If all goes as expected Tucker is planning for me to meet his parents in a little over a month.
(I fell asleep last night trying to come up with a pseudonymous surname for Tucker and his family but the inspiration actually hit this morning. I will call them the Kershaws – a name having absolutely nothing to do with their real identity and everything to do with Tucker’s passion for knives.)
Mr and Mrs Kershaw already know of my existence. Tucker has talked to them about me and I actually met Mr Kershaw briefly a few weeks ago when he unexpectedly stopped by Tucker’s house one evening but that was nothing more than a hi, bye, nice to meet you kind of thing. Next month will be the real deal. Several hours spent in conversation, acting on my best behavior, trying to hopefully win them over as much as I have won Tucker over.
When Tucker told his parents about me he wasn’t so much concerned about what they would think of me as a person but what they might think of the fact that I am ten years older than him, divorced, and the mother of two young children. His parents have been married for somewhere in the vicinity of three decades and, from what Tucker has told me, seem to be rather conservative and perhaps even old-fashioned. I’m pretty sure I don’t fit their vision of the ideal girl for their son but when Tucker talked about me his mother assured him that she trusts his judgment and only wants him to be happy, regardless of my former marital status.
Most of the time when we are together I address Tucker as Sir. He has quite clearly told me that I can not and will not do this in front of his parents. It would invite a whole host of questions all of us would be more comfortable ignoring and expose more of our lifestyle than is really necessary, especially considering that they are his parents.
It will be challenging to watch my p’s and q’s, as it were, considering any time Tucker calls me by my name or give a direct order I respond with Sir.
“Gray, did I remember to lock the front door?”
“Gray, bring me my boots.”
“Gray, where is the remote control?”
“On the windowsill, Sir.”
“Gray, are there any bagels left?”
And so it goes. Tucker may well have to avoid calling me by name to prevent me inadvertently slipping in a bit of protocol, or he may just have to keep me within arms reach so I never have to speak above a whisper when responding to him.
I think Tucker is aware of which mannerisms of his induce a more submissive and formalized response from me and can alter his mode of interacting with me for the best results. I also tend to be very quiet when faced with unfamiliar and potentially important people so that may work somewhat in our favor in this situation. Hiding behind Tucker has become my refuge when I am feeling uncomfortable or insecure so I’m just hoping he lets me continue this when faced with his parents. Impressing the elder Kershaws is rather high on my priority list and having to explain why I call their son Sir probably wouldn’t further my cause much.