ExposedNYC

There are times when all the planning in the world can’t help. When there are things that you can’t control, it can be hard for a Type-AAA personality to relax and just soak it all in. And I had absolutely no idea what to expect when Boy Toy (as my friends from home have taken to calling him) picked me up from the airport.

I had my emergency kit of perfume, cleansing wipes and make-up in my purse and immediately ducked into the first bathroom I could find off the plane to make sure that my first impression wasn’t one of bed head and dried drool. For a moment I was secretly thankful for the security measures that no longer allow guests to meet you at the gate. Then I jumped on the phone and headed toward baggage claim.

I tried to control my shaking voice and infuse as much playful banter as possible into the phone call to coordinate our meeting spot, but having to ask what kind of car he was driving definitely dragged me into awkward territory. I’d only ever known him on a motorcycle, and my friends had teased all of the laughter out of picturing my bags dragging behind the bike like a sidecar down the freeway.

Then, mid-sentence, he surprised me when he appeared behind me, a grin on his face and a sweet bouquet of white tulips in hand. It was the perfect gesture- simple, pretty, but without any waft of expectations, and I’m ashamed to say that my first thought was how to explain the flowers to my parents after walking in the house.

I’ve never been able to talk easily with my parents about relationships, and something about coming home for the holidays turns me into the child who worried that her parents would embarrass her after finally convincing her crush to give her a ride home from school. I tried hard to remind myself that I was now a dating adult, but the simple acts of needing a ride and pulling up to the house of childhood memories were fairly convincing otherwise. My confidence is innately linked to my independence and taking away these touchstones of growing up had a sneaking way of making me feel that I had never grown up enough to earn them.

As we pulled up to the house, shades drawn and lights off, I breathed a deep sigh of relief for parents who know the value of sleeping in. I leaned over for a quick kiss goodbye, grabbed my bags insisting that I didn’t need any help and promised to call him after dinner. I dropped my bags in the middle of the living room floor, tip-toed into my old bedroom and slid the flowers onto the end table between an old sewing machine and potted plant, hoping that they wouldn’t wilt before I built up the courage to properly acknowledge them.

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