The family’s gathering around. Your house is full of extended family members that has forced you to sleep on the basement couch with the rest of your siblings.

It was only a matter of time before the questions started firing off.

The look in your uncle’s eye as you walked out of the basement and over to the chips 'n dip.

“So how’s school going?” That’s an easy one that you can usually get away with by using a couple of mumbled lines about your senior year workload or, if you’re feeling ambitious, a fun fact about your school.

You could have been off the hook there, but you had to go in for another chip. Damn you artichoke dip.

“So what’s coming up next for you?” Yikes, you should have been anticipating this one, and yet you’re unprepared.

I tried to play this one off this Thanksgiving with a cool, “Well, another chip is coming up next for me,” which he responded, “No, I mean after you graduate and you’re no longer in college?” It was a tough crowd.

“Well, I’m still applying, you know, the goal is to not live in my parents’ basement after school.”

As I responded I could see the pity in their eyes. I could see the articles they read about millennials with college degrees working as Starbuck’s baristas crashing down around them.

He patted my hand. “Oh, you’ll be fine, you don’t have anything to worry about.” And with that I successfully escaped by pretending to help my mom stir something in some pot on the stove.

As I stirred the pot, I kicked myself because I should have been more prepared. Instead of re-watching "The Office" episodes downstairs, I should have been making note cards with answers to difficult questions. But little did I know that the questions were far from over.

Next scene, the Thanksgiving dinner table. This is the big stage. The whole family’s there and ready to hear my forced answers. Almost as soon as the blessing was over, my grandma hit me with a swift uppercut.

“So, who’s the lucky guy in your life?”

I gazed into the mashed potatoes I was scooping onto my plate wishing they would give some help.

I suddenly wished I was sitting at the kid’s table where they were discussing Justin Bieber’s new album and how much dessert they were going to eat.

I could have responded with the truth. “Well grandma, I’ve been snapchatting this guy for like 10 days straight, so I guess you can say things are getting pretty serious.”

But I didn’t. I responded with the same thing all single people have been saying for centuries. “Oh you know, I’m just playing the field, sampling the fish in the sea.” I’m pretty sure if you looked at the cavemen drawings, there would be a picture of a single person “playing the field.”

And then came the chorus of replies that single people have been hearing for centuries. “Oh, those boys don’t know what they’re missing,” “I’m sure they’re just intimidated!” “There’s someone for everyone.” I quickly grabbed my wine glass and gulped until the subject changed.

Luckily, they switched to a different topic and I was spared the subject of ex-boys and awkward dates.

By dessert, I was feeling great and full and pleasantly lubricated by red wine. I was ready for the questions. So far I was 0 for 3, so really, I could only go up from there.

“Marissa, you go to church every Sunday, right?”

Damn. 0 for 4. I’ll get them next year.