I met my daughter’s new boyfriend for the first time today. Man, I hope I haven’t sent him screaming to move immediately to another city without leaving a forwarding address.
He came to pick her up for school at 8:00 a.m. I did not know he was coming until about 7:55 a.m., when my daughter so advised me just before closeting herself in her bathroom for final grooming procedures. No sooner had the door snicked shut behind her when a car pulled into my driveway and a slightly premature NB, being from the old school of manners, did not commence horn honkage but smartly jumped out and came to rap upon my door.
I called to the groomish daughter but she was doing a final pass-through with the blow-dryer and did not hear. NB had seen me in the living room window. I could therefore not ignore the fact that he was standing on my front porch in sub-zero weather. So I mashed down the million morning cowlicks of the hair on my head but was forced to ignore those of the hair on my legs. I gathered about me my ratty pink bathrobe, the miasma of my morning breath, and my dignity, and I opened the door.
Betraying not a flicker of dismay, NB stepped in and held out his hand, into which I was compelled to place mine, sticky with the half cinnamon bun I had just scarfed and portions of which were probably still adorning my teeth as I smiled a bit wildly at him. He then stood chatting with me just as if I looked like Jennifer Aniston on her best day. (Or even her worst. The point being, Jennifer Aniston is never caught looking bad. Jeez. I guess if you have to explain your pop culture references, that’s not a good thing.)
So I must say, I was charmed by the young man, in the few brief moments I got to spend with him before my daughter, catching on that he was here, catapulted out of the bathroom and down the stairs screeching, “I’m all ready! I’m ready to go!”
Actually, she didn’t do that. It just sounded good for the story. She, too, appeared outwardly perfectly calm about this first presentation of her mother to the NB. She may have then spent the entire drive to school describing to him the day she discovered she was adopted; I don’t know. But I was very proud of her graciousness in the moment.
I would like just the teensiest bit more notice next time he’s coming over, though.