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Gordo (10-19-17)

In the near future, you are making dinner because you are about to meet your girlfriend's dad for the first time. All you have in the kitchen is cooked frozen steaks. In walks your girlfriend and her dad, Gordon Ramsey. [link to post]

“Oh! Of course.” I slapped my forehead mentally, then reached out to shake his hand. I didn’t watch much TV, but I heard the name enough to say, “hey, that guy’s famous” to myself. When my girlfriend realized my embarrassment she made a face. It was a bad face, I knew that. I’d only seen it once before, but my memory is no computer. Thus, I lacked the ability to judge how bad it was. He shook my hand in return. Before he spoke, my gf interrupted.

“Dad, Sit down. PLEASE be nice. Don’t say a word. This means a lot to me,” She begged her father and led him way, almost hiding me from him. I embarrassed her. Definitely a bad face. “I need to have a word with the LOVE OF MY LIFE over here.” Ouch. She dragged me out of the kitchen, across the house, then into the bedroom.

“I love you. You know that, right?” She asked, her eyes were twinkling. My favorite look. I decided against unbuckling my pants immediately, just in case it was a trap. I nodded at her and smiled, I took a couple of steps toward her for a hug. She pushed me off.

“LISTEN! I told you THE FIRST NIGHT WE MET! I told you again for our Six-month anniversary. I knew you’d forgotten way before, but it didn’t really seem important other than you might meet him. Same thing 6-months later. Today. Our one year anniversary. I told you two weeks ago, and you put it in your calendar. Where’s your phone?” She glared at me.

“Out there, you know I like music while I cook,” I said. Her eyes softened, and she smirked a bit.

“I do know that! You’re so cute when you dance.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Forget the phone, I just wanted to show you it’s on your calendar. Listen. My dad is used to people making a big fuss. Thanks to your wonky brain, now he’s doubting whether you know who he is.” I realized I should visit with my mother more. I could not pinpoint her emotional states that easily or precisely.

“My dad LOVES practical jokes, he’s where I got it from. You’re on the fence anyway, let’s pretend you have no idea who he is. But since he’s doubting it, you’ve got to admit it. Fair?” She asked. A romantic relationship between jokers is serious business. Terms need to be clear and agreed on by both parties.

“Good,” I said. I was willing to admit that regardless, but i had my own terms I wanted to bring up. “It’s been a year. I love you, but I have to know there’s more. I need a reason to go out there and intentionally make a fool of myself in front of your father.” I knelt down in front of her. “After tonight, whatever your father thinks of the joke, you and I discuss how fun marriage can be? Fair?” I pulled out an engagement ring and smiled at her. Her answer was punctuated by her palm shoved against my forehead. I toppled over like fainting goat.

“FAIR! You fucking idiot, oh my god. We can’t let my dad know we’re engaged, you’re supposed to ask his permission.”

“Why?” I asked. I stood up from the floor and kissed her shoulder. We were engaged!

“Because he’s old school,” She said. I knew better, but emotions are hard to wrangle. Despite me holding the words back she saw the flash of concern wash over my face. “Of course I’m going to marry you either way. But there’s no reason to burn that bridge right out of the gate.” She kissed me. “Let’s focus on tonight, engagement starts tomorrow,” My fiancee’ said as she opened the bedroom door.

“WHAT!? YOU’RE ENGAGED TO THIS TWAT?!!” Her father yelled through the newly opened door. He glared at me. “This loser he was going to serve me this meat?” He threw a steak at me. “It’s so processed it can build a Dyson Sphere!” He threw another steak at me. I lay huddled in fetal position with my body heaving, trying to control my emotions. It would be over for someone very soon.

“Daddy! That’s not how he acts! ” She yelled and looked hurt, about to storm off. The laughter I’d been fighting back stopped instantly. Oh, no. Too far. I needed to fix it fast. I gave up first.

“I’m sorry Mr. Ramsey sir!” I shuffled around on the floor from fetal position to a groveling position. “I didn’t know who you were THE Gordon Ramsey.” Admitting I knew who he was meant I lost his blessing. He glared at me, then looked at my Fiancee’ . Then back to me with warmer eyes. He hung his head.

“I’m not the famous Gordon Ramsey. That’s just my name, and I happen to vaguely look like him,” He admitted, giving up his side. He helped me up off the floor. “You made the right choice. You twats have my blessing.”

“You asked for his blessing already?” She asked me. “Did you forget?”

“Forget? Do you know how often, ‘My dad is Gordon Ramsey’ pops out of your mouth? I love you, but I have to tune it out sometimes. Six months ago I asked your dad for his blessing. He agreed to a contest. I had to make it six months without ‘knowing’ who he is in front of you. Even though, he obviously isn’t. Why were you playing that up?”  My fiancee turned beet red.

“When I started dating my dad started one of his bets. We agreed that I could date as long as I convinced every boy I dated that he was the famous Gordon Ramsey. I guess it was just habit at this point. I really tried to hold it back with you!” Her dad shrugged.

“Call me Gordo. Let’s go out to eat, I score free food pretty easily.”  


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