When my son went to college, it took him about six weeks to fall in love. He picked a terrific girl to fall for and they seemed to get more crazy about one another with every day that passed. He met her parents that summer, as his Boston-found sweetheart lived in Coto de Caza. He spent lots of time with them, but there was never an occasion for my husband and I to meet them.

As our children approached their “first anniversary,” I decided we should probably remedy that, so I pulled out my best Emily Post manners, dropped them a note and suggested we meet for dinner. They happily accepted, as curious about us as we were about them, no doubt.

To avoid unnecessary suspense for the readers, everything went beautifully and they were gracious, bright and interesting people. But as the date was set and the day approached, I found myself feeling downright tense. That may sound normal to you, but it’s a rarity for me. At my age and in my comfort zone, I can’t remember the last time I really gave two hoots what some new acquaintance thought of me. It’s one of the few perks of being semi-old.

But suddenly, here I was, agonizing over what to wear, how to behave and wanting very much for these parents of the girl my son adored to feel favorably toward me. I also hoped deeply that I would find them reasonably pleasant and possessing only one head each, with no horns. I felt 16 again. It was horrible.

Things became more curious when I started getting nervous e-mails from my son. “I’m really excited that you’re going to finally meet her parents. I know you’ll like them.” Then, “Good luck with your dinner. I hope it goes well.” Then, “Be sure to let me know how the dinner goes!” I even got one from the girlfriend, saying she hoped things went well, but to watch out for her dad. “He’s a crazy one!” I had this deep suspicion my son sent the same e-mail to them about me.

Finally, I just built up my courage with just the right outfit to project taste without pretension and headed out to make the best of it. Fortunately, my husband is always charming, so I knew I could default to him in a pinch. Things got hilarious once we compared notes with her parents. It seems they were receiving equally nervous messages from their daughter, saying things like, “I hope Dad doesn’t scare them!”

Her dad was great, and not in the least scary, but of course, our children know our life’s goal is to embarrass them. We try not to disappoint. Her father and I immediately bonded over a plan to e-mail the kids and tell them that we absolutely could not abide one another and would never again consent to set foot in the same place. Our spouses, however, urged us not to be so evil. I finally relented, but I can’t speak for her dad, and it still makes me chuckle.

When all was said and done, we enjoyed the same wine, shared many interests and never lacked for things to talk about. We swiftly agreed that our children were quite perfect, and went from there.

They were great, but I still left full of horrors on how to make my home presentable for a future visit (Remember? Coto de Caza?). Is it tacky to say I was relieved when they broke up last January? OK, then I won’t.