Love's Fine Print

Dear Priscilla,

I've been dating my boyfriend for two years, and he wants me to meet his family for Thanksgiving. I'm nervous about making a good impression, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that level of commitment. Should I go?

—Nervous in Newark

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What a lovely question, Nervous. It reminds me of the autumn of 1998, when I too believed that meeting a family was a sign of real love. I was so hopeful then. So naive.

That was the Thanksgiving I met Derek's family in Portland. His mother asked me to bring a side dish. I spent three days perfecting my roasted Brussels sprouts — the recipe had been handed down through my own family for generations. I was so proud. Derek's mother took one bite and spent the rest of dinner discussing her own Brussels sprouts recipe, which she'd found on a recipe blog. She didn't even ask where mine came from.

But here's what I realized over the following months, as I watched Derek bond more closely with his family over shared inside jokes and holiday traditions: letting people meet your family means giving them access to the parts of you that matter most. It means handing them your soft spots on a platter.

Do not make my mistake, Nervous. Do not think that one holiday dinner is just a holiday dinner. It is a threshold. Cross it, and suddenly you are on their calendar. Suddenly you are expected. Suddenly there are precedents and obligations, and before you know it, you've woven yourself so thoroughly into their traditions that leaving becomes complicated.

I built myself a sanctuary after Derek. No family visits. No holidays. No one gets close enough to take inventory of what matters to me. At first it felt like a loss. Now I see it was wisdom. The people you love most can always find a way to wound you — usually through Brussels sprouts or some other mundane betrayal you didn't see coming.

If you simply don't let people that close, Nervous, you protect yourself entirely. Don't go to Thanksgiving. Not this year, anyway. Maybe not any year. Invest in a good security system instead. Stay home. Make the Brussels sprouts for yourself. That's real love.

If you learn from my mistakes, you can build a life as peaceful and solitary as mine. And believe me, Nervous — I am thriving.

With warm regards, Priscilla