Columnist makes good first impression on man of her dreams
The first time I met my future mother-in-law, I fretted over what I should wear. I settled on cream-colored stirrup pants, a mauve-and-cream wool sweater and ballet flats so I wouldn’t trip on the stairs.
I wanted to appear proper — a modest young lady in a high-necked collar — even though my date preferred me in a short skirt and heels. This wasn’t about impressing a man. This was about impressing a man’s mother.
I think she liked me. I know I liked her.
I also liked her son. Loved him, actually — which is why I said “Of course, I will!” when he asked me to marry him. I can still picture what I was wearing the night Mark proposed: A white top smeared with red marinara sauce, since we’d dined at Mungo’s Italian Restaurant earlier that evening.
I can also picture the orange tabby cat that circled the dumpster in the restaurant’s parking lot. Because Mark and I had driven separately, I told him I’d meet him back at his condo.
“Where’s the kitty?” he asked when I showed up later, empty-handed.
“It turns out the kitchen staff takes care of her,” I said. “But how did you know I went back to check on the cat?”
“Oh, I know you,” he said, “and I love your tender heart.”
Thirty minutes later, Mark popped the question.
Thirty years later, he still pays the price for his wife’s tenderheartedness. Especially when a certain bad-breathed Chihuahua named Lola tries to steal his pillow. Or an elderly, former farm cat called Malcolm meows us awake at 4 a.m.
They say you don’t get a second chance to improve a bad first impression.
But overcoming a good one? Well that’s really easy.
