“It’ll only be for a couple of nights, and if she’s awful to you, we’ll leave right away. “Please, Evie,” John said, interrupting my thoughts. She refused to let go of it until John came to her, at which point she clung onto him like a limpet while he tried to escort her back to her seat. After the best man made his speech, Gwen ran onto the stage and sobbed into the mic for five solid minutes. The event that finally made me demand that we go low-contact occurred during our wedding reception. She made countless passive-aggressive comments about my appearance, stole my belongings, and peppered John with questions about who he loved more. Since then, she’d made it painfully clear that not only would I never be good enough for her precious son, but that she also planned on being the only woman who mattered in his life. “It’s nice to meet you, Evelyn.” Yeah right. “Oh,” she’d said, before pasting a huge fake smile on her face. But the first time I met Gwen, six months into dating John, she’d physically recoiled from me as if I was a venomous snake. I had a great track record with most parents of my significant others they liked that I was easygoing, soft-spoken, and polite. Saying that we “didn’t get along” was putting it mildly. Hell, I would’ve preferred staying in a cardboard box. And it makes the most financial sense.” That was true the contractors had discovered multiple errant pipes and major wood rot, and they needed to shut off our water for at least a week while redoing the piping.Įven so, I still would’ve preferred staying in a roach-infested motel to staying with Gwen. “I know you two don’t get along," he continued, "but she’s changed.
It all began when John suggested staying at Gwen’s place until the contractors had finished renovating our house. I imagine the blood fountaining into the air, and best of all, the look of terror in her bulging eyes as they glaze over.īut I’m getting ahead of myself. Better yet, if I’d pinned her to the ground and slit her throat open from ear to ear. More importantly, no one who once loved me recognizes me anymore.Įvery night before I go to sleep, I fantasize about what would have happened if I’d simply told her to go fuck herself instead of welcoming her into my life. Because of what she did to me, I struggle with short-term memory loss, blurriness in my vision, and constant pain in my left arm. I know that nearly everyone has some kind of a horror story about their mother-in-law, but I can confidently say that meeting Gwen Myrick was the worst thing that has ever happened to me and that will ever happen to me. I mean, at this stage, what was even the point? It wasn’t like things were going to change.
I sobbed, not knowing how to bring the subject up again. “What’s wrong, Katie?” he asked, pulling me into a hug. My boyfriend noticed this year, when he discovered me crying in the bathroom. However, I am becoming increasingly tense and irritable in the days leading up to my birthday. Four years is no small feat, after all, and what’s a single day in the grand scheme of things? I mean, it’s not like I expect him to buy me expensive perfumes or a car, but a cake or a bar of chocolate would be nice. “Aww, I’m sorry, pumpkin, aren’t I enough?”Īnd that pretty much sums it up. I thought that maybe he’d forgotten, but I couldn’t understand how, considering I kept reminding him about it throughout the month. I must have been particularly shocked when he didn’t get me anything during our first year together, so I asked him about it. I already know that for my next birthday, and the birthday after that, my boyfriend will pat me on the back, wish me a good day at work, and go back to watching TV. I mean, I do feel disappointed, of course, but I’ve grown used to it. I mean, is it really that important for an otherwise healthy relationship? My friends have asked me why I’m still with him, and the truth is, I feel like breaking up over a gift, or lack thereof, would be a rather petty thing to do. Not for my birthday, not for Christmas, and not even for our anniversary. Well, nothing! I have never received a gift from my boyfriend. So, what does he get me then, you might ask. Twice! Yet, despite my best efforts, he never caught on. Last year, for example, I kept showing him pictures of a particular necklace, and even sent him an email link. We’ve been together for four years now, and each time my birthday rolls around, I have to spend copious amounts of time hinting at items I would like to have. Gifts have never been my boyfriend’s strong suit.