purge part 4:
My boss invited me to a neighbor’s for a glass of wine one day after work. So I went, because they are close with their neighbors, and I know that we hear stories about each other.
I get to the door, never having met the people on the other side.
She looks friendly enough, but surprised to see an extra guest.
And then it registers. And she says, “You must be my future daughter-in-law.”
Thinking I heard incorrectly, I laughed it off on the outside. On the inside, my eggs jumped back into my screaming ovaries.
Moving on, into the kitchen. Where I meet Mr. Neighborman. Wine glasses are pulled from dark oak cabinets, and as he uncorks a bottle, he turns to my boss and asks, “So is this the future daughter-in-law?
The only response that is mustered is my boss choking down a sip of perfectly-aged wine adding, “We hadn’t mentioned that part to her. yet.”
Uh. Hello. Now, while I am not 100% opposed to being set-up (as I am still stupid, hopeful, and not completely jaded when it comes to dating), I’m not sure my boss should be doing the setting up, and I am not sure his (whoever he is) parents should know about it before I do.
At this point, I was just waiting for this kid to jump out of a closet and seal the deal on this hair-brained scheme.
Instead, in a less reproductive-tract stalling maneuver, Mrs. Neighborwoman pushed the conversation towards her son. “He is such a nice guy, he is a big boy, here look at pictures of us at his brother’s wedding…”
She looked up at me, and I am supposed to say what? “So, is there a family name I should consider for your grandson?” But instead, I was polite, I nodded and smiled. I thanked them for the wine and the company when I left. I complimented their lovely home and backed out of their driveway seriously hoping I had made a good impression.
What? I don’t even know the guy. Fortunately, my impending wedding hasn’t been brought up since. Looks like we are going to have to postpone it. I hope we can get our cake deposit back.