It's Not You, It's...No, Wait, It's You

I met my boyfriend at a funeral.  Our mothers had been trying to set us up for years but it never worked out.  While we grew up in the same town, we went to different high schools and had completely different social circles (i.e. I didn’t play Dungeons and Dragons). We also went to different colleges and therefore refused to be set up when we were home on breaks.

Then it happened.  We both couldn’t get out of going to the funeral of a mutual family friend.  It was an extremely sad situation but our mothers still saw this as the perfect opportunity for us to finally meet.  At the reception following the funeral, I was ambushed.  I saw his mom dragging him over to the table I was sitting at with my parents.  We introduced ourselves and awkwardly talked with our mothers for a few minutes before they abruptly turned and left us to talk on our own.

First, we acknowledged the awkward situation that was occurring.  We looked across the room and our mothers were gathered with their gossipy clan, staring at us and whispering.  Can you say “awkward!?”

Once that was out of the way, we actually started talking.  I don’t really remember what we talked about, but I remember not hating him.  I wanted to hate him because my mother thought I would like him.  Before I knew it the reception was over and we were walking towards our families (who had avoided us for the rest of the afternoon).  I gave him my phone number.  At a funeral.  In front of my parents.  Yes.  And that’s how we met.