Rustin and the Folks

By Allison Kaplan

The first time Rustin met my parents, he ran up with open arms and blurted: "Hi Mom!"

I'm not sure who was more horrified, my mother or I.

We had been dating all of a few months. I had only started calling Rustin my "boyfriend" because the relationship clout helped me convince him to cut his stringy, long hair. This too-personal salutation was rushing about 412 steps ahead - and in front of my mother.

My mother, who to this day will look at me cockeyed every so often and wonder out loud, in a General Foods International Coffee kind of way, "Do I know you?"

Please, Mom.

It was only last month my mom called me up because she had to be sure, for the 5,726th time, that I really love Rustin. She just wants to make positively certain I'm 110 percent happy. There's no such thing as taking too much time to decide.

So starting off with "Hi Mom" did not score Rustin any points on the charm scale.

Rustin frantically explained he calls all of his friends' parents "Mom and Dad" - everyone finds it endearing.

He had found the girl he will marry, and the family that does not consider calling all parents "Mom and Dad" endearing.

A week after we got engaged, Rustin called my dad "Mr. Kaplan." My dad was hurt. Rustin feels comfortable enough to join the family, but still thinks of my father as a mister? My parents asked themselves - silently, but we noted the look - if maybe they had been blinded by their zeal to get us married.

Apparently engagement is the point at which my parents are comfortable being called "Mom and Dad" by someone other than their offspring. Lucky for my younger brother, his future bride will have advance warning.

Rustin can't switch gears just like that. He's still wearing neon orange swim trunks and owns a car that is old enough to get its own driver's license. In years of fantasizing about marriage, we never prepped for the changing family dynamic. No one told us.

It took Rustin months to get used to my family's "formality" - we call it respect. He can't suddenly undo all that "Mr. and Mrs." training. Did I also want him to forget the progress we've made with matching clothes and getting out of bed before noon?

I was sympathetic, but amused every time Rustin took a deep breath, a moment's meditation, and carefully pronounced "Hi...DAD."

This was before we visited Rustin's family to celebrate the engagement news. I decided to deal with our new connection directly. I asked Rustin's mom, forever "Mrs. Wolfe" to me, what she would like to be called.

She wants "Mom." Now. She's only been anticipating this moment for three years. Another year to plan the wedding is no excuse. Rustin's turn to laugh.

There we were at a noisy dinner party, Rustin's parents all the way across the table. And I wanted to talk to them.

I willed Mrs. Wolfe to look over, never altering my gaze for fear of missing that split second eye contact. No luck.

I started to speak. Loud enough to gain the ear of everyone else in the room, but Rustin's parents were consumed with crab cakes.

Oh, forget it. Whatever I had to say couldn't be that important.

No, wait. This was unacceptable. I have prided myself on how well I get along with Rustin's family. I felt like I was part of the gang long before receiving this silly (okay, not so silly) engagement ring. I refused to back track, now that I'm truly becoming a member of this other family.

It was time to go, my last chance. I gave Rustin's dad a hug. I didn't have to address him, but certainly, it adds that bit of warmth sales consultants are going for when they return your credit card with a disgustingly knowing "Thanks, Allison" That's Ms. Kaplan, to you, lady.

We released our embrace and I said to Rustin's father, "Bye Mr. - oops, ah - Dad."

Mr. Dad. Could that work?

Later, I'm relaying this tale to my mother, who is still glowing from Rustin's "Hi Mom" a few moments earlier, and suddenly she becomes very quiet.

"Mrs. Wolfe wants you to call her Mom? But I'm your mom."

Well it's about time someone acknowledges the strangeness of this.

At least I come by the over-analysis rightly.

Send comments to Allison at Singlstyle@aol.com