Ive been living with a man for two months and everything seems fineuntil I meet his mother. After just thirty minutes at dinner, her interrogation and his silence show me the truth, and I walk out of that house forever.
After two months of living with Thomas, life is ordinary. Our routine is calm, predictable, almost a tad dull, but theres a quiet sort of safety in it. Thomas comes across as a responsible sortworks in IT, hardly ever goes out, doesnt drink, and the flat is always neat and peaceful. Were both thirty, both steady and sensible, seriously thinking about the future. Wed moved in rather quickly, but at the time it felt like the natural thing to do.
Despite my nerves, I go along with meeting his mother. I buy a dessert, slip into a simple dress, and attempt to calm myself like any girl would before facing her boyfriends mum for the first time.
Suzanne, his mother, arrives right on the dot at seven. She strides in, barely noticing my greeting. Her eyes sweep over the flat, inspecting every detailjudging, not missing a thing. She pauses at the bookshelf, nods, and heads straight to the kitchen. Theres no hint of warmth in her, just authority and control.
At the table, she sits perfectly upright, hands folded in her lap, staring at me so sharply I suddenly feel about two inches tall.
Well then, she begins, lets get to know you. Tell me a bit about yourself.
I tell her Ive worked in logistics for a few years. Is your job stable? Your income, steady? she fires off. Have you got a proper employment contract? Can you prove it?
Although taken aback, I answer politely and honestly, saying its more than enough for me. Thomas quietly puts food on plates, not acknowledging that any of this is unusual. Do you have your own place, or did you just move in here? she presses. I rent my own flat, I reply.
I see, she says coldly. We dont want any surprises. Some women like to be independent but end up relying on a man in the end. Each question is another jab at my nerves. She asks about past relationships, my parents, any family health problems, drinking, debts, children. Everything.
I try to answer briefly but politely, keeping my composure as the tension mounts. Thomas remains silent, intent on his meal, as though none of it concerns him.
After thirty minutes comes the question that reveals everything: Do you have any children?
No, I answer, drying my throat. And thats surely a private matter.
It isnt private! she snaps. Youre living with my son. He wants his own family, his own children, not to raise someone elses. Youll need to see a doctor and get proof that youre healthy and capable of giving us grandchildren. Youll pay for the tests yourself.
I look at Thomas. He shrugs, as if to say, This is normal. Mums just concerned. He murmurs, Mum worries. Maybe you should. Everyone would feel better.
It hits me then: Im not a partner, not an equal. Im just a candidate under judgment, someone who has to win his mothers approval.
I rise from the table. Where are you going? she demands. Were not finished here.
Im leaving, I say quietly. Its been an experience, but this will be our last meeting.
I walk to the hallway and pack my things. Thomas follows me. Youre overreacting, he says. Mum just wants whats best for me. No, I say, buttoning up my coat. Your mother wants a housemaid, not a partner. And youre happy with that. Im not.
As I leave, a wave of relief washes over me. Later, Thomas rings and texts, saying Im being dramatic, and that normal women manage to fit into a mans family. I dont argue. Im just grateful its happened nowbefore any wedding, before years of my life could have been turned over to a future like that. Deep down, I know sometimes courage is just saying no at the right time. And though life with Thomas might have seemed safe and comfortable, my freedom and self-respect are worth more than anything Id gain by submitting to someone who doesnt value me as a person.
