Wednesday, November 12, 2008


Paco has yet to read my blog, but no matter. He thinks it’s great that I have one and maybe because he doesn’t read it that's why he is always ready to suggest new topics, however controversial. I could say “you won’t believe what Mr. S did today at work” and he would say “Why don’t you blog about it?” Never mind that it might involve the IRS, illegal immigration or the TABC and we could all go to Sing Sing for 20,000 years if the Feds decided to peak at my blog that day. In other words, I think Paco is very sweet for making these story suggestions but he may not appreciate that once it gets out there in the blogosphere anyone with a computer and at least one functioning finger can read my deepest secrets.

With that introduction, I will now tell you a story, at Paco’s suggestion, of my first meeting with his folks...

After we had been dating a few months, Paco told me he wanted me to meet his folks. This was a big honor and I immediately accepted, but with one caveat. Since his folks live out of town a ways, we would be spending the entire weekend with them. That meant sleeping in their house, under their roof, if you know what I mean. Did they have a guest room, I asked? Yes, Paco assured me they did. Where would I sleep? In the guest room. Where will you sleep? On the hide-a-way in the den. Okay, good. There is no way I am sharing a room with you at your parent’s house. My mother (may she rest in peace) would be appalled and if the shoe was on the other foot not only would Paco be sleeping in a separate room from me, but it would also be at a hotel on the other side of town. And my father would have the key to his hotel room locked in his safe. Paco agreed and seemed relieved, too. We felt it was more respectful to sleep in separate rooms, surely that first weekend at least.

So off we went for the weekend to meet the parents and all went swimmingly. Until bedtime. Paco and I were in the den, making up his bed when his mother walked into the room. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Making up Paco’s bed” we said in unison (we had rehearsed this part during the three hour drive up that morning). “You don’t have to sleep in here, for Pete’s sake. That’s silly. You are both sharing the guest room.” “No, thank you but we like this arrangement just fine. Really. We are more comfortable this way” Paco pleaded. Finally relenting, his mother shook her head in amazement and wandered off to bed and we did the same. To our separate rooms. It was awkward but neither one us was ready to share sleeping quarters at his parent's house. After all, I had only just met them and I did not want them thinking their son was dating a wanton hussy. That could come later.

After making up his bed Paco and I chastely said good night and I wandered off to the guest room and shut the door. I found out later that at that point Paco’s father came into the den and said to him “Say, don’t you two sleep together?” (secret meaning: you don't expect us to believe you're not, do you?) To which Paco replied “Yes, Dad, we do, but not here.” His father apparently was incredulous that we were making such a show of our innocence but no amount of chiding could get Paco to join me in the guest room. Lights went out and we hoped that was the end of it.

After dinner the next evening Paco and I dutifully went to the den to again make up his bed. Once again his father walked into the room, this time apparently on a mission. “You two don’t have to do this, you know. This is just silly. Just go in there and stay in the guest room. You will be a lot more comfortable.” At this point the cringe factor was off the chart and I fled to the security of the guest room and shut the door. How is it that Paco’s parents were forcing us to share a room under their roof? Neither of us was ready to go public with the full extent of our relationship and would have preferred to ease into that aspect a bit further down the road.

I sat on the edge of the bed assessing the situation, determined to hold onto the illusion of our chastity. No one could make me sleep with my boyfriend, not even his own parents! Suddenly from the other end of the hallway came this from his mother “Get in there and sleep with her for heaven’s sake. This is ridiculous. Your father and I don’t care if you two are sleeping together. We are fine with it so just get yourself in there and sleep with her!” I was beyond embarrassed. My face turned a deep crimson and I buried my face in the pillow. It was as if there was something unnatural about our not wanting to share a room. It was the ultimate role reversal. Parents shaming their children into “having relations without benefit of clergy”. It was just too much.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened a crack and Paco stuck his head in the room. “I guess I might as well sleep in here with you. I think it’s the only way we will get any peace around here. Do you mind?" he asked. “I guess you're right, " I said, "we might as well bite the bullet and relent. I’m afraid your parents are going to think ill of me if I don’t sleep with you.” Then I added “Just to appease your folks I will let you sleep in here with me. But we are NOT having sex and they can’t make us!”


  1. Oh, that could easily be the conversation and scenario when I met my husband's parents.

    My parents, on the other hand, were content to let us go on with our ruse.

  2. LOL, That's so cute! Once upon a time when J & I were engaged we lived with his parents in his childhood second floor bedroom (long, long story) and one evening at dinner his mother says "the floors aren't as sound proof as you think." I liked to die right on the spot.

  3. G
    never knew this story, but those people from Oklahoma,as you know, are forward thinking, intelligent consenting adults who like to think their children are also.
    I would have slept in the den....

  4. This reminds me of when, at the age of 32 and after the demise of a six year marriage, I informed my mother that my current boyfriend (and future husband) and I were planning on moving in together. "Well," she said, "I'm not going to tell your father. You'll have to do that yourself." So she got Daddy on the line and I dutifully told him, and he said, "Well, just don't get pregnant." Which I thought was pretty funny, given my age and my proven ability to not prematurely provide him with grandkids. Now I'm thinking he just had to come up with something to say for my mother's benefit. I'd love to have been a fly on the wall after he hung up the phone.

  5. That's cuz we're good catholic girls Racie. We anticipate the guilt, and behave accordingly.

    When sweet hubby & I were dating, and off to visit my folks for Christmas I had this dilemma too. I was fretting & fretting about where we'd sleep, so I phoned my younger brother for advise. He reminded me that I was almost 40 and that he was pretty sure M&D already knew we were sleeping together, and to not make such a big deal about it. He was right. I hate it when my younger brother is right...

  6. I remember the incident with Sister L and Daddy's advice. Good thing their marriage has worked out so well or none of us would have heard the end of it.

  7. I'm thinking parents are not only smarter than we think but also a lot more liberal. At least they are up in OK.

  8. I say take a Liberator Pillow up at your Christmas visit....

  9. I hope you gifted Paco's mom with a ten inch black silicone strap-on upon your return.

    Because really, nothing says THANK YOU like a John Holmes special, I always say.

    Course, I don't get invited many places a second time...but still.....

  10. I wandered over here form kwr221's place ......

    my VERY catholic parents wouldnt let us sleep together, not even when we were engaged ... the first time we visted them after our wedding I taped a copy of our marriage certificate to the bedroom door

  11. I love the marriage certif on the door idea. There's no argueing with that. I hope your folks thought it was funny and didn't ground you for being being 'uppity'. Sheesh.

  12. ...I think the official reaction was: "Mandy, THAT is inappropriate ... a PRIEST signed that paper"

    good times:)

  13. In other words, your damned if you do and damned if you don't. Might as well have continued living in sin for all the good that piece of paper did you!

  14. I think I can see your cringe and raise you a... I don't know what, but the story is like so. Innocent 20-year-old Spatula and her live-in boyfriend go to Ukraine to visit Gran and Grandpa. There isn't a whole lot of rooms in the apartment, so boyfriend and I get stuck in one bedroom without much discussion.

    I'm practicing awesome denial skills and pretending the whole situation is happening on some other continent, to some other people, and I'm doing really well with that, in fact I am almost not embarrassed. Then my Granny wanders in as I'm taking the covers off the bed the first night, pats the sheets conspiratorially and informs me that she put a waterproof spread under them and that we can totally have at it as much as we want.

    At that point I threw myself out the window. So I am actually not even here.

    How's that?

  15. Spats, you totally win! That was hilarious.