Saturday night, playing Trivial Pursuit with my boyfriend’s Mum and Dad, I noticed a beautiful painting on the wall. I was a bit tipsy so I waxed lyrical about its beauty, its texture, and its moving composition.
The conversation, despite all the odds (art being a wonderfully suitable parent topic) did not end well.
Me: "I see you've put that flamenco dancer picture up"
Boyfriend’s Mum: "Yes, I just love it."
Me: "Oh, me too, it's so beautiful, the curve of her leg, the texture of her dress, I want to reach out and touch it. I mean, it's perfect, the colours are so vibrant, but set in onto the dull grey street background. It's striking; she is almost dancing out of the picture."
I go on like this for about twenty minutes, completely failing to answer any Trivial Pursuit questions correctly (but by now am convinced am on much higher level and more likely to impress with art appreciation).
Boyfriend’s Mum: "What do you think of the one over there?" Gestures to a smaller picture on the other wall. I don't like it. Having painted a picture of myself as "art connoisseur" I decide to be honest.
Me: "I don't like it. It's not my bag. It's a bit boring."
Boyfriend’s Mum: "I painted it."
I responded by trying to eat my own face.
Having failed at my attempt to eat my own face, I decided to try and undo my hurtful comments (which I had a horrible feeling might come back to haunt me).
I couldn't undo it, no matter how hard I tried. "Well obviously, it's great, I just meant I prefer pictures of people, flamenco dancers in particular. I don't like pictures of leaves, but if I did. I'd love that one. That's actually the best picture of leaves I've ever seen. It's just not a flamenco dancer, and that's what matters, to me. You know?"
The rest of the game lasted forever.