My mother is convinced that my girlfriend is only with me because of the apartment.
I share a spacious threeroom flat in the lively heart of Lyon with my mother. The place became ours after my parents divorcemy father left, abandoning everything. At first he kept up a thin line of contact, calling now and then to ask how I was doing, but over the years those calls grew rarer. Nowadays he only appears in cold, mechanical messages sent around the holidays.
My mother, on the other hand, has never managed to rebuild her love life. A few men have crossed her path, yet none have lasted beyond two or three dates. Perhaps she didnt really want anything, or perhaps she simply never found someone who could replace my father.
As for me, relationships have long felt like a minefield. Ive had dates and outings, but nothing serious ever materialised. I never tried to cling to a romance just to avoid being alone. If there wasnt that unique spark, I would have said it plainly. Wasting my timeor someone elsesnever made sense to me.
Then, one day, everything turned upside down in an unexpected whirlwind.
I met the love of my life.
When I first locked eyes with Camille, I immediately knew this was different. From the start, I felt a rare, powerful bond linking us. I was consumed by her, burning with the desire to spend every free second by her side.
Camille had come to Lyon from a tiny Alpine village. She enrolled at university and was fighting to build a new life in the big city. Ambitious, intelligent, gentle, and breathtakingly beautiful, she quickly drew me in. We grew close at a breakneck pace, began dating, and for the first time I tasted a pure, incandescent happiness.
But very quickly, that joy became an open wound for my mother, an unbearable affront.
She rejected my choice violently.
Ive always been honest with my mother. She knows every girl Ive dated; Ive never hidden anything from her. So when I mentioned Camille, I expected a normal reactiona hint of caution perhaps, but also natural curiosity.
Instead, a storm erupted.
She wouldnt even listen. The moment I said Camille was from elsewhere, she cut me off, shouting that the girl was with me only for my status, my comfort, and above all, our apartment.
I was stunned, as if struck by lightning.
Where did such an idea come from? How could she judge so harshly someone she had never seen, never heard, never spoken to?
My mother built an impenetrable wall of hostility around our relationship. She threw tantrums, screamed until her throat ached, broke down in tears, and kept pounding the point that I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. In her view, I was merely a stepping stone for Camillea way to settle in the cityshe would eventually break my heart and discard me like an old rag.
I tried to defend myself, explaining that Camille had never suggested she wanted to live with me. She rents her own place, never asks me for money or help, and is a fully independent woman who relies only on herself.
Yet my mother remained unmoved, as solid as a rock.
The pressure that crushed me
At first I tried to tune out her accusations. I trusted Camille; I knew she wasnt with me for the flat. But when the same allegations are hurled at you day after day, doubt slowly seeps in like a slowacting poison.
I found myself listening to my mothers venomous whispers.
I dissected every gesture Camille made, searching for hidden motives where none existed.
Why was she so attentive? Could it be a trick? Why did she give me gifts? Was she plotting something in the shadows?
I was driven to the edge of madness.
Camille, of course, sensed that something was wrong. She asked if everything was alright, if something bad had happened. I wanted to spill the truth, but shame clenched my throat like an invisible hand.
How could I tell the woman I love that my own mother sees her as a heartless apartment hunter?
Love or family?
The clash with my mother reached an unbearable peak.
She gave me a cold, razorsharp ultimatum: either I break up with Camille, or I give up any chance of a normal relationship with her.
I was lost, teetering on a precipice, my heart in tatters.
On one side stood my motherwho raised me, cared for me, and to whom I felt an overwhelming duty, an impossible debt.
On the otherdidnt I deserve my own happiness? Didnt I have the right to love the person my heart chose in a desperate moment?
My mother refused to hear my pleas. Her certainty was an iron wall, impenetrable.
I realised I had to choose.
But which path?
Im terrified of making the wrong decision. The thought of losing the woman I love more than anything makes me shake, yet Im not ready to cut off my mother.
Is she simply afraid of ending up alone, abandoned in silence? Or does she truly see something that my love blinds me to?
Im torn between duty and passion, ripped apart in a neverending torment, and for now I have no idea how to get out of it.
My Mum is Convinced that My Girlfriend is Only with Me for the Flat
