Home for the Holidays

For the first time in, oh, about a decade, I brought my boyfriend home with me for my family’s Christmas celebration.

(Mind you, this is a new boyfriend, it’s not like we’ve been together for the last ten years and I’m only now getting around to bringing him home for the holidays.)

It was both refreshing to be dating someone who was willing to come to my family’s holiday and terrifying. Because, let’s be honest here, when you haven’t brought a date to a family event in ten years, you fret about it.

What if he hates my family?
What if my family hates him?
What is some unimaginable, unpredictable, utterly horrific event occurs, ending the world as we know it?!

The usual worries that pop up when you ask your significant other to drive an hour away with you to be locked in a house for eight hours with four people that he’s either never met or has barely met. All of whom will be judging him! Or me… mostly me.

Now, I knew going into this that my concerns were about 90% my lizard brain overreacting to the unknown and only about 10% legitimate worries. And, really, the event played out just fine. A bit awkward at times, but actually fine overall.

The family seems to like the boyfriend, and the boyfriend doesn’t seem to have been scared off of future family events.

Sounds like a win to me.

Quote

To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure. But risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

Leo Buscaglai