It’s not important for your friends and family to like/enjoy the company of your girlfriend. It’s actually as important as the number of cup holders in your car. After all, you don’t need cup holders when you have a pair of functioning hands. Sure it is convenient to have cup holders, but you can live without, just like you can live peacefully with a girlfriend who isn’t accepted by your friends and family.
It took me many years to learn this fact; in high school, I never had a girlfriend that was acceptable by friends and family alike. It is, in fact, a lot to ask of a girl to display the necessary class and charisma required to linger between socializing with friends one night and having dinner family the next.
I’ve had girlfriends who got along with my friend, but not my family. And girls who got along with my family, but not with my friends. Even girls who didn't get along with my friends and family; heck, I’ve even dated girls that I didn’t get along with! The real tragedy is I once had (HAD) a girl who got along with both! They do exist.
One would’ve assumed this makes life easier and one would be fucking incorrect. Understand that, in theory, it would be an ideal situation if it weren't for the fact that my friends and family eventually started to like this particular girl MORE than they liked me! When your friends and family like your girlfriend to such an extent, it is like having a dozen aunts as your only friends.
And they're all over 30.
And unmarried.
And Jewish. Is that a racist stereotype? The answer: only if it wasn't true. Let me explain – the North American, domesticated, over thirty, unmarried, Jewish aunt has an impeccable memory. It’s science. Because of this gift, all the horrible shit you ever did as an adolescent immediately comes back to bite you in the ass – because your yenta friends make it a pain in your ass. Your former friends will consider that brash, blunder-filled history destined to repeat itself and drive her away. Luckily, they all remind you – in case you actually forgot.
"You better be nice to her! Not like the time when you ____________!"
"You better take her some whore nice! Not like that time when you ___________!"
They would repeatedly remind me basing their rationale on a few failed relationships with girls who lacked self-esteem (just like I like ‘em [because they’re easily attracted to me like flies to a fly zapper]), but that's another story for another day.
My dad was the worst when it came to this girl! He even had a check list of requirement and expectations that needed to be met before we’d go on a date. He never cared about my previous, self-esteem lacking girlfriends, but this girl must have been the daughter he always wanted.
Therefore, before I’d take her out:
1. My car had to be freshly vacuumed…
2. …the exterior should be clean, too.
3. I had to shave (and a hair cut wouldn’t be a bad idea either)
4. My clothes had to be ironed
5. And (this is the important part), if necessary and sometimes when it wasn’t necessary, my father – who made me sign-up to work as early as legally possible and had me working for money years before it was legally possible - would give me money for our date!
I always had a job and even paid my own bills. Nevertheless, dad made sure I could afford appetizers, desserts, and even candy at movie theater prices!
Eventually, you’re told that you're going to “fuck up" enough times that it is all you can think about. Every date has the pressure of a first date with the added responsibility of your friend’s and family’s happiness – because they won’t let you be happy if and when you fuck-up again.
Naturally, the prophecy comes true and you do fuck-up. Royally. Finally, you can look forward to the aftermath of the break-up when all your loyal friends and family declare, “I knew you’d fuck-up”. To make things worse, your own mother says "I knew you'd fuck-up and I’m still sending her a Christmas card!”
Not only did you let the girl down, you let everyone you know down. It’s a lot like never letting Cinderella reunite with Prince Charming in the end. That’s why it’s easier to date imperfection – and there’s a lot of it out there.
