"You're about to meet your partner's rich parents. What would you say in order to make them believe you are perfect for their son/daughter?"
He sits beside me, hand gently caressing my knee as he steers with the other. He knows how nervous I am.
"Don't worry, they'll love you."
I gulp. I'm not so sure.
He turns off the highway, driving up a long, winding road. My hands begin to sweat. We've been together for three years, but it's only now that his parent's have invited us out for dinner. I'm worried about what they may think. Not of us, but of me.
The road becomes a driveway. Perfectly manicured trees line the drive, which is also entirely well-kept. I knew they were rich, but who needs a road to stay so clean?
I go over what I'll say to them in my head. Especially if they ask me why I don't have a job, or if I'm only with him for the money. I'll admit that, in the past, I was not always so responsible - I would spend a hundred dollars like it was nothing, even if it was all I had. I'll admit that college was a huge wake-up. I learned quickly that I needed to save money. Rent was due, and groceries wouldn't just magically appear in the fridge. I knew my parents were only a call away, but I needed to prove to them and to myself that I could make it on my own. But then I met him. We understood one another. I was proving that I needed no one, and he was proving that he couldn't make it on his own. We were perfect together. I loved his selflessness and the way he gave to others. Most importantly, I loved who I was with him. For years, I've felt akin to a leech, sucking those around me dry. With him though, I was able to give back, and I loved it. I still do.
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
- William Shakespeare