My mother is convinced that my girlfriend is only with me for the flat
I share a spacious threeroom apartment in the bustling heart of Lyon with my mother. We moved back in after my parents divorcemy father left and abandoned everything. At first he kept up a façade of contact, calling now and then to ask how I was doing, but as the years passed those calls grew rare. Nowadays he only appears in cold, mechanical messages sent around the holidays.
My mother, on the other hand, has never managed to rebuild a love life. A few men have crossed her path, but none ever passed the two or threedate mark. Perhaps she didnt really want to, or perhaps she simply never met anyone who could fill my fathers place.
As for me, relationships have long felt like a minefield. Ive had dates and outings, but nothing ever turned serious. I never tried to cling to a romance just to avoid being alone. If there wasnt that unique spark, I was honest enough to say so. Wasting my timeor anyone elsesnever made sense to me.
Then, without warning, everything shifted.
I met the love of my life
The moment I locked eyes with Camille, I instantly sensed that this was different. From the first seconds I felt a rare, powerful bond forming between us. I was drawn to her, yearning to spend every free moment at her side.
Camille came to Lyon from a tiny Alpine village. She enrolled at university and fought to build a new life in the big city. She is ambitious, intelligent, gentle, and stunningly beautiful. Our connection accelerated rapidly; we started dating, and for the first time I tasted pure, incandescent happiness.
But very quickly, that happiness became an open wound for my mother, an unbearable affront.
She rejected my choice violently
I have always been honest with my mother. She knows every girl I have dated; I never hide anything from her. So when I mentioned Camille, I expected a modest reactionperhaps a hint of skepticism, but also ordinary curiosity.
Instead, a storm broke out.
She wouldnt even listen. The moment I said Camille was from elsewhere, she cut me off, shouting that the girl was only with me 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 met, never heard speak, and never exchanged a word with?
My mother sealed herself in an unrelenting hostility toward our relationship. She began staging scenes, screaming until her throat gave out, collapsing in tears, pounding the point that I was on the brink of the worst mistake of my life. In her view, I was merely a stepping stone for Camilleto settle in the citywho would eventually break my heart and discard me like an old rag.
I tried to defend myself, to explain that Camille had never hinted she wanted to live with me. She has her own rented place, asks me for no money or assistance. She is independent, accustomed to relying only on herself.
Yet my mother remained immovable, as solid as a rock.
The pressure that crushed me
At first I tried to tune her out. I trusted Camille; I knew she wasnt after the apartment. But when the same accusations are hurled at you day after day, doubt seeps in like a slow poison.
I found myself listening to my mothers venomous whispers.
I dissected every gesture Camille made, hunting for hidden motives where none existed.
Why was she so attentive? Was it a ruse? Why did she bring me gifts? Was she plotting something in the shadows?
I teetered on the edge of madness.
Camille, of course, sensed that something was wrong. She asked if everything was alright, if a disaster had occurred. I wanted to tell her everything, but shame choked me, tightening 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 intolerable peak.
She gave me an icy, razorsharp ultimatum: either break up with Camille, or I could never have a normal relationship with her.
I was lost, standing on a precipice, my heart in tatters.
On one side stood my mother, who raised me, cared for me, and to whom I felt an overwhelming duty, a debt I could not ignore.
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 a steel wall, impenetrable.
I realized I had to choose.
But which path?
A visceral fear of making the wrong decision grips me. I tremble at the thought of losing the woman I love more than anything, yet I am not ready to cut ties with my mother.
What if she is simply terrified of ending up alone, abandoned in silence? Or does she truly see something that my love blinds me to?
I am torn between duty and passion, racked by an endless 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
