February 15th 2021
The past month has been close to perfect.
When Craig realized we had been together for a year and decided that one day he wanted to put a ring on my finger, things started going back to the way they were before we started having problems. I’ve been trying my best to be more understanding of the stress that he goes through at work, and that he is a very independent person who never wishes to change.
Last night, however, was a disaster. For Valentine’s Day he told me we were going on a double date with his parents.
I didn’t have an issue with that, and even though I didn’t know them well, I was fine with going to dinner with them.
I had to work that day, so he texted me the address of where to meet them.
I should have thought ahead and looked the address up because, like a complete idiot, I arrived in my scrubs from work while everyone else was dressed for the occasion.
The restaurant didn’t have a ‘dress code’ exactly, but it was clear I was seriously underdressed compared to everyone else dining there.
I apologized to him multiple times before we even got into the building, offering to go home and change since he never told me to dress nicely.
His parents were already at our table, and like a switch was flipped, he put his best face forward.
His mother didn’t need to say anything verbally when her face alone judged my attire.
I had tried to apologize to her as well, telling her that I wasn’t told about needing to dress formally because Craig hadn’t said anything to me.
You would have thought I slapped him in front of her with how quickly she jumped to defend him.
Lecturing me on how I needed to start thinking ahead and start presenting myself more respectably if I was ever going to be a part of her family.
I was humiliated. Craig sat there and let her tear into me like I had insulted her dead mother instead of just wearing scrubs from work.
I excused myself; the need to cry was overwhelming, and I didn’t care about leaving a bad impression by walking away from dinner.
Craig followed me out to the parking lot.
At first, I thought he was going to apologize for his mother’s actions, but all he did was demand that I return to dinner because I was making him look bad.
He tried to block the driver's side door of my car. When I tried to grab the handle, my control over my emotions slipping, he grabbed my wrist so tightly it’s still bruised today.
I apologized over and over again, reduced to begging just to be let inside my car so I could go home.
If another couple hadn’t been pulling in to park on the other side of my car, I don’t know what would have happened.
As soon as he dropped my wrist, I yanked the door open, not caring that it hit his arm, and scrambled in, locking it as soon as it was shut.
I didn’t look at him as I drove away. I knew the embarrassment would hit me later, what the scene must have looked like with a crazy girl yelling at her boyfriend for no reason.
I just needed to hide, I needed to not exist and try to forget the whole evening, if my heart would ever stop beating to the pace of a marathon inside my chest. His mother didn't need to say anything verbally when her face alone judged my attire. I had tried to apologize to her as well, telling her that I wasn’t told about needing to dress formally because Craig hadn’t said anything to me.
You would have thought I slapped him in front of her with how quickly she jumped to defend him.
Lecturing me on how I needed to start thinking ahead and start presenting myself more respectably if I was ever going to be a part of her family.
I was humiliated. Craig sat there and let her tear into me like I had insulted her dead mother instead of just wearing scrubs from work.
I excused myself; the need to cry was overwhelming, and I didn’t care about leaving a bad impression by walking away from dinner.
Craig followed me out to the parking lot.
At first, I thought he was going to apologize for his mother’s actions, but all he did was demand that I return to dinner because I was making him look bad.
He tried to block the driver's side door of my car. When I tried to grab the handle, my control over my emotions slipping, he grabbed my wrist so tightly it’s still bruised today.