When I was a freshman in high school, I met this guy who was working the snow cone machine at one of our swim meets.
I was young and silly and he had really pretty eyes, so I hung around the snow cone machine all day to flirt with him.
He got my number, and we went on two dates and talked on the phone every night for hours.
I was one seriously smitten kitten.
About a week and half into our “relationship,” I got a really strange message on my family’s answering machine.
It was snow cone boy’s (I have since forgotten his name) mother asking me if I could call her back.
I called her back and she had a message for me. Her son had gotten in some trouble and was in jail. It was nothing major, but he had been driving around some friends who had alcohol and gotten they had picked up by the police.
He knew he was supposed to call me at 7 pm, but he wouldn’t be able to call that night. Seeing how he was incarcerated and all.
During his one phone call, he gave his mother my phone number and asked her to call me so that I wouldn’t think he had forgotten.
My mother thought this was adorable. So adorable that she completely overlooked the fact that he had been arrested.
I however was not so impressed. Two weeks later, something shiny came a long and I was over snow cone boy.
But my mom was not.
And the three month rule was born.
My parents WILL NOT meet anyone that I’m dating until they have been around for three months.
While I often find this rule super annoying, because I tend to get REALLY excited about new things and people, I realize that it is completely necessary.
Well my friends. We have arrived. Wesley and I have been seeing each other for three months, and tonight he is coming for dinner.
I don’t know who needs more luck. Me, my parents or Wesley.
As long as I keep people’s mouths full of good food, we can’t run into any problems.
Love and Beer Floats