From my first encounter with Jake’s mother, Linda, I sensed her disapproval. She never stated it directly, but her strained smiles, subtle insults, and persistent need to “fix” everything about me revealed her true feelings.

“She’s just looking out for me,” Jake would explain. “She’ll eventually accept you.”

Let me tell you now: she didn’t.

During a family meal, Linda finally expressed her opinion clearly. She moved closer, her voice artificially sweet, and remarked, “You see, honey, Jake comes from generations of accomplished, polite women. We require someone who can maintain our family’s status.”

I almost spit out my dinner. “Really?” I questioned, lifting my eyebrow. “You believe I don’t qualify?”

Linda took a drink of her wine and gave me the most patronizing grin. “Well, darling, you’re… not typical.”

Not typical. A polite substitute for saying, You’re an outsider.

I could have ignored it. I could have suppressed my dignity and avoided conflict. But what’s enjoyable about that approach?

Instead, I moved closer and returned her smile. “Linda, I actually have a small suggestion for you.”

She looked suspicious. “A suggestion?”

“Yes,” I continued. “If you can discover a woman you prefer for Jake—one who will cherish him as I do, endure his loud snoring, accept his science fiction movie fascination, and still enjoy his corny jokes—I’ll withdraw. No resentment.”

Linda stared blankly. She started to speak, then stopped.

Everyone went quiet. Jake tried to suppress his laughter. His father suddenly found his potatoes extremely fascinating.

Eventually, Linda sighed and whispered, “I guess that’s quite challenging.”

“Indeed,” I replied, maintaining my smile. “Because I adore him. And regardless of your feelings, I’m remaining in his life.”

After that conversation, Linda never again suggested I wasn’t “suitable” for their family. I don’t think she ever completely accepted me, but she certainly understood one fact—I wasn’t leaving.

And truthfully? I considered that sufficient.