Family Meeting

October 16, 2023

Dear Journal,

Today I met his family. Or at least, virtually. I was reading for my Spanish class at the dining room table when he comes up to me and asks if I want to meet his brothers. I feel somewhat annoyed since I was trying to get some work done but I feel relieved at the same time, because the text was difficult to decipher. And I mean, I have been willing to meet them. To have them ooh and ahh over something my boyfriend’s intentionally holding back from them. It’s a little unexpected but I’m not one to shy away from uncomfortable moments so I tell him yes, yeah I’d love to meet them.

His tiny phone screen reveals four rectangles peppered with color and detail and movement, yet all of the faces really resemble his own. His youngest brother captures my attention because this young man in the lower right rectangle looks exactly like the pictures I’ve seen of my boyfriend as a child. It’s eerie. I feel like I’m looking in the physical past, when I have the present sitting right next to me in this moment. I felt a little tense, I realize now as I write this, but I didn’t register that at the time. I felt a little nervous, like I was at an audition or some job interview.

I’m taking stock of how my body feels because I think it’ll give me insight into how I really feel about this whole thing. See if I like his family or not. See if I like him or not. And the truth is that I don’t really feel impressed by his family. Sure, they’re tightly knit. But there’s a lot of teasing, and even if it’s friendly it’s not something I’m in to. I prefer to keep my words literal, and my affections clear and obvious. His mom seems like a sweetheart, and his brothers had their friendly questions for me. But this is only one glimpse. Perhaps I can build my own connection to them that differs from the one present among this family. The “inter” can be different from the “intra”.

I think I felt a little dread. I can’t imagine being happy with them, at least not my true best self. I mean, we’re different. They’re free, loud and chatty, and I’m quiet, introspective and sensitive. I’m worried that I’ll lose my sense of self if I join them. Of course, I am willing to find a common middle ground but sometimes I simply do not wish to. Sometimes I don’t want to have to suck it up. Maybe that’s what I will pick eventually. Go find happiness elsewhere. I don’t know the resolution to this. Maybe I can’t admit the truth (or am unwilling) to myself again after the disappointment and pain of Michael. Again, I don’t know how to resolve this. But I do know that it’s nine minutes until midnight, and my bed calls me. Godspeed.

Love as always,

AMY LEE