My boyfriend, Darren, and I had been dating for about two months. He had already met my parents and it was pretty much routine that he would come over to mine every day. We seldom, however, went to his place because of his very strict and religious parents that he didn’t have the best relationship with. They only wanted him to date someone of the same religion and let me tell you I am the farthest thing from religious. Darren wasn’t allowed to have sex until he married, and he wasn’t allowed to drink, or anything. He often went against his parents’ wishes (more like demands) because of the stern restrictions they put on him. Because there was already tension in the household, it wasn’t a great time to be like “Hey, by the way, here’s my girlfriend that you don’t want me to have.”
Regardless, we were planning on introducing me to them soon since we were getting more serious, but we were waiting for the appropriate time. This was a guy I was really really in love with, and I wanted so badly for his parents to like me and for everything to be perfect. But when I did meet his parents, it couldn’t have gone worse.
One day I came over to his house when no one was home. He texted his parents to see when they’d be home and they said a couple hours, claiming they were doing something in the city. So Darren and I relaxed in bed talking which quickly escalated. We were both nearly naked when we heard a noise outside. Please just be the helper. There were footsteps, then a knock on Darren’s door. “Darren? We’re home,” said his mom. We both looked at each other in shock. Fuck fuck fuck what do I do fuck. “Yeah, one second,” Darren replied. We both jumped out of bed and scavenged the room for our clothes. I was still shirtless when there was another knock on the door. “Darren, whose shoes are outside? Who’s here?” “No one,” Darren said hesitantly. I looked at him eyes wide and mouthed “WHAT?” He shrugged his shoulders, obviously as freaked out as me. My brain went into panic mode, listing every possible option of what we could do. More knocking on the door. “Darren, open the door,” his mom demanded.
“Hide under the bed,” Darren whispered. “What?” I said, panicking. “Under the bed,” He repeated as I quickly slid under the bed without thinking, which at the time seemed like a better option than walking out and meeting them. It wasn’t. Darren opened the door and his mom barged in, starting to search the room. I could see her feet move around the room, checking under the desk and in the closet. “Where is she?” She screamed at him. He managed to push her out of the room and locked the door. I came out, TRAUMATIZED. “What the fuck did we just do?” I said to him. I considered never leaving his bedroom ever.
We figured we’d have to come out at some point so we opened the door, greeted by his parents’ surprisingly friendly faces. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” his mom said to me. “Nice to meet you too,” I said, shaking. “Would you mind if we had a word with Darren?” His dad said with a smile. “Of course,” I said, walking past them and out the door. As soon as the apartment door closed behind me, I could hear his parents screaming at him. I waited in the hallway next to the elevators for a few minutes waiting for Darren to come out, but the yelling never stopped. Traumatized and crying, I messaged my friends freaking out, then left to go home. Needless to say, it wasn’t the best first impression.