My last serious boyfriend was a Ragin’ Cajun from the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. I had met his family many times and managed not to make too much of an ass out of myself. I mean, I think they may have even liked me? This includes a trip to Vegas together.
Modern. Day. Miracle.
You should know that I have a hard time not being “myself” (i.e., inappropriate) in any kind of social situation that involves alcohol. When I first meet someone new I often can be pretty shy, but liquid courage gets me comfortable enough to be my strange self in front of family, friends or strangers alike. The Captain just can’t help it.
In Vegas, although I coined our rental car “the nipple” (it was small and a pinkish red!) and drank my face off, things went smooth overall. They probably actually liked that I was dating their son up until the infamous Mardi Gras weekend.
My boyfriend and I had recently moved in together and things had been pretty rocky. We decided we needed a getaway, so we opted to take a trip down to the Gulf Coast for Mardi Gras. We had the opportunity to ride on a float. His family was part of a “crew,” and I was part of the “crew” that involved the love of all things shiny, free or mood-altering.
We woke up at the butt crack of dawn, and I may or may not have eaten breakfast (meaning I did not). What I do recall is starting to drink Captain and Diets around 6:30 a.m. This was many years ago when I was much more of a seasoned drinker and thought I could stand up to the challenge.
Apparently I was not as seasoned as I thought.
Riding on a float was such a blast. I felt like a rock star being able to whip beads at people. I perfected the point and toss, lasso toss and other wild, inaccurate throws that involved a lot of arm swinging, boob shaking and shouting in between giggles. I was a natural!
After the parade we went back to the “in-laws” house for more drinking. Allegedly I had downed an ENTIRE bottle of rum throughout the course of the morning and early afternoon. I completely blacked out. With his family.
Black out. With HIS family.
From what I was told, after the parade we all piled in a car together to go back to their house. On several occasions I pulled my hot pink thong out of my jeans and asked, “Who wants a piece of this?” In the car was me, my boyfriend, his mother and father, his brother and sister-in-law.
Raise of hands who wants a piece of this? Nobody? Anybody? No? Have you seen the skimpy, hot pink thong I’m holding in my hand like a slingshot? You have? Still? Nobody? Alrighty then.
Now one of the reasons I got along so well with my boyfriend was because he actually liked me for me. He didn’t try to tame or change my sometimes wild ways. However, in this situation I very much wish he had put me in a sleeper hold to shut my drunk ass up.
It’s not often I get angry and mean. Drinking a whole bottle of liquor on an empty stomach? Um, yeah. That’s going to equal angry and mean.
And possibly dead.
At the after party, I apparently became infuriated when they wouldn’t let me drink anymore once they discovered I had finished the ENTIRE bottle of rum.
I refused to speak with anyone and stomped around the party glaring at people and sitting in the corner with a scowl. When asked by my boyfriend’s mom if I “was having fun” I put my hands on my hips, glared at her and hissed, “Do I look like I’m having fun?”
Finally, my boyfriend realized the gravity of the situation and made me go to bed around 4 p.m.
I woke up around 5 a.m. the next day feeling like a million bucks. My boyfriend and his dad had golf plans, so I was first greeted by his mom. As she told me about the prior day’s events, including all of my not-even-close-to-borderline inappropriate behavior, I wanted to curl up in a ball and die.
There is no amount of thank you cards, flower arrangements or restaurant gift cards that can make up for being a belligerent, angry drunk at your boyfriend’s parent’s party.
Moral of the Story:
Fortunately, I had a boyfriend with an equally free-spirited nature so his parents had seen it all. They were very understanding about the situation. His mom actually laughed throughout most of the story, I think, because it was such a stark contrast to my normally pleasant affect.
But for all you gals who want to IMPRESS the mother and father who you hope to one day be your in-laws?
Don’t drink a bottle of liquor in one sitting. Don’t show your underwear to the family and offer them a “piece” of anything you may or may not have to offer.
And last but not least: Don’t become a drunken Oscar the Grouch and insult the people who have opened their home to you.