Not Again! Uncle’s Newest Girlfriend Qualifies for Kids’ Table at Thanksgiving

It’s 7:02 pm, and you see your Uncle Dave’s car pull up to Grandma Betty’s for Thanksgiving Dinner. He’s the type of uncle who communicates in grunts and says things like “look how big you’ve gotten” as if it's still a compliment now that you’re twenty. He has a job but you have no idea what it is, and you’ll probably never know. Dave has the type of face that would be utterly forgettable if he was not your uncle. 

He’s walking up to the door and -- who’s that you see on his arm? A blonde woman wearing a Brandy Melville cardigan who looks like a skincare model for L’Oreal if they had a teen brand? Yup, it’s his girlfriend! 

Her name is Clarissa, and she’s so excited to be here. She’s 27 and just got an MFA in filmmaking (her movies are all paranormal and/or erotic). Dave paid for her grad school, but it’s totally not like that. They’re in love! She’s added you to her close friend's story before the hors d'oeuvres, posting a selfie in which she refers to you as her “girlie.”

But you’re not her girlie. You’re the arbiter of who sits at the kid's table, and you have some bad news for Clarissa: she hasn’t quite made the cutoff for the adult's table. “What? But I’m over 21, shouldn’t I be with Dave and the adults” she says to you, confused. “Yeah, but a tomato is technically a fruit, and we don’t put it in a fruit salad,” you reply, sagely. She takes an awkward seat. 

Your mom (Dave’s sister), is on your side, namely because she doesn’t want to sit with anyone that a) doesn’t remember 9/11 or b) took the SAT after they converted it to be out of 1600.  Dave is obviously a little uncomfortable without his date, but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise: your family likes to discuss politics, and he didn’t want to explain to her what NATO was for the 100th time. 

So it’s you, your little siblings, your unvaccinated cousins who cannot under any circumstances eat red dye #4, and Clarissa. It’s actually pretty fun: she shit-talks your annoying Grandma Betty (no one wants a fucking tofurkey) and lets you hit her CBD-infused vape (that she has for medicinal and spiritual purposes) before dessert. Next year, however, you hope that, for Dave's sake, he brings someone who doesn't unironically use Snapchat.