“My Son is Whipped: His Girlfriend Runs Their Household, and I Can’t Even Speak Up”

The day my son, Michael, announced his engagement to Jessica, I was taken aback. I had only known her for about two weeks, and from the very beginning, something about her didn’t sit right with me. Her flashy makeup, revealing dress, and obviously enhanced lips all suggested she wasn’t the type to enjoy hard work. But Michael seemed smitten, and I wanted to support him.

I met Jessica’s parents for the first time at the courthouse where they were getting their marriage license. My husband and I had just moved to the city a few months prior, hoping to be closer to Michael and start a new chapter in our lives. Little did I know, this new chapter would be filled with regret and sadness.

From the moment they moved in together, it was clear who wore the pants in their relationship. Jessica had a way of making Michael do everything she wanted. She would snap her fingers, and he would jump to fulfill her every whim. It was painful to watch my son become a shadow of his former self.

Jessica didn’t work; she spent her days shopping and lounging around the house. Michael, on the other hand, worked long hours to support their lifestyle. He would come home exhausted, only to be met with a list of chores and demands from Jessica. She treated him more like a servant than a partner.

I tried to talk to Michael about it, but he would always brush me off, saying he was happy and that Jessica just had high standards. But I could see the toll it was taking on him. He was losing weight, his eyes were always tired, and he seemed to have lost his spark.

One day, I decided to confront Jessica directly. I went over to their apartment while Michael was at work. Jessica answered the door in her usual glamorous attire, looking annoyed that I had shown up unannounced.

“Jessica, we need to talk,” I said firmly.

She rolled her eyes but let me in. We sat down in the living room, and I took a deep breath.

“I’ve noticed how you treat Michael,” I began. “He’s working himself to the bone to support you, and you don’t seem to appreciate it.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Michael does what he needs to do,” she said coldly. “And I do what I need to do.”

“But you don’t do anything!” I exclaimed. “You don’t work, you don’t help around the house. You just take advantage of him.”

Jessica stood up abruptly. “This conversation is over,” she said. “You have no right to come into my home and judge me.”

I left their apartment feeling defeated. I had hoped that confronting Jessica would make her see reason, but it only seemed to make things worse.

As time went on, Michael became more and more isolated from us. He stopped coming over for family dinners, stopped calling as often. It was as if Jessica had completely taken over his life.

One evening, my husband and I were watching TV when we got a call from Michael. He sounded distraught.

“Mom, Dad, I need your help,” he said, his voice trembling.

We rushed over to their apartment to find Michael sitting on the couch, his face buried in his hands. Jessica was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting down next to him.

“Jessica left me,” he said, his voice breaking. “She said she found someone else who could give her what she wanted.”

My heart broke for my son. He had given everything to Jessica, only to be discarded when she found someone better.

In the weeks that followed, Michael moved back in with us. He was a shell of the person he used to be, but slowly, he began to rebuild his life. He found a new job, started going out with friends again.

But the experience had left its mark on him. He was more guarded, less trusting. And as much as I wanted to help him heal, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had failed him as a mother.

I had raised him to be kind and generous, but in doing so, I had also made him vulnerable to people like Jessica. And now, all I could do was hope that he would find someone who truly appreciated him for who he was.