If I had to sum up my weekend with one word, you can bet it would be Comfort.
From Thursday night on my life has been a whirlwind of people and places and laughter and love. The Boy drove up from VA a day early and kept me company Thursday night after I tied up a very entertaining
evening with LC and her boy toy. I introduced them to my new favorite bar; a place full of woodwork, cheap drinks and friendly regulars who pool money to keep the jukebox rocking. I love it because there are no
televisions and I can get a $5.00 long island. LC’s guy and The Boy really hit it off the first time they met. They finished each others jokes and made plans to wear plaid and play golf in the near future; it was boy-love at first sight. If PA and VA didn’t have all those silly states between them coughcoughmarylandcoughcough I’m sure we’d double date regularly. Unfortunately The Boy missed the drinking festivities by about 20 minutes and had to suffer through the night in my room, with only me as means of companionship and entertainment.
He was not displeased.
Friday he took me to breakfast and set up the eight bottle wine refrigerator he brought me as a surprise. I know what you’re thinking, “Flowers and hoity-toity appliances in the same week? Shaba, he’s a keeper!” Yes, I know. The kicker? He won the wine cooler from the red cross blood donation center. He gives blood regularly (nice guy alert!) and the center occasionally holds drawings for cool stuff. He happened to win the big ticket prize and thought I might like it. Yes, he’s amazing. No, you can’t borrow him. Unfortunately I did not get to spend the afternoon drinking a bottle of win chilled by my fancy new appliance. I instead had to work a 3 hour shift (ahem, 3 HOUR SHIFT people! Do you know how ridiculous a 3 hour shift is? I’ll tell you, it’s as ridiculous as this is and you know how much I love my girl Ro‘). So anyway, I had The Boy follow me to Small Town Hospital and then told him to go to my house for a while and hang out with my little brothers. I let him take my smallest brother with him as a navigator since The Boy has never been to my house before. He’s met most of my family, but had never actually been to my house. I like to throw my boyfriends into my family like they’re gladiators to be tossed to lions. If you jump in, make yourself at home and survive my brothers, you’re worth keeping.
I’m not sure what all went down in the 3 hours I was pushing papers around, but I know they played in the back yard batting cage (my house is Baseball Mecca for little leaguers), The Boy schooled them in Rock Band, and 2 on 2 touch football was played. Also, The Boy informed me that the littlest brother had him in hysterics when he told him that “My father is reliving his childhood through (Oldest Brother) and wants to buy him a Mustang for his 16th birthday.” Littlest brother is 10 and still has a serious case of The Cutes. The Boy said it was as if my mother’s words were coming from my brother’s mouth. Apparently littlest brother thinks a Jeep would be much cooler because “you could take the doors off.” At 6:00 littlest bro and the Boy sprung me from work and we picked up my newly engaged friend BB and hit the road for the big football game.
In between getting the lowdown on her engagement/wedding plans, we marveled at the mass amounts of people at the field, caught up with my bestie Sex Perfection and cheered on the home team. Littlest brother
is the water boy for the high school team and takes his job seriously. My oldest brother is a JV football player and had to dress to stand on the side lines and cheer. There were a couple of Kodak moments between my two brothers as they chatted on the side lines. I “awww”-ed a whole bunch.
And then I “ewww!”-ed a whole bunch when I read a sign our cheerleaders had made for the team to run through after halftime. It read, “Spartans Wear Skirts, Beat ‘Em Down!”
Let’s take a moment to review that sentiment. It’s basically “They’re men. They wear skirts, skirts are feminine, men shouldn’t be feminine, let’s kill em!” Gay-bashing anyone? Seriously, who approved that sign? I know my friends and I were offended (as was The Boy, which is reason #452 Why I Love Him). Frankly I was ashamed of my town, which really isn’t anything new. Every time I start to think the area isn’t so bad, something like this happens.
Following the game we drove across the state to The Boy’s parent’s house in the greater Pittsburgh area. Their house is gorgeous; it’s full of family pictures and comfy furniture, and home to two of the sweetest (and oldest!) golden retrievers I’ve ever met. At 17 and 11 years old the dogs are still smiling and cuddling even if they are blind and deaf. I fell in love with the 11 year old, Susie, and wanted to take her home with me. After petting the puppies The Boy and I stumbled into a bedroom and fell asleep. The next morning we woke up around 9 and had breakfast with his parents. I was a little nervous about meeting them, especially since I’d be meeting them immediately after I woke up (weird, no?) but I found out shortly that I truly had nothing to be concerned about. They’re both lovely and made me feel so at home with in the first 20 seconds that I forgot to be nervous. They also fed me mass amounts of ridiculously wonderful coffee.
The Boy and I wondered around Pittsburgh for the rest of morning and afternoon, having lunch with his sister and visiting Tristus at a coffee shop, before coming back to his parent’s house for dinner. At dinner I met
his Aunt and one of his cousin’s and her fiancé. I think I made a friend in the Aunt, and I’m pretty certain I’ll be in the good graces of the cousin and fiancé after another meeting or two. They were nice but a little hard to read. Even so, the whole time I was in the presence of his family I felt at home, I felt accepted. I can’t begin to explain how important that is to me. I’m very close with my family and I know that I wouldn’t be happy in any type of long term relationship if I didn’t feel that closeness, that love, for my partner’s family.
Looking through photo albums with The Boy I found myself thinking the people and the poses all looked familiar. My family has the same types of goofy grandparent pictures and candid baby pictures that I saw in his albums. I laughed in the living room as his aunt and cousins told stories of rude sales people and family lore thinking of the similar stories my family tells. It was all so easy, so comfortable; it just feels like it fits. I’m invited to their house for Christmas and The Boy’s mom has already told me she’s taking me to an IKEA (apparently it’s something I need to see, I’ve heard the place exists but I’ve never seen one, I’m fairly convince it’s the Big Foot of furniture stores). I like that they’re expecting to see me, that there isn’t any hesitance or uncertainty from them. They tell me, “When you’re here for Christmas,” not, “If we see you at Christmas.” It’s so nice.
I’m trying not to give you a play by play of the weekend, since I’m sure you’re not interested in the kind of tea I drank when we met up with Tristus later that evening, so forgive me if I go too fast*. Sunday we woke up later than anticipated, due to the 4ish hours of sleep we had the night before, and breakfasted with The Parents before heading to the Strip district and the Shadyside arts fiesta. We met up again with Tristus and she and The Boy’s Mom talked choir while me and The Boy’s dad drooled over fudge. It was a beautiful day and we had a great time walking around Pittsburgh.
Then The Boy and I had to leave. Hugs were given, thanks was offered, and then I had a moment.
Yes readers, I had a moment.
A moment I will remember forever. As they were saying good bye The Boy’s parents called out “love you!” to The Boy. Before I could stop myself, I replied, “love you too!”
Luckily I’m soft spoken and they no longer hear as well as they used to. I was embarrassed, and thankful they didn’t hear me, but I know it’s true.
I already love these people.
And you can bet I’m counting the days until Christmas.
*I was dreaming when I wrote this.**
**I’m also a big loser.
