I’m 27, and my dating history is a graveyard of “almosts.”
Nothing dramatic. Just short connections, polite endings, and the quiet feeling that I was always trying harder than the other person.
So when I met her, it felt different.
We matched on a dating app.
The conversation flowed.
We laughed easily.
No awkward silences. No games.
After a few great dates, I asked her to be my girlfriend.
She said yes.
Then she smiled and said,
“I think it’s time you meet my family.”
I took that as a good sign.
She mentioned—more than once—that it would really impress them if I paid for dinner. I didn’t overthink it. I assumed parents. Maybe a sibling. A slightly awkward but normal meal.
Paying for dinner felt reasonable.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my stomach dropped.
Her entire extended family was already there.
A long table.
Cousins.
An aunt.
An uncle.
People I’d never seen before, all turning to look at me like I was late to my own interview.
No one greeted me.
No handshakes.
No questions.
I stood there smiling, feeling less like a guest and more like… a sponsor.
Once we sat down, things got worse.
They didn’t browse the menu.
They attacked it.
Premium steaks.
Seafood platters.
Extra sides.
Bottles instead of glasses.
I tried catching my girlfriend’s eye.
A subtle shake of my head.
A silent please stop this.
She didn’t even look at me.
By the time dessert menus came out, my chest felt tight.
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