Why Won’t You Open the Door? – I Don’t Want To! And I Won’t. Guests Should Warn Before Visiting, and Stop Raiding the Fridge, Cabinets, and Wardrobes. – What Do You Mean You Won’t? She’s My Mother! She Came to See Me! – Well, Then You Greet Her! But Not in My House.

“Why wont you open the door?”

“I dont want to! And I wont. Guests should give notice before visiting, and they definitely shouldnt rummage through drawers, fridges, and wardrobes.”

“What do you mean, you wont? Thats my mother! She came to see *me*!”

“Well, then *you* go greet her! But not in *my* house.”

“Victoria got on so much better with my mum, you know.”

“Honestly, if I started listing all the ways my ex was better than you, wed both end up embarrassed.”

“Though Im not so sure about myself,” interrupted Natalie nervously, wiping down the kitchen counter. “If you and Victoria were so perfect together, why did you break up?”

Victor turned away, offended, and glared out the window.

“You already know the story…”

“I do. So spare me the tales of your precious *Vicky*,” Natalie snapped. “Or Ill be your next ex.”

She was genuinely ready to take drastic measures.

Shed met Victor almost a year ago at a mutual friends gathering. She even knew Victorianot well, but enough. Victoria had brought Victor along that night, then vanished from their lives completely a few months later.

One evening, after a few too many drinks, Victor confessed hed caught Victoria cheating. Hed even shed a tear.

At the time, Natalie found it endearinga man unafraid to show his feelings, who valued love. Something inside her *clicked*, making her want to comfort him.

Later, she realised that “something” was probably maternal instinct, not romantic interest. But it was enough to start a relationship between them.

At first, everything was lovely. Hed pick her up from work, drive her home, send sweet messages, and check if she was dressed warmly. Natalie felt cared for.

Her first warning came when Victoria messaged her out of the blue.

*”Hey. Heard youre seeing Victor. Not my business, but be careful with him. He and his mum are a package deal.”*

Natalie noted the warning but brushed it off. Love could overcome worse obstacles. Just because things went badly with one woman didnt mean they would with her.

*”Thanks for the heads-up, but well figure it out,”* she replied, not wanting to engage further.

Victor, meanwhile, didnt extend the same courtesy toward *her* comfort.

When his mother, Margaret, first dropped by unannounced, Natalie stayed calm. Maybe they just didnt realise how intrusive it was. Margaret probably just worried about her son and wanted to see who he was living with.

She sent Victor to greet his mother, hastily dressed, tied her hair into a messy ponytail, and stumbled outstill half-asleepto meet her potential mother-in-law.

Margaret was already inspecting the drawers in the living room.

“Ah, everythings a mess,” she said with a condescending smile. “No wonder socks go missing. Natalie, after breakfast, Ill teach you how to fold clothes properlyno wrinkles, no lost items.”

No *hello*. Just criticism. Natalie was stunned. A stranger casually rifling through her underwear in her own home felt beyond rude.

But snapping back at the start of a relationship seemed wrong, so she bit her tongue.

“Oh, sweetheart, those under-eye bags!” Margaret continued sympathetically. “You need cucumber masks. Or betterget your kidneys checked. My friend Margaret had the same issue…”

Natalie smiled and nodded, pretending interest in the ailments of strangers while dreaming of crawling back into bed. It was *8 a.m.* on a Sunday. Shed stayed up late deliberately, planning to sleep in.

No such luck.

Margarets visit dragged on until evening. Natalie endured a flood of criticism and “helpful” tips on flower care, scrubbing bathtubs, and polishing cutleryeven got some hands-on practice. She felt drained, like a squeezed lemon.

And Victor? Not once did he step in or hint that they wanted privacy.

“Your mums always this *enthusiastic*?” Natalie asked carefully that night.

She wasnt against close family ties, but some boundaries wouldve been nice.

“Yeah. Why? She just wants to bond,” Victor shrugged. “Vicky and I used to live with herlively household. Now shes lonely.”

“Please tell me were not moving in with her.”

“Youve got a problem with my mum?” Victor tensed. “Vicky got on perfectly with her.”

Natalie stayed silent. Victoria was eight years youngera people-pleaser. Of *course* shed played the perfect daughter-in-law. Probably memorised Margarets friends names and diagnoses, ironed sheets to perfection, baked pies to her exact recipes.

Natalie hadnt signed up for that. Life had taught her: the fewer outsiders meddling in a relationship, the better. But Victor disagreed.

“My mums sociable. Gets on with anyone.”

*”Not everyone wants her to,”* Natalie almost said but held back.

It got worse.

Margaret returned the next morning*early*and inspected the fridge.

“Chicken eggs? I only ever cooked quail eggs for Victorbetter for men,” she declared. “And these shelves grimy. Youre eating off them, Natalie!”

*”I dont lick the shelves,”* Natalie thought.

“Ill clean them later,” she said. “We were hoping to relax today. Its the weekend.”

Victor, of course, was still asleep.

“Nonsense! Weekends are for cleaning and cooking,” Margaret said firmly. “Fetch the sponge. Next weekend, Ill teach you Victors favourite meat pie. Youll *love* it!”

Natalie froze, arms crossed. Running errands on someone elses orders? *Again?*

“Margaret, maybe take my number? So you can call before visiting. I might have plans next weekend.”

“Call? I cant visit my own son now?” Margarets face twisted in offense.

“You can. But your son lives with someone now. Mutual respect would be nice.”

“Vicky never minded.”

“Well, *my* exs mother didnt barge in at dawn. She brought cherry pies. Delicious. Want the recipe?”

Margarets expression darkened. Wrinkles deepened. Fury flickered in her eyes.

“Think carefully, dear. In our family, the nightingale doesnt out-sing the lark.”

She left soon after, but the bitterness lingered. Victor wouldnt listen. Margaret treated their home as her own. And the ghost of Victoria haunted every argument.

“Vickys stuffed cabbage was better. Her mum taught her,” Victor would muse over dinner.

“Maybe *she* should teach you, then.”

Natalie suspected Margaret would turn Victor against her, but she refused to discuss it. She just wanted the topic gone.

A peaceful month passedno visits. Then it started again.

Another early-morning ring. This time, Natalie refused to answer.

Harsh? Maybe. But was it *polite* to ignore her hints and barge in uninvited?

Five minutes later, a groggy Victor appeared.

“Why wont you open the door?”

“I dont want to! Guests should call firstand *not* snoop through my things.”

“Shes my *mother*!”

“Then *you* greet her. Not in *my* house.”

The argument that followed probably reached the neighbours. Victor accused her of rejecting his motherand by extension, him. Margaret shouted demands through the door, called repeatedly.

Finally, Natalie laid down an ultimatum.

“Enough! Either you explain what *guest* means and send her home, or were done.”

Victor chose the latter.

Natalie wasnt heartbroken. They hadnt even married. Maybe it was for the best. A man glued to his exs memory *and* his overbearing mother? No thanks.

Months later, unexpected news reached her: Victor had a new girlfriend. A mutual friend shared the details.

“She moved in with him *and* Margaret but already wants out. Asked to meet you.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, according to Margaret, youre *perfect*gorgeous, strong-willed, a great cook.”

“*Margaret* said that? About *me*?”

“Well, she only likes the ones whove escaped Victor.”

From then on, Natalie listened more carefully to gossipnot blindly, but not dismissively either.

And she grew *very* wary of men who couldnt stop comparing her to their exesor whose mothers came as part of the deal.

With those “mamas boys,” a happy ending was unlikely. Some boundaries were healthy.

Dont you agree?