The evening started off a little slow as he had to make the rounds catching up with all the seldom seen relatives. His cousin Jeff just got into law school. Meghan, his third cousin twice removed, just had her second kid. Uncle Mort recovered from his broken hip just in time to make it. Thank goodness for the open bar or he would have thrown himself under Grandpa Pete’s motorized wheelchair just to get away from it all.
That was until he saw her from across the room. It wasn’t so much that when their eyes met it was like two star-crossed lovers passing in the night. No, when their eyes met, he could tell. He could tell that it was on and was going to be a good night. He’s seen the look she gave him before. It’s the look that he has often given the ladies. There’s no getting around it, she just eye-fucked the shit out of him.
Three drinks, two dances, and about a minute of small talk later, they were in the coat room going at it like a couple of teens in the back of a prom night limo after splitting a fifth of Peach Schnapps. It was one of those sloppy make-outs where you just want to go up to them and say slow down turbo (that is, if you could actually stomach walking in on them). Seven minutes in heaven later, they composed themselves and walked out to rejoin the festivities.
After a little over the clothes groping, he thought it would only be polite to ask her name. Jennifer. Feeling obligated, he followed up. So Jennifer, where are you from? Ohio. Oh, I’ve got some relatives there. Where in Ohio are you from? Columbus. What a coincidence, that’s where my Aunt Lois is from. That’s weird; my mom’s name is Lois. Huh. By any chance, is your uncle’s name Stewart? Yeah, about that… things just got a whole mess of awkward.
After this genetic disaster wrapped in a familial fiasco topped with a sprinkling of shame, we’re pretty sure you can take their names off the guest list for next summer’s family reunion in Palm Springs.