demanded I bring a male date to (their friends were starting to ask questions) but I couldn't find anyone and brought my female friend Jordan, instead. My 22-year-old brother brought a 34-year-old woman that he'd met at a wedding the night before, which luckily took the heat off of me, but nevertheless they were stressed about the fact that I couldn't find a single eligible guy to bring to the party. (Lay off, guys.)

To prove to them I'm not a huge loser, and that all these "boys" I'm constantly writing about aren't made up, I convinced an ex (who now, luckily, happens to be one of my best friends) to come to dinner with me to meet them. (I think he thought my dad was Anthony Weiner, not Mark Weiner, and was curious to meet him. Whoops!)

Bringing boys to meet my parents, which doesn't happen often, is an experience. My last boyfriend told me he was "terrified to meet them" (his exact words) after my roommate told him about the time my mom forced me to stand on a chair in the middle of my apartment and sing Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" to a room full of my friends and their moms while she looked on with tears in her eyes (to be clear, this was 6 months ago). They're the absolute best people on the planet, but certainly make an intense first impression.

My mom always shows up looking amazing— stilettos and a blowout, every time, without fail— to make sure the guy knows I have good genes and will age well. She then throws rapid-fire personal questions at him ("Where are you from? New Hampshire? I mean I would never live there but I've heard it's nice." "What are your intentions with my daughter? She's really pretty, you know.") and then as a test, makes my date pick out a bottle of wine for the table. No one has ever, to this day, made a choice she's totally approved of.

My dad, who can barely get a word in, usually spends the first 15 minutes calling the guy by the wrong name and then falls asleep. Literally passes out sitting upright just before our appetizers come. Admittedly, I've dated some boring guys. If I have managed to find someone interesting enough to keep him awake (it's happened exactly once) he spends the entire dinner showing him pictures of famous people, or of our dearly departed dog Tyler. Then, he takes out one of his three cell phones and starts taking pictures of us.

I chug white wine and wait for the whole thing to be over.

My mom and dad are a tough crowd. As much as they want me to find someone and settle down (and like, COME ON guys. I'm 24 and barely have a job yet. Relaxxxxx.) their standards for me are high. Unless he's a jewish lawyer/doctor/banker/heir to a throne, he need not apply. Unfortunately, as someone who has recently started trying to pickup dates on the internet, my standards aren't quite in line with theirs.

Last night actually went better than could be expected, except for one teeeeeny problem: they loved the guy, which never (ever ever ever) happens. I don't know how to break it to them that we aren't dating, so I'm just going to write it here and hope that they read it.  Sorry, guys! Hopefully this week's Hinge date will live up to your standards.