It has been over 15 years, but I clearly remember the butterflies in my stomach the first time I went to New Jersey to meet my partner’s parents. He had not seen his folks in over a year, but he walked in, pecked his mother on the cheek and nodded pleasantly at his father, like he was returning from the mall. His father poured everyone some iced tea, his mother turned on the Golf channel and we all sat down. During commercials we discussed if the weather would remain fair.
We were still drinking iced tea and watching the Golf channel 48 hours later when we departed. My partner pecked his mother on the cheek, nodded pleasantly to his father and we left. My partner was delighted the annual trip went so well. “They really liked you,” he said. “I’ve never seen them so animated.” I nodded, speechless.
After such a rousing welcome, I felt it incumbent upon me to introduce my partner to my family; after all, I told myself, we had been dating for almost 8 months and were talking about buying a house together: it was time. As it happened, my older brother was planning a barbecue for my big sister’s birthday, and this seemed a perfect time to make the introductions.
Unlike my partner’s restrained, WASP-ish kin, I have a large rambunctious family. I have 21 first cousins on my dad’s side alone, and this does not count my siblings and their large, growing families. No one in this group has ever done anything quietly, and they certainly don’t sip iced tea: We come from European peasant stock and wine and vodka are the beverages of choice, generally in copious quantities. This group is not constrained by social pleasantries. To put it loosely, these are not the kinds of people who would let a mouthful of mashed potatoes inhibit them from voicing a loud, vehement opinion.
The party was at my brother’s house in Parkland, because he has a huge backyard suitable for a large quantity of people, including enough little kids to make Maria Montessori quiver. My brother’s wife insisted on serving steak to celebrate my sister’s big day, but my brother felt it was too expensive. My sister-in-law bought the steaks anyway and my brother got sulky and decided to ask everyone to pitch in $10 each to pay for the meat. As you might imagine, my brother is not the kind of guy you would see lighting his cigar
with a dollar bill.
My partner and I arrived at the front door a moment behind my mother and the birthday girl. As I started the introductions, my brother greeted us, did a fast head count and said, “That’ll be $40.” My partner, who had apparently never been to a family dinner with a cover charge, gulped. I handed my brother two twenties, and told him I’d cover my mother and sister, all the while avoiding eye contact with my partner, who I was sure I’d never see again anyway. “The bar is by the pool,” said my brother, checking the cash to make sure I had not short-changed him. “Get a receipt,” said my mother; “you can write this off.”
We made slow progress to the bar, making introductions the whole way. By now, my partner had a frantic smile glued on his face and was nodding his head like a madman; if you’ve ever seen a dead raccoon by the side of the road, you know the look.
On the way to the bar we stopped at the buffet table to get some chicken wings. Since there were no tongs, we piled our plates with our fingers and then, greasy, we wanted to wipe our hands. There were also no napkins. When my partner saw my sister-in-law walking by he asked for a napkin; she smiled and shook her head. “We’re aren’t those kind of people, Honey,” she said, not unkindly. “We don’t put on airs.”
As we got to the pool I saw my 25-year-old nephew was pouring drinks and I almost ran away; he was already deep in the grape, as was his girlfriend, who was a stripper. (I am not making this up.) I made more introductions and my nephew looked at my partner, looked at me and said, “So this is your new one?” In the background I could hear my mother loudly telling my older brother that since he charged her for the steak she wanted to take home the remnant in a doggy bag.
By now I was wishing that I had been born an only-child in a WASP family, but I figured alcohol would help, so I asked my partner what he was drinking. “I’m short of cash,” he said. “Are you buying?”