When Eric proposed, I thought I was saying “yes” to love — not to a bizarre, outdated family tradition that would leave me questioning my worth, my values, and even my future.
I’m 30, and Eric and I have been together for three wonderful years. We clicked instantly — from our shared love of reality TV to our Sunday picnic dates and our matching “Boss & Also Boss” coffee mugs. When he proposed at our favorite cabin in the fall, I said yes before he even finished the question.
But I had no idea that our engagement would come with conditions .
One weekend, Eric’s entire family came over for an engagement dinner — his parents, his three brothers, and their wives. My own family lives overseas and couldn’t make it, so I was flying solo. Determined to make a good impression, I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, cooked a full meal, and even made custom menus for the evening.
Everything was going well — the food was praised, the conversation flowed, and even his sister-in-law gave me a nod of approval. But then, after dessert, Eric’s mom, Martha, stood up and clinked her glass.
What came next was completely surreal.
“I’ll allow you to marry my son,” she said, “only if you pass the family wife test.”
At first, I laughed — thinking it was a joke. But no one else did. The room fell silent. The other women at the table nodded like this was normal. I looked at Eric, hoping for some kind of explanation or support. He just looked… expectant.
Martha pulled out a folded piece of paper and read off a list of absurd expectations:
- Cook a three-course meal without a recipe
- Deep-clean the house, including baseboards and blinds
- Iron and fold laundry to their standards
- Set the table “correctly”
- Host a formal tea for the family matriarchs
- And do it all… with a smile
She called it a “fun tradition” passed down from her grandmother. The other wives had done it. Now, it was my turn.
I was stunned.
“I work 50 hours a week and contribute equally in this relationship,” I told her. “I’m not auditioning for a role in your 1950s fantasy.”
Eric tried to downplay it. “It’s just a tradition. Just do it for them.”
That was the moment I realized I wasn’t marrying just Eric — I was marrying a family stuck in the past, and my future husband had no spine to stand up for me.
I ended dinner, excused myself, and went to bed in the guest room. The next morning, I packed a bag and left — staying with my best friend Monica.
Eric texted, apologized, begged. Martha even called me days later, trying to soften the blow.
“It’s just tradition,” she said. “I wanted to know how serious you are about Eric.”
I told her seriously, “If you wanted to test me, you should have tried treating me with respect.”
In the end, I realized something important: love isn’t about proving your worth through chores and checklists. It’s about being seen, valued, and respected.
Eric didn’t stand up for me when it mattered most. And if he couldn’t challenge his family’s outdated expectations, what else would he stay silent about in the future?
The wedding is on hold. I haven’t made a final decision yet. But one thing is certain — I won’t marry into a family that sees me as something to be tested, not loved.