Meeting the parents is always like flirting with the future:
Flirting with the future and tripping awkwardly, trying to be as taciturn as possible but the future beckons. The beckoning future has hair, has skin; the beckoning future has unlooking eyes. In the future, there is a long long long table and all the family is one. There are two people brushing elbows with each other. There might be some oneness. The future might flirt back.