Who brings their parents to a first date? My boyfriend from a dating app did. But what really got me was the list of OUTRAGEOUS DEMANDS his parents brought with them. I knew I’d have to outwit them… but on my own terms.
When I virtually met Jacob on a dating site several months ago, we hit it off instantly. The connection felt real — the kind that makes your heart skip a beat when you see a new message notification. I grew to think that he was “the one,” but then when we actually met… well, let’s just say reality has a way of shattering our perfectly crafted illusions.
A woman holding a phone | Source: Unsplash
Three months of late-night texts and hour-long video calls had built up to this moment. Jacob wasn’t just another match; he was different.
While most guys led with cheesy pickup lines or bland “hey” messages, he had caught my attention with a detailed comment about my profile photo taken at Comic-Con.
“Is that a handmade Scarlet Witch costume?” he’d written. “The detail work is incredible!”
From there, our conversations flowed naturally. He listened, really listened, when I talked about my work as a graphic designer and my dreams of starting my own studio.
A woman using a computer | Source: Midjourney
He shared my love for true crime podcasts and could quote every episode of my favorite shows by heart. When I mentioned my sister’s battle with depression, he opened up about his own experiences with anxiety.
“I feel like I can tell you anything,” he’d said during one of our video calls, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ve never connected with someone like this before.”
“Me neither,” I’d admitted, feeling my cheeks flush. “Sometimes I worry this is too good to be true.”
He’d laughed then, running a hand through his dark hair. “I can’t wait to finally meet you in person. Friday at Coffee Beanz? 7 p.m.?”
A man using a laptop | Source: Pexels
“It’s a date! Finally!” I’d chirped, unable to contain my excitement.
“See you on Friday!” He said as I hung up, blushing.
I spent the entire week planning my outfit, finally settling on a gorgeous dress that my best friend Sarah insisted brought out my eyes.
“He won’t know what hit him,” she’d said, helping me style my hair.
Friday evening found me standing outside Coffee Beanz, smoothing down my dress for the hundredth time. Through the window, I could see couples enjoying their meals, soft candlelight flickering across their faces.
People in a cafe | Source: Unsplash
My hands were shaking slightly as I pushed open the heavy wooden door, the warm aroma of garlic and fresh bread enveloping me. My eyes nervously darted around in search of Jacob.
“Lia! Over here!”
I turned toward Jacob’s familiar voice, my practiced smile freezing on my face. There he sat, but not ALONE.
An older couple sat beside him, their faces beaming with smiles. My heart, which had been filled with excitement all day, sank to my stomach.
“Hey… um, hi, what’s going on?” I managed, my brain struggling to process the scene before me.
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
Jacob stood up, his bright smile unchanged as if this was completely normal. “Lia, I’m so excited to finally meet you! These are my parents, Linda and Patrick!”
Linda, a petite woman with perfectly coiffed gray hair and gold earrings that probably cost more than my monthly rent, gave me a practiced smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Patrick, sporting a dress shirt that seemed a size too small for his frame, barely looked up from his menu.
“Sit down, girl,” Linda patted the chair next to her, not next to Jacob. “While we wait for our appetizers, I have a few questions for you.”
An older lady smiling | Source: Midjourney
I sank into the chair, still trying to make sense of this ambush. The waiter appeared with water glasses, and I found myself wishing it was something stronger.
That’s when Linda pulled out a crisp sheet of paper from her designer handbag.
“Now then,” she cleared her throat, clicking her gold-plated pen. “I’ve prepared a brief questionnaire to help us get to know you better. I want you to fill it out.”
Sheets of paper on a table | Source: Pexels
My eyes scanned the paper she placed before me, each question worse than the last:
1. What is your current annual income and five-year career projection?
2. Please list any medical conditions, including a family history of genetic disorders.
3. How many romantic partners have you had, and what were the reasons for those relationships ending?
4. Do you own or lease your vehicle? What is your credit score?
5. Are you willing to sign a prenuptial agreement?
6. Do you plan to work after having children? If so, who will provide childcare?
7. What is your stance on living with in-laws?
8. Are you willing to host special occasions like Thanksgiving & Christmas every year without expecting a penny from your partner?
A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
The questions went on and on like a never-ending train carriage. My water glass stopped halfway to my mouth. “I’m sorry, but is this for real?”
“Of course it is, dear,” Linda replied, her tone suggesting I was being deliberately difficult. “Our family has certain standards to maintain. We need to ensure any potential partners for our Jacob are… suitable.”
My eyes darted to Jacob, waiting for him to jump in, to say this was all a joke. But he just sat there, examining his napkin as if it held the secrets of the universe.
A man sitting casually | Source: Midjourney
Something snapped inside me. Three months of building this connection, sharing hopes and fears, only to be treated like a job applicant? No. This called for a different approach.
“Would you excuse me for just a moment?” I smiled sweetly. “Ladies’ room.”
Instead of heading to the restroom, I ducked into the convenience store next door. Five minutes later, I returned with my own notebook and pen.
“Before I answer your questions,” I said, sitting down with renewed confidence, “I have a few of my own.”
A woman holding a piece of paper | Source: Pexels
Linda’s perfectly plucked eyebrows shot up in surprise as I placed the paper with my questions on the table. She picked it up and began reading loudly, her face speaking volumes of her anger.
“Question one: At what point did you realize your son wasn’t capable of choosing his own partner?”
Patricks’s face reddened. Jacob finally looked up from his napkin.
“Question two: How many women have actually completed your interrogation process? Or do most run screaming before the credit check?”
“This is completely inappropriate!” Linda’s voice pitched higher as she continued to read.
A furious older woman with a man | Source: Midjourney
“Question three: Do you also inspect their teeth like show horses, or is that saved for the second date?”
“Question four: When Jacob moves out of your basement, will you be requiring his future wife to submit weekly progress reports?”
“Question five: Have you considered therapy for your control issues, or is that too personal a question?”
“That’s enough!” Jacob slammed his hand on the table, making the silverware jump. “You have no right to disrespect my family like this!”
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Oh, but they have every right to treat me like I’m applying for a position at the FBI?”
“My parents are just looking out for me,” he protested, his voice weak. “They want what’s best— “
“No, Jacob. What’s best for you would be growing a backbone and living your own life.”
Linda and Patrick were already gathering their things, faces flushed with indignation. Linda’s hands shook as she stuffed her questionnaire back into her bag.
“We’re leaving,” she announced. “Jacob, come on. She’s not the one for you.”
“Wait!” I called out, loud enough for nearby tables to turn. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Side shot of a woman | Source: Midjourney
They paused. “WHAT??”
“Waiter, these people are trying to leave without paying their bill!” I announced loudly, waving to the waiter. “Guess running out on checks is another proud family tradition!”
The restaurant had gone quiet. Linda’s hands shook as she pulled out her credit card, practically throwing it at the waiter. I stood up, smoothing my dress once again.
“Well, this has been entertaining. I’ll cover my water.” I placed a five-dollar bill on the table and turned to Jacob.
“Good luck finding someone who meets your family’s rigorous standards. Although, you might want to try job recruitment sites instead of dating apps. I hear they provide detailed background checks and references.”
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
As I walked out into the cool evening air, my phone buzzed with a message from Jacob, “You didn’t have to be so cruel. My parents were just looking out for me.”
I typed back, “Just looking out for myself, mama’s boy. Goodbye!”
Later that night, Sarah called to hear about the date. After I finished telling her everything, she was quiet for a moment.
“You know what?” she finally said. “I bet Linda has a spreadsheet ranking all of Jacob’s potential wives.”
We both burst out laughing, and I felt the last of my disappointment melt away. Dodged a bullet? Absolutely. And I’ve never been so grateful for a red flag wrapped in a questionnaire.
A woman walking away | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I Decided to Teach My Stepson a Lesson When I Got Tired of Him Littering Everywhere
A couple of weeks ago, I finally moved in with my husband, which was supposed to be the beginning of a wonderful chapter in our lives. I had no idea that my husband’s 15-year-old son from a previous marriage, named Dave, would prove to be a difficult obstacle to overcome. Though I knew there would be some period of adaptation, I did not expect such an attitude towards my efforts to make the house our cozy place in the form of piles of garbage that Dave, as if on purpose, left scattered throughout the house.
At first, I thought it was a temporary situation, perhaps a teenager’s version of chaos. But days turned into weeks, and the mess only seemed to grow. Empty chip bags, crumpled papers, and discarded clothes adorned every corner of our once-pristine home. It was as if a tornado of teenage negligence had swept through, leaving behind a debris field that would shock even a loving mother.
My comments and requests for cleanliness had no effect on him at all. It was like talking to a wall. I wanted to stop this and somehow decided to act outside the box.
One day, when Dave left for school, I came up with a plan. I was going to defeat this trash invasion, which required a strategy that went beyond mere words. Wandering around the house, armed with trash bags and determination, I picked up every piece of clutter that had settled into our home. I was on a mission to teach Dave a lesson in responsibility.
His room, the center of chaos, was my first target. When I walked in, I was greeted by clothes strewn across the floor, a maze of crumpled papers, and a collection of half-empty soda cans. Without pleasure, but with a feeling of determination, I began to put all the items that were scattered in garbage bags. Papers, cans, his clothes, everything was packed into the bags together. In the end, the room gradually turned from a disaster zone into something resembling order. I packed all the scattered clothes with other trash in a bags.
A similar fate befell the living room, kitchen, and even the bathroom. It was a time-consuming task, but I was sure that if words could not reach him, perhaps these bags would show him how much of a mess he left behind.
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