The last time I met a boyfriend's parents, it was actually quite painless. They were a lovely family, they were very sociable and welcoming and I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything to embarrass myself, or, if I did, my then boyfriend was much too diplomatic to tell me about it. Of course, a couple of months later, his sixteen-year-old brother walked in on me to find me wearing only a tiny set of lacy black underwear. His mother informed me I'd "traumatised him". I couldn't look him in the eye for weeks. But at least the first meeting went well.

The only near-disastrous event was sitting down to dinner to find a generous helping of peas on my plate. I dislike peas. Not with a passion or anything, I've just never liked them. My mother particularly enjoys (through gritted teeth) an occasion from when I was about six, and still having school dinners. I forget what else had been for lunch that day, but whatever it was, it had been accompanied by a serving of distinctly grey-looking peas. I didn't even eat the healthy-looking, plump green peas that my mother sometimes discreetly slipped on to my dinner plate, hoping I wasn't paying attention (I always was), so I sure as hell wasn't eating THESE.

Which, apparently, was a cardinal sin in the eyes of ourr dinner ladies, whom I seem to remember having the dress sense of 1970s librarians and the charm and social skills of pitbull terriers. Putting them in charge of small children was like putting a python in charge of a newborn litter of mice. Anyway, the menacing shadown of one of them, Mrs Birch (substitute the 'r' as appropriate), loomed behind me and thundered "You haven't touched your peas." And if I wasn't a sarcastic, bloody literal little cow now, I certainly was then - I stuck out my hand and placed it, palm down, on my untouched peas.

But back to my ex-boyfriend's house. Not wanting to look ungrateful for this lovely meal I'd been cooked, and not wanting to seem like a fussy eater, I steeled my nerves and ate every last pea on that plate. And I almost got away with it until my ratbag boyfriend tattled on me and told his mother I didn't actually like peas. Still, to her credit, she never cooked them again when I came for dinner.

The good thing about not exactly having an arsenal of ex-boyfriends is that I haven't had to go through the Meet The Parents scenario often. When I met my first ever boyfriend's parents, at the age of 17, his mum was friendly enough until she asked me if I'd ever been in the Brownies. I hadn't. I was actually banned from being in the Brownies, because it was apparently a certainty that I would "act up", but I didn't tell her that part. But the moment I said I hadn't, I could see in her eyes that I was not One Of Them.

But then his parents were just scary, terrifying individuals in the first place. His mum never forgave me for deflowering her baby, and once, when I had the bad fortune to titter at a dramatically drawn out burp his older brother emitted, his dad roared at me "Do you think that's FUNNY?!"

"Ummm..."
*stares at floor*
"No..."
*bolts for the front door*
"Sorry..."
*doesn't stop running until her legs have become charred stumps*

The reason I'm sharing these pointless and not particularly flattering stories, is because I'm likely to be meeting my current boyfriend's parents this evening. I'm assured they're all nice normal people and all I have to do is be myself (dear God, I'm screwed), but still...

It doesn't help that I'm tired, having had only four hours' sleep the past two nights (damn nights out and over-amorous boyfriends!). And because I'm tired, I'm grumpy, and just for extra fun, I look like crap today. I'm pinning my hopes on a lunchtime dash to the only clothes shop near my office, hoping to salvage my appearance somewhat. Still, at least they're not feeding me this evening, so whatever happens, or goes wrong, at the very least, it won't involve peas.

Anyway, in the interests of bolstering my confidence with a little schadenfreude, what I'm asking of you all today, is to please, please share any hideous or cringe-making stories you have of the first time you met a boyfriend or girlfriend's parents. My two stories were relatively pathetic, but I'm sure some of you can come up with the goods.......