When I married Dan, I thought it would be a dream. But that quickly changed when his mother, Karen, gave me a gift after the wedding: a list titled “How to Be a Good Wife for My Son.”
The rules were absurd—wake up at 6 a.m., prepare breakfast exactly how Dan likes, and do all the grocery shopping alone. Dan, shockingly, saw nothing wrong with it.
I played along, but with a twist. I made Dan the plainest breakfast, placed tiny portions on large plates, and reorganized the kitchen to confuse him. I even dressed in an old-fashioned, overly modest outfit when his friends visited.
By the end of the week, Dan had had enough. When Karen came over, still praising her list, Dan finally snapped. He told her that the rules were outdated, that we would live by our own standards, and I wasn’t his servant.
Karen was stunned, but I was relieved. I handed her back the ornate box with a note inside: “Thanks, but no thanks.” We were free from her influence and finally started building our marriage on our own terms.
