Lisa Thornbury: Party Mummy


When First Impressions Leave You Limp

My Experience With A Dinner Party Dink

When I met my husband, I knew instantly that he was the one, that I would marry him one day and have his children. Of this I was certain. THIS is why I wanted to make a great first impression on my future inlaws. 

But first, I had to win over the brother. The first time we met, Adrian and I had just returned from a rousing hike in the woods. We *may* have snuck into a cave for a quick smooch, and I *may* have stood up on my way out and cracked my skull on a rocky overhang. Of course, I didn't let on that I had a banged my head. No, head injuries are not sexy. I carried on as though I wasn't seeing stars, and we trekked back to the car. We stopped in at his parent's to pick something up. They were at work so I was safe. However, his younger brother was there. We met in the kitchen, shook hands, and he looked me over. It seemed to be going well until I felt a trickle run down my temple, across my cheek, and off my chin. We all saw it at the same time. A crimson drop of blood splashed onto the granite countertop. 

"Um, you're bleeding. Like, a lot," my future brother inlaw informed me. 

When I told him how I'd received this affliction (after first aid was performed), he looked at his brother and said, "She's a keeper." Such a brat. 

Later that week (my head healed nicely by the way), I was invited to a dinner party to meet the parents. Holy Fockers, I was nervous. What if they didn't like me? 

I arrived at their home with wine and flowers, hair done, make-up applied, dressed like a respectable potential future daughter-in-law. We sat in their formal dining room and chatted.

Everything was going smoothly until Adrian started telling a story about the "dinks on his car." Dinks. He obviously meant dings, but he said dinks. Several times. Dinks. 

I was able to hold it together because I am incredibly mature.

But, as soon as his brother, who was seated across from me made eye contact, I knew I was in trouble.

He kicked my shin to get my attention so he could show me his impressions of rubbery, floppy dinks on a car (hand gestures and mouthing of the word dink achieved this effect perfectly). 

I still didn't laugh but started to sweat. 

Adrian continued his story about the trials and frustrations of somebody leaving dinks on you car in a parking lot. 

I was dying. DYING.

Again another kick in the shin followed by more hand gestures. 

I was now sweaty and red and my shoulders began to shake. 

If Adrian said dink one more time, I was a gonner. 

Fortunately the meal came out and I was saved. Thankfully, there were no sausages served or that would have been it for me. 

I made it through the meal without laughing or choking or doing anything that might ruin my inlaws' first impression of me. Overall, I think they liked me. And I was proud of myself for getting through the dinner without exploding into laughter and falling off my chair. 

Have you ever made a bad first impression? Please share. I promise I won't think you're a dink.