If you know me personally, you know that I’m usually pretty good in social situations.
I’m quick with the wit, don’t always smell bad, and remember to flush.
But my husband’s grandmother makes me nervous. She’s old world, as in schooled at a French convent, forks in the right place, English isn’t her first language (French is), and you better know what color wine to serve, kind of frightening. I only see her about once a year, but I think that only makes it worse. I feel like I have nine hours to make a good impression that has to last until our next visit.
We were sitting at the kitchen table, eating hors d’oeuvres (as in, I was trying not to spit out my bacon wrapped dates–the one thing that bacon does not make taste better) when she grabbed my arm and looked right at me.
“It’s very important to me that your daughter learns French. It’s a part of her heritage, and when I’m gone, I want her to have that, so she knows where she’s from.”
Whoa. This woman was serious. Her eyes filled with tears, and I could tell she needed to hear something comforting.
Fast thinker that I am, I knew just the thing to say, “I know some French!”
She smiled at that. Thank goodness. “You do? I’d love to hear it.”
And only as the words came out of my mouth, did I realize what I was saying, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Ce soir?”
Translation: Will you sleep with me? Tonight?
My only hope was that I’d somehow messed up the pronunciation and accidentally said something innocent. Her eyes bulged and the room went silent. She knew exactly what I’d just asked her.
Yup, that’s right, I quoted the lyrics from that Lady Marmalade song about hookers soliciting people for sex.
To my 85 year old French grandmother-in-law…