Spanish Dating Inquisition

It is with great hesitation that I share news with you. I had to tell my parents I'm dating someone.

Hold on, I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Okay, I'm better. This is my LEAST favorite conversation to have with my parents, which is why I've only had it twice. Truly, I have always wanted to avoid the later conversation about the break-up. Therefore, I avoid the initial "I'm dating someone" conversation. I hate the questions and curiosity and excitement that is premature. I don't know the answers to most of the questions that my parents ask. But if I do, I don't want to share, because I don't like thinking about it. I'm scared to jinx it and make it go away.

So, I was forced into this (premature) conversation because my aunt and uncle know about it. And asked me about it.

Again...I just threw up.

I figured if Aunt & Uncle that live 90 miles away know about it, Mom & Dad that live 4 miles away should know. They are my parents, after all.

I was at my little cousin's 2nd birthday party this past Sunday, and my loud-mouth cousin (whom I love and trust in her friendship) must have told her parents that I'm dating someone that they know. It is appropriate to tell you that my aunt and uncle have always taken an interest in my dating life. They try to set me up, they ask me how things are going, they are curious as to why I'm still single. My aunt needs a hobby, to say the least. I always get the feeling that she 1. is apalled that I'm 27 and still single and without children (GASP!) because everyone in our family (except my brother and me) was married at 22 and had their first child by 25, and 2. thinks I'm a lesbian.

Yup. That's why I'm still single. I'm gay.

After Dating Inquisition '08, courtesy of my Aunt, Uncle, and senile Grandma, I threw up in my mouth and then I figured I have to face the music and have the dreaded conversation with my parents. So, I made dinner this week invited them over, and told them over our delicious eggplant parmesean. I think they had already pieced together that I was dating someone, seeing as how I've basically abandoned spending time with them. Oops. My mother was pleased that I finally told her something personal, and my father peppered me with questions. I fully expected the interrogation, but I wasn't prepared to answer.

"Is he a Christian?" My father recognizes the quality that is most important to me in finding someone to spend my life with.
"Is he an Aggie?" My father recognizes that the positive answer to this question means that we have a common interest in something that is important to me. And it will help me avoid confrontation for years to come when discussing colleges and sports. Critical.
"Does he like sports?" The follow-up question to the Aggie question. My father recognizes that he must love sports to fit in the family and for me to be attracted to him. I love athletic men.
"Does he have two legs?" WTF?
"Does he treat you well?" I would like you to realize that my dad asked about his limbs before he asked if the person is respectful, kind, and chivalrous.

Luckily, all the answers to these questions are "YES!' and that makes me happy. Especially the part about him having two legs.

Follow-ups were: "What's his name? What does he do? Does he treat you well? Is he white?"

It was at this precious family moment that I told them his name is Jose Gonzales.

Ole.