My husband threatened divorce if I ignored my MIL’s demands while he was away. When I refused…
The Mama’s Boy and the Marital Reality
My name is Grace; I am 32 years old and have been married for just over a year. After college, I diligently climbed the ranks at a prominent company.
Approaching 32 without a romantic partner, pressured by my parents to settle down, I reluctantly joined a dating agency. That’s where I met Edward, a softspoken man a few years younger than me who worked at a mixed firm.
We connected over several dates, and he was nothing but respectful and understanding during our courtship, which made me think he was the one. When he proposed, I was overjoyed, thinking we’d spend our lives together.
When I joyfully accepted Edward’s proposal, we became officially engaged. Visiting my parents, they impressed upon us that marriage is a lifelong commitment.
“Grace, always be there for Edward,” they advised, and I agreed while Edward listened attentively. Our next stop was at Edward’s parents’ house.
His father Arthur welcomed me with open arms, saying, “I’ve heard so much about you from my boy; it’s great to finally meet you.” His mother Michelle, however, was more reserved.
With a scrutinizing look, she asked, “Edward, is this the one?” To which Edward confidently replied, “Yep, Mommy, I want to marry her.”
I was slightly taken aback by his use of “Mommy,” as well as by Michelle’s forthrightness. Arthur quickly intervened: “Enough, Michelle.”
He apologized for her bluntness and reassured me, “We’re very happy about your marriage.” “But just so you know, Edward has had it pretty easy here; he might be a bit of a challenge.”
I responded with assurance, “I adore Edward’s gentle side, and I know we support each other.” Arthur then turned to Edward, urging him, “Starting a family is a big deal, son; step up and keep her happy.”
Edward, looking earnest, nodded in agreement. Our meeting concluded, and not long after, Edward and I celebrated our union with a low-key wedding.
To our delight, my parents gifted us a condo where we embarked on our marital journey. However, our marriage revealed challenges I hadn’t anticipated.
It soon became evident that Edward was not accustomed to household responsibilities. Ever since we exchanged vows, my husband, a classic mama’s boy, hadn’t contributed to household chores.
One morning, while I was already busy with laundry and preparing breakfast, Edward’s alarm rang at 8, but he continued to sleep soundly. No matter how much I tried to wake him, he wouldn’t stir.
Finally, after pulling off his covers and giving him a shake, he slowly opened his eyes. He groggily opened his eyes: “Wao, it’s 8:10 already; why didn’t you wake me up?” he complained.
I reminded him, “I did try, and your alarm was blaring too.” “Now, please eat your breakfast.”
As he rubbed his eyes and shuffled to the dining table, he immediately started complaining about the eggs. “Hey Grace, this egg is too runny.”
“I can’t eat this unless it’s well done; make it over,” he demanded. Caught while hanging laundry, I tried to hold back my irritation and snapped, “Then don’t eat it.”
“Why would you say that? And this coffee, it’s scorching hot.” “Mommy always got the eggs and coffee just right.”
“All right, all right,” I sighed, quickly redoing the eggs and letting the coffee cool. He ate hurriedly but left his plate on the table, rushing towards the restroom.
“Wait up, you know you should clean up after yourself.” “Gee, I’m short on time,” he called back, dismissing his responsibility, even though his breakfast delay was his fault.
Annoyed, I paused my makeup routine to clean up the dishes. While picking out my outfit, he called out again, “Grace, over here, help with my tie.”
There he stood, tie hanging limply around his neck, looking utterly helpless. “Seriously, you can’t even tie your tie; what did you do before we got married?”
“Mommy always did it,” he replied sheepishly. With a deep exhale, I knotted his tie, and somehow we both managed to leave the house.
This had become our routine. He never helped with any housework, and it felt like I was juggling everything and babysitting him too.
Every time an issue arose, it was always “Mommy did it this way,” or “with Mommy it went like that,” always referencing his mother Michelle. This routine dragged on for a year.
As the pressures mounted, thoughts of divorce began to creep into my mind. My father’s insistence that marriage is forever echoed in my mind, tempering my frustrations.
