Move Over Mom: Living With His Parents
No one wants to share their boyfriend with another woman, and that can only be more true when the other woman is Mommy Dearest. It’s one thing to bitch when she’s calling YOUR cell phone to see how her son with a cold is holding up since an hour ago (true story), but what do you do when she’s not calling your cell phone… but calling your name from down the stairs?
My boyfriend and I met at college and graduated together a month ago. He has been fortunate enough to be gainfully employed for the last two weeks, and I’m still on the search myself (wink wink employers – I’m a writer) for something in New York City. And while I’m waiting for everything to magically fall into place with a job and a move to the city where Alicia Keys says there’s nothing I can’t do, there’s a lot I can’t do while I’m crashing at my BF’s parent’s house… in lovely New Jersey, seeing as how the homeless haven’t been welcome in NYC for quite some time.
Now don’t get me wrong, his parents are extremely generous, kind, loving people who treat me as one of their own, which, let’s be honest, would make me my boyfriend’s sister. If that’s not weird enough, he’s an only child. Just imagine the attachment when a stay-at-home mom has her only child back in the house after a four-year hiatus. It’s borderline Oedipus-creepy.
From my perspective, it’s a mood-kill to say the least. Coming from our own apartment and having lived together for a couple years, it’s not easy having to share our relationship with his parents all of a sudden. And while the temporarily living situation does have its bonuses (they buy us food and have a dishwasher!) I can’t get over that when my boyfriend walks in the door from a long day of work, it’s a race to see who gets out the first “Hi honey!”
Then there’s the 12 hours a day that he’s gone between work and his commute, and his dad’s off at work too, leaving just the ladies at home. I can’t just hide out upstairs in his room all day, so me and momma chat, and what more do we have in common besides that special man in our lives? And when did the discussions about our future suddenly involve his entire family? Where he’s going to work, when we’re going to move out, or, as his mom likes to believe, “if” we’re going to move.
For me, it’s one thing to have dinner with your boyfriend’s parents once in a while and dress up all nice and be on your best behavior to make that good impression, but when you live with them, there’s no time for that. They see me when I wake up (it isn’t pretty), they hear us bicker, and I’m awfully paranoid that they can hear the bed banging against the wall that goes straight to their room downstairs. And lets just say that the old race car posters and childhood toys aren’t exactly a turn-on.
I’m so grateful that they’ve opened their arms and their home to me, and I love them like they were my own parents, but I don’t know how much more I can take of having my skin crawl from morning ‘til insecure bed-banging night.
Have you ever lived with a boyfriend’s parents? What kind of toll did it take on your relationship? Give me some advice on how to deal!