Family Feud
I have the blessing and the curse of growing up in an
old-fashioned Italian-American family. Don't get me wrong, I am
eternally grateful to know I have parents who always looked out
for me. When I was 16-years-old and smashed the family car, they
yelled. But they also made sure I was ok, paid for the damages I
couldn't afford, and handed me the keys to try again.
Selfishly, I put them through my adolescent wild stages - the
under-age drinking, the sneaking out of the house to go out with
my friends, the wild clothes I wore, the clubs I went to, the
piercings and the tattoos. Still, they loved and supported me.
They cried as I left to attend college in Arizona, 2000 miles
away from my Pennsylvania home. And they welcomed me with open
arms when I moved back home after college. They gave me the
advice that I should get a job, save up my money, and move back
in with them - rent free. How nice of them, I thought.
Until I got a serious boyfriend.
Suddenly, my father who was content with me doing whatever I
wanted 2000 miles away, could not fall asleep until I was home
from my Friday night date with Steve.
"I was up until 3 in the morning!" he exclaimed, with dark
circles under his eyes. "What could you possibly be doing at 3
am? The bars close at 2."
I was flabbergasted. Did he really want an explanation? I was
22-years-old, not 18. He was acting ridiculously, I thought.
This continued for a few weeks.
Then the unthinkable happened.
My boyfriend Steve, who my parents had known for a while, and
who always came to the door to get me before a date, came to
pick me up one night as usual. But this time, he beeped the horn
outside, as a signal for me to go and meet him.
This sent my normally mild-mannered father, who was eating
dinner at the time, into a rage. "He has no respect for you,
none at all!" he said. "When your mother and I dated, your
grandfather used to make me come in the house and watch TV for
an hour with him before I was allowed to take her out. If I had
to do it, then Steve does too."
Again, I was flabbergasted. My father wasn't even watching TV.
What was I supposed to do?
"Ok, dad," I said. "I'm going to go now." From that point on,
Steve was the "bad guy" in my father's eyes. And my mom - being
my mom - took my father's side.
As for me, I made the horrible mistake of telling Steve my
family woes. At first it was nice to have someone to vent to,
who understood. We would sit and laugh at how ridiculous it all
was. It got to the point where I was constantly venting to Steve
because my family was really driving me nuts. But little by
little, I noticed Steve growing distant towards me.
Then the unthinkable happened. Again.
On the Fourth of July, as I sat at Steve's house grilling
hamburgers and hot dogs, my cell phone began to ring. It was my
father telling me to bring Steve over to watch my brother's
firework display. Notice I used the word "telling" instead of
"asking".
"Steve and I are in the middle of grilling food," I told him
nicely.
Well, you can imagine what happened next. That's right - my
father told me that if he had to be at family events when he was
dating my mom, then Steve had to do it too.
I told Steve my predicament, and being a polite gentleman, he
cleaned up the food and went with me to my family's house to
watch the display. However, the only display that occurred is
when we walked in. My father decided to set Steve straight, and
tell him that it was disrespectful of us not to want to be at my
house for a family function.
"That's what you do when you've got a girlfriend," he told
Steve. "Get used to it." Needless to say, Steve didn't want a
girlfriend much longer.
"I can't imagine living my life having to please someone like
that," he said. "I'm sorry, I like you, but..." But I have an
insane family, I felt like saying.
Thinking back on it now, I made several mistakes that I'd like
to share with all of you.
Number One: Never, ever move back in with your family if you're
used to living on your own - no matter how much you love them.
Once you move out, you can never move back.
Number Two: When you enter the world of dating, it's nice to
have your family's general concern for your well being. However,
try to keep your dating life and your family life separate until
you know you're with the right person. When a guy is ready to
marry you, he'll be prepared (hopefully) for your family, and
vice versa.
And finally Number Three: Never, ever let your boyfriend know
that your parents don't like him. Don't tell him the bad things
your parents say about him. Would you want him to tell you how
his mother thinks you dress like a prostitute? I didn't think
so. Vent to your friends, vent to your pet, but do not ever vent
to your date.
As for me, I ended up moving out of my house and now have a
healthy relationship with both my family and my boyfriend. I
realize now that my family took what happened under their roof
as something that was their responsibility. I learned from it.
Now it is as nice to have people who care about me as it is to
have the privacy to live my own life too.