Meet The Parents

Forget about the I am sorrys and the I love yous! Could there be any more forbidding words than these three?

Meet the parents.

Look, falling in love is the easy part. Staying together is something else entirely since it usually involves more than the original couple. Short of being handfasted straight out of an orphanage, entire families on both sides are invariably thrown into the already volatile mix lending itself to the occasional marital blow-ups.

In my case - since Charming Calvin's hermit of a dad lives in relative seclusion, it's actually meet the parent. His mother. Otherwise known as the infamous Lady Borgia. Prepared to face the inevitable, I steeled myself with several sacred mantras, hid poison antidotes up my sleeve and made sure to wear the Kevlar vest under my morning coat.

Never hurts to be prepared. From what I've heard of her formidable reputation, I wondered whether I'd be facing down the vengeful wrath of a mother-goddess eager to rid her innocent child of the demonic plague called homosexuality. My nemesis indeed.

There was even a brief crazy moment where I half-intended to appear all fey and fabulous to freak her out.

Paul : Oh my darlings! You look fabulous! Come in to my amazingly fab pad, bitches!

Of course I abandoned any such plan after Charming Calvin vetoed it. Reason enough I downed a cuppa this morning before meeting her. Liquid courage I call it.


Interrogation by the Borgias!
No doubt it helped since Lady Borgia turned out to be far less than the forbidding dragon I imagined her to be! Certainly no poisoned cups or hidden daggers in sight. More simple earth mother than scheming Machiavellian matriarch! In fact Charming Calvin actually bore a startling - and discomfiting - resemblance to Madame Borgia.

I wasn't fooled by her placid demeanour though. Despite the fact that Lady Borgia played the oblivious country mama card, I didn't miss the suspicious glances she gave me over the morning titbits.

She had reason enough to be doubtful of course! As usual when I meet perfect strangers, I turn stiff, standoffish and unbending with an accent creeping into my increasingly curt sentences. To put it plainly, nervousness turns me into a snotty bitch. Any colder and she'd have required a winter jacket! So you can imagine that his mother must have thought!

Then again, Lady Borgia should be used to such antisocial behaviour - especially since her icy daughter-in-law certainly lived up to her reputation.