Are you a submissive man?! the motherinlaw gasped when she saw her son handling breakfast on his own.
What on earth is this, a man in the kitchen?! she exclaimed, horrified to discover that her son was actually preparing the morning meal himself.
Valentine Lefèvre had finally come to see us after eight years. Since my wedding to her son Théo, she had never set foot in our home. Living in a tiny village near Bordeaux, she rarely traveled to the cityher age, health, and farm duties kept her grounded. This time, however, she insisted: I want to see how you live. After all, you have a family, a mortgaged flat I need to make sure everything is alright.
In truth, I was relieved. All those years, there had been no visits, no calls, no updates. I hoped we could finally break the ice. We welcomed her properly: a ready bedroom, homemade dishes, a soft bathrobe, and comfy slippers. Théo and I did our best. Between work and household chores it wasnt easy, but she deserved our attention.
The first days passed peacefully, without incident. Then Saturday morning arrived. I allowed myself to sleep in, exhausted from a week of hard work. Théo, ever thoughtful, rose early. He liked to surprise us with little gestures, and that day he decided to cook a special breakfast for his mother and for me.
Halfasleep, I heard the kitchen soundsthe sizzle of the pan, the coffee machine humming, the scent of buttered toast. I smiled, feeling lighthearted. My man, my considerate Théo. The calm, however, was shortlived. Valentine stepped into the kitchen, and her voice cut through the door:
What are you doing, my son? Behind the stove? Wearing an apron?!
Mom, I was just making breakfast. You must be tired from the journey. Camille is still asleeplet her rest. Besides, you know I enjoy cooking
Take that thing off immediately! A man in the kitchenwhat a disgrace! Thats not what I raised you to be! Your father never washed a single dish in his life, and now youre making omelettes like a servant! And Camillewhy is she still in bed? Thats her place! Youre completely under her thumb, its pathetic!
I stayed under the covers, fists clenched, torn between laughter and the urge to intervene. Her words repulsed me. I felt ashamed for Théo, pained for myself, and terrified that this visit would leave irreversible scars on our relationship.
I finally got up as she began to gasp with outrage. Théo still held his spatula, the omelette calmly browning over the flame. Valentine trembled with anger, muttering about decadence, irresponsibility, and a man should be a man.
I quickly brewed a soothing herbal teawithout it, we might have suffered a heart attack on the spot. I sat beside her, took her hand, and tried to explain calmly:
In our home things work differently. Were partners. I cook, I clean, I work. Théo helps too. He cooks because he likes it, because he cares for us. Is that really such a problem?
She didnt listen. Her face was set, her eyes full of judgment. She said nothing, but her expression spoke: Youve turned my son into a weakling. When she left a few days later without even hugging us, I realised she would never accept our way of life.
Later, Théo confessed that she had called his father to complain: Our boy has become his wifes slave, the poor thing cant even sleepup at dawn standing over pots. I thought how sad it is to raise a man to believe caring for others is a weakness, that love is a shame.
Im not angry, just sorrowfulfor her, who spent a life viewing the kitchen as a prison; for him, who had to fight for the right to be a good husband; and for me, because I had hoped we could become close.
One thing I now know for certain: my man is not weak. He is someone who loves. If that bothers anyone thats their problem.
Are You a Submissive Man?!” — The Mother-in-Law’s Shock as She Sees Her Son Making Breakfast for Himself
