Date: September 18th, 2010
I'm generally a social creature. I like hosting parties. I like going to parties. I enjoy the company of friends. That being said, one thing I've not done, by chance, was host a friend or boyfriend's parents in my home. Mainly because I've tended to lean on my folks for doing the hosting, but partly because, quite frankly, I just didn't feel established enough to do that before now. What I mean is that for the first time in my life, recently, I've really come to feel as though the age of the people I invite over doesn't matter. I've stopped worrying as much about being seen as a kid and started just enjoying how comfortable my place is to be at.
There's not much to tell about the actual entertaining. Justin's dad and stepmom came over to watch the Michigan game. It was wholly disappointing, despite Michigan pulling out the win. I love the Maize and Blue, I really do, but the game brought back horrible memories of last season. Michigan fans remember last season. When we roflstomped (its a technical term) the easier opponents and then lost basically every game after that? Yeah. I remember. I wept. Our defense is looking about the same as before. To my untrained eyes at least.
That being said, I greatly enjoyed the sense of solidarity that comes from watching the game with people. Don't get me wrong. PJ's, popcorn and my screaming at the television is another fantastic way to enjoy football; but none of my past boyfriends or boyfriend's families have really liked football before. And, you know, screaming at an inanimate object seems slightly less crazy when other people are there joining in the fun.
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