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I hope you’re having a good holiday season. In fact, that’s why I’m writing to you: I don’t want to ruin the holidays with my issues. So here’s a quick run down of my backstory: my boyfriend (m/25) and I (m/25) have been together for two years, and he’s incredible. We’re very much in love and have a great relationship. However, there’s one significant issue: his parents.
This Christmas, like the last, I’m invited to spend the holiday at his parents’ house. The problem is, I really don’t like his parents. They’re not bad people, and they’ve always been kind to me, but we’re just fundamentally different in many ways – our interests, beliefs, and even sense of humor don’t align. At the risk of sounding snotty or snobbish, they’re not really cultured in the way I am, and they don’t get or understand a lot of the things I enjoy, and so we never quite understand each other. It’s almost like we’re talking two entirely different languages, with different cultural idioms, references and views of the world. It’s not for lack of trying, but there comes a point where even well-meaning and earnest attempts to connect just fizzle out and we’re all left just staring at each other with an increasingly awkward silence. This makes spending time with them exhausting and often uncomfortable for me.
I want to be clear: his parents are lovely people. They had some issues adjusting to learning their son was gay at first but they’ve been the sort of “show-up-at-Pride-parades-with-snacks-for-everyone” supportive types and if they get something wrong, they’re quick to apologize and try to get it right. They seem to genuinely like me and are always excited when I visit. My boyfriend adores his parents and is oblivious to my discomfort and I honestly would prefer to keep it that way because it’s my problem to solve, not his. He’s thrilled about spending Christmas together as a family and all their little traditions and I don’t want to disappoint him or create tension.
I’m torn between my love for my boyfriend and my discomfort around his parents. I want to be supportive and participate in his family traditions, but the thought of spending an extended period with his parents fills me with dread. How do I handle this situation without hurting my boyfriend or damaging our relationship?
Sincerely, Homesick for the Holidays
I’ll be honest, HFTH, I read your letter and I’m picturing Niles Crane trying to get through Christmas in Biloxi, Mississippi and quietly dying because he’s going to dinner at Applebee’s or something. And while admittedly it’s an amusing image, I feel like that might be an apt description of what’s going on here and, thus an entry into the problem.
In fact, based on your description of the situation, I wonder if this is a sort of city mouse/country mouse situation or awkward Hallmark home-to-the-small-town scenario where the big city boyfriend just can’t grasp the virtues of small town life.
(And TBH, as a dedicated city rat, I always feel my hackles rise a little during those movies. I swear I’m going to write a Christmas movie about someone stuck in the Bronx for Christmas and learning the joys of diverse communities, big-city conveniences and identities based around shared neighborhoods…)
It’s the sort of thing that feels a little like class snobbery, but also a little of the idea that the urban/rural divide is somehow so diametrically opposed to one another – a cultural oil and vinegar, of sorts – that the two can’t really blend without a lot of agitation in the process. And again, it’s a gift for someone trying to come up with a suitably pithy metaphor, but I think it speaks a little to mindset and where the actual problem lies. Not in your boyfriend’s parents so much as in how you see him and where he came from.
I bring this up, in part, because I wonder just how much of an effort you’ve actually made at meeting the parents where they’re at and how much of the barrier you’re feeling is the sort of snobbishness you say you’re trying to avoid. If you’re seeing his family as provincial or less sophisticated or enlightened, I can see a sort of mindset of “well of course my boyfriend can bridge this gap, our superior culture was what he was missing but I’m having to dial myself down to be at their level” coming up. This kind of thinking leads to situations like yours, where you’re physically present and participating but still holding yourself back. A sort of “I’ll do this because I have to, but I know I’m better than this” sort of attitude.
In fact, I see this happen in a lot of relationships in general, where someone will make a half-hearted attempt at participating in something their partner finds important but they find a little distasteful or that’s beneath them in some way. This is less “sharing in my partner’s interests” so much as touching a base (under duress) and doing as little as possible to still get the credit for being involved at all. In times like that, it’s almost better to say “hey, you do your thing with your friends who are also into it and we’ll meet up afterwards.” This way, at least, they don’t have to devote any mental or emotional bandwidth towards worrying that you’re not enjoying things, bringing down the group’s fun or otherwise trying to play cruise director while finding ways to keep you engaged.
However, that approach is a little harder to do during a holiday trip to see the fam. It’s definitely hard to do that without coming across as a little rude or stand-off-ish. So I wonder if, perhaps, even as you go and “participate”, you’re holding yourself back; you’re attending more as an anthropologist observing others from an elevated, outsider’s perspective, rather than someone who’s actually fully involved. This is the sort of thing that a lot of folks think they’re managing to hide, but it comes across in the way they behave. There’s a begrudging sort of “ok, fine“, that bleeds into your body language and overall attitude.
Since it doesn’t sound like you’re being asked to do or tolerate things that would be harmful or unpleasant (say, going to Christmas services in a very homophobic church), I wonder if maybe the issue is that you don’t actually commit and let yourself enjoy them. Is it possible that you’re holding back and approaching these trips with a level of detachment or irony for fear of… I dunno, losing some sense of cultural superiority? Is it possible that the simple sincerity of something you see as being more provincial or what-have-you strikes you as being a bit cringe?
Perhaps, for this Christmas, a gift you could give yourself would be that, instead of avoiding cringe, you cut out the part of yourself that cringes and just try connecting with the sincerity of it. Instead of thinking of your boyfriend’s family traditions as being less cultured, less sophisticated or whatever, you try letting go and just trying to enjoy it for what it is. If it helps, think of it as inhabiting a role; at first, you’re going through the motions, but as you relax into it, you may find that you enjoy it more if you don’t have your guard up.
The same goes with connecting with his parents. It sounds like they’ve been making an effort to reach out to you; perhaps it’s time to return the favor and try to reach out and try to appreciate things from their side of the divide. You may even find that it’s a little easier to start before you go, where it’s a little easier to explore their cultural milieu, knowing that your comfort zone is within easy reach.
Failing that, perhaps the way to get more comfortable is to connect with the way it brings your boyfriend joy. It may not be your favorite flavor of eggnog, but it’s his and if you can zero in on that and the joy of seeing him come to life with all the cheese and tinsel-covered glintz and gingerbread. You might even be able to find aspects of it that are more refined or complex than you’d previously expected.
The big thing to hang onto is that while you may not necessarily dig his family or their traditions, you can at least respect them and be a full participant. Even if you’re not having the bestest of the best times, is this something that you can manage for him, at least occasionally? Perhaps a compromise here would be, as is with so many couples, to alternate years – even years you visit his family for the holidays, odd ones you visit yours… or even have years where you bring the families to you. You might even be able to share (or start) some traditions of your own with his family… even if it’s just annual viewings of The Hogfather or Anna And The Apocalypse.
But, at the very least, give it an honest shot at letting your guard down and just trying to lean into the spirit of the thing. If you give it a couple of sincere attempts and it just doesn’t work, you can focus on the “at least respect it if you can’t enjoy it” aspect, if only for your boyfriend’s sake.
Good luck.
Yo Doc!
I’ve been reading a couple of the recent blogs, and have also fallen into the rabbit hole of reading some of your older responses too. I find myself resonating with a lot of what your viewers write in about. I don’t feel that my situation is particularly unique or even interesting, but I wanted to write in all the same. For me, dating has never come easily, I’ve been single for a very long time, and I’ll be honest and say that I’ve completely given up hope. I’m attending my first ever New Year’s party this year, and all I can imagine in my head is being sat at a bar, alone, while I watch those with partners and close friends out having fun. It’s depressing.
I’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf, but I’m certainly outgoing and likeable. I make it a habit of going places often enough, and I have a handful of people I get along with. However, I’ve noticed that I [don’t] experience the type of natural interactions that lead to close friendships or dates. For instance, I know many people who go to rock concerts that have met new friends or potential dates, but I’ve never had the fortune (which is even worse when I’m really into alternative women, but I digress). In many ways, it feels like I’m shielded from the rest of world, and that I’ll never get to experience what those around me have.
Sadly, it’s also lead to me developing the mindset of women being “unobtainable”, even though that’s not fair on them, and when I can acknowledge I’m attractive man with good qualities. The moment I see an attractive woman I find myself thinking that there is no way in hell she would ever want to be with someone like me, as the only experience I have is that they’ve never given me the time of day. I can’t see how I could ever think otherwise, because the evidence is there right in front of me. I find myself jealous of men that can meet and date these attractive women, I get sick when looking through social media, and it’s compounding into this deep sense of feeling unlovable.
I feel like I’m losing time with all of this. I know life doesn’t end at 25, 30, 35, 40 etc, but it’s like the ship has sailed and I’m waiting at the dock, hoping it will come back.
Left Behind
Alright LB, I’m going to do something that causes me to grind my teeth when other people do it to me: I’m gonna zero in on a metaphor you used and pick it apart as though the nitpicking somehow invalidates the message.
But stick with me for a moment, because I think in this case, it’s going to be instructional to poke at this for a moment. Specifically, I want to poke at the “I’m a bit of a lone wolf” comment.
If you’ve been reading my columns, you may have read what I’ve said about the stories we tell about ourselves and how those affect our attitude and our outcomes. I think part of the problem you have is in the story you tell yourself and the way it colors how you see the world.
See, when we talk about lone wolves, we tend to use it almost as an admirable trait; you’re an iconoclast, blazing his own trail, separate from the others, so unique that you aren’t easily understood. In some cases, it gets folded into the whole “sigma male” thing that mutated out of the bullshit alpha/beta divide.
But actual lone wolves aren’t admirable beasts striking out on their own. If a wolf leaves the pack it was born into, it’s usually a temporary measure; they’re not staying alone because they prefer to be alone, they’re almost always finding new territory, finding or starting a new pack. “True” lone wolves are anomalies; they’re not alone by choice and they’re weak and isolated, cut off from the strength and protection of a pack.
When you call yourself “a lone wolf” type, that suggests to me a romanticization of a sort of self-isolation. Not even in the sense of “I’m an introvert who needs a lot of alone time” – introverts are still social, still make friends and still have relationships – but in the sense of the “I walk this world alone because that’s just who I am”.
I suspect that mindset of isolation, powerlessness and “being shielded” from others is the issue, more than anything else. The way you describe things in your letter are very passive – things don’t happen to you or for you the way they do for others. You “can’t help” but picture things or can’t imagine things going any other way. It’s just “who you are”.
But, as I’m often saying, “You” and who “You” are is a concept that’s always in flux. It’s true in as much as you decide it’s true. That “evidence” isn’t evidence, it’s just how you’ve handled things thus far and how you’ve chosen to look at it. You can say “It’s proof that it will never happen” or you can say “this just means it hasn’t happened, yet.” You can decide that everything that has happened up until now is definitive and permanent, or situational and temporary.
So far, you’ve decided that it’s definitive and permanent. But I would point out that you are the one who’s decided this.
The problem is: you’re setting yourself up for failure this way. I mean, shit, you’re talking about going to a New Year’s Eve party – an event that’s weeks away at the time of writing – and you’re already crafting a narrative in your head about how this is going to be an empty, lonely night of misery for you, alone in a crowd of merrymakers.
Well… yeah. That’s exactly what’s going to happen… because that’s precisely what you’re setting yourself up to expect. You’ve already written this off, long before you’ve even gotten in the Uber to go. You’re going to be wandering in with an attitude of “Nobody wants to talk to me, nobody’s going to even notice I’m here” and that’s precisely what’s going to happen. Why? Because you’re going to get there and likely sequester yourself in a corner out of the way, with the sort of closed off, anti-social body language that tells people you would rather be left alone. As a result, you’ve paid good money to go and just watch other people have a good time, instead of taking an active hand in your own life.
And taking an active hand is precisely what seems to be missing here. Part of the reason why you know people who meet friends and partners at concerts and you don’t is because they actively try to talk to people. They’re deliberately making connections with folks, even if it’s starting as two people bouncing off each other in the mosh pit. Even if they’re not going to the concert specifically to meet people, I’m willing to bet you that they’re of the mindset that they might meet cool folks, that cool peopel there are going to be excited to meet them, and they are open to the possibility of making new friends in the process.
That mindset is important because it’s going to affect not just how you behave, but how you see things. If you are going to an event with the mindset that nobody’s going to want to talk to you or you just aren’t someone who can do X, then you’re not going to see the people who might want to connect with you. Your eyes will perceive them, but your mind will tell you that you’re mistaken, that you’re misreading the situation or that there’s no way they’d want to talk to you. So you won’t bother trying to talk to them. Or if you do, you’ll do so with the attitude that you’ve already been rejected and so you just half-ass the entire encounter and then walk away with your metaphorical tail between your legs. And then you’ll take that as confirmation that you’re doomed to be alone and the cycle will continue.
So yes, I am telling you that part of the answer to your problem is to start talking about yourself and to yourself differently. Positive self-talk and a positive attitude sounds like woo-woo-feel-good-manifest-your-life bullshit… but it actually works. These are the things that Navy SEALs are taught as part of building the emotional resilience they need to get through Hell Week.
So maybe instead of describing yourself as a “lone wolf” type, think of it more as “I’m looking to establish my pack”. Instead of choosing to imagine a long, sad New Years Eve of loneliness, you choose to see it as a great night, where you’re up beat and excited to meet people, a night full of possibility and adventure that’s just waiting for you to reach out and pursue it. You don’t “acknowledge” that you have your good points, you celebrate them and recognize that people would be lucky to be with you. You don’t frame your life as as “the only experience I have is rejection”, you see it as “my rich inner life is incredible and the right people will connect to it when I share it with them,” and then resolve to actually share it.
Now this isn’t my telling you to embrace a Panglossian level of delusion where you pretend that you’ve been a social butterfly your entire life and that this is merely a speed bump on your way to forming a social circle. Rather it’s taking the events that have happened up until now and changing the perspective that you see them from. Is it that you’re a lonely loser that nobody could ever love… or is it that you’ve been pulling yourself up from the dirt and your story is one of overcoming challenges, laying foundations and building your way to an incredible present and even better future?
To put it another way: was Luke Skywalker a go-nowhere, do-nothing bumpkin stuck out in the booniest of boonies in the Outer Rim, or someone who’s whole life was leading up to the moment where he answered the call to adventure? Rough beginnings in stories are what set the stage for arcs of growth and discovery, improvement and connection.
You’re the audience for your own story… and you’re the one who’s telling that story. So if you’ve missed the boat, you can stand at the docks and sob… or you can dive in the water and swim after it. Or hop a train to further up the coast and catch it at its next port of call. Or get a ticket and fly to the destination instead.
The past is merely prologue. You have the opportunity to start your story and change your story. So you may as well start now, telling yourself that this is going to be the year that you have an amazing New Year’s experience. Prime yourself to have a great time, right now. As cheesy and cringe as it may be, start looking in the mirror and talk about all the stuff you like about yourself and what makes you awesome. Talk, out loud, while looking at yourself, about the things that are going to happen, the people you’re going to meet and the adventures you’re going to have because by God you know damn good and well you can do this. Roll into that party with an attitude of “there’re going to be people at this party who I want to meet and who want to meet me. I’m going to have stories of what happened that night, and when I get to that party, I’m going to find them.”
The more you remind yourself that you’re not a helpless observer in your own life but the leader of your journey, the more you remind yourself that you have to take charge of your experience. Not a “I did it once or twice, half-heartedly, so clearly it’s not going to happen” but a “I’m going to make this happen and if God closes a door, I’m going to blow open a hole in the wall instead.”
You can either be someone that life happens to, or someone who makes things happen in their lives. Right now, you’ve been the former. It’s time to start being the latter. And the first step towards that is telling yourself how it was is what sets the stage for how it’s going to be.
Good luck.
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