This weekend, A and I plus two friends will go explore Philadelphia, his hometown, and we will be staying with his family.
Funnily enough, this won't be the first time one of us has done so. Ethnic stereotypes be damned, he spent the night at my house over the summer.
I invited him and a couple others to a family barbecue, and given the distance from the city, said invite included a stay at what has been referred to as the (insert my last name) B&B. When I picked him and J, our close mutual friend, from the metro, they came bearing a tupperware of roasted zucchini. We swam, ate, mingled with family friends, ate, helped clean up, ate, and nearly passed out from food coma on my bedroom floor. He shuffled off to the guest bedroom, and J (obviously a girl) and I snuggled.
Then there was the time I met his dad while out and about. He rattled off fun facts about me ("Afghan! Lives in Virginia!") that he remembered hearing from A, and I exclaimed that father and son have the same mannerisms.
All very very different circumstances.
I'm meeting his parents. I'm meeting his parents?
This should be interesting.