Growing up, I always knew I had a mom, but it often felt like she wasn’t just my parent—she was my entire world. Even now, at thirty-seven, with a full-time job at a museum, two degrees, my own apartment, a decent bank account, and a deep passion for art history, my mom still checked in with me daily.

She asked the same questions every time, as if she couldn’t believe I was managing life on my own. Every time I saw her name light up on my phone, I’d automatically sit up straighter, as if I were back in school again. She had a say in everything—what time I should go to bed, what clothes I should wear, even what nail polish color I could or couldn’t use. She believed no man would ever be good enough for me, and honestly, I had begun to accept that. Then I met Theo

For the first time in my life, I didn’t tell her about someone right away. I kept him a secret—but only for three days. That night when Theo came over, I felt something different. I had baked a pie using an online recipe instead of one of Mom’s prized ones from her cookbook. It wasn’t perfect—the crust was a bit burnt, the chicken a little dry—but it was mine, and that felt good. A week before, she had told me sternly, “I want to meet him. In person. At my house.

At the table. I have questions.” I tried to push back, telling her, “Mom, let me handle this. I’ll tell you when the time is right.” She surprisingly let it go. I should’ve known better. Theo arrived that night holding tulips, non-alcoholic wine because he knew I’d had a long day, and a cake from my favorite bakery. My heart swelled. We talked and laughed like we’d known each other for years. There was soft music in the background, the flicker of candles, and just as he gently touched my hand and told me he never thought he’d feel love like this again, a loud “ACHOO!” echoed from inside the closet.

Theo froze. “Are we not alone?” he asked. I turned and opened the closet door. There she was—my mom—sitting in the dark with a headlamp on her forehead and a thermos in her hand. “Mom?!” I gasped. “I was just listening, evaluating,” she said. “I didn’t interfere!” Theo, bless him, kept calm. “Good evening,” he said politely. “I’m Theo. Nice to meet you.” And just like that, the interrogation started. Theo gave me a look like, is this real life? I looked back at him, silently confirming, yes, this is my life. Then my mom stood up and said, “Now, a test.” Theo blinked. “A test?” “Wipe the table. No streaks. If you leave one, you’re not good enough for her.” I wanted to crawl under the couch. “Mom, stop!” I begged. But Theo didn’t even flinch. He got up, grabbed a sponge, and wiped the table perfectly. She inspected it like a military drill sergeant, then nodded and handed him a folded piece of paper. His smile faded as he read it. Without saying a word, he handed it to me and walked out. It was titled: “Rules for Dating My Daughter” and included gems like: Have a job. Understand I don’t like you. I am EVERYWHERE. Make her cry, I make you cry. Be home 30 minutes early. SHE is my princess, not your conquest. I don’t mind going to jail. Three days passed. No calls. No texts. Finally, I sent a message: “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” He saw it—but didn’t respond. Then one day, a knock at the door. I opened it to see Theo holding flowers. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve planned a date… for you and your mom.” First, we went to his lecture on love in literature. Mom and I sat in the back, watching him speak. “If he’s trying to win me over with Shakespeare, he’s failing,” she whispered. I stayed quiet. I knew he wasn’t done. Next was a boat ride on a calm lake with a plaid blanket, fresh strawberries, and her favorite tea—he remembered. She barely smiled, but I saw her start to soften. Finally, we went to his home. It smelled like citrus and cedar and felt warm and cozy. As the sun set and Theo grilled steaks, my mom leaned back and sighed. Then she nudged me and whispered, “You know… he’s not so bad, honey.” Moments later, Theo returned with dinner, got down on one knee, and asked, “Will you marry me?” My mom leaned in and said, “Sweetheart… I’d have said yes already.” Through tears, I laughed and said, “Yes. Of course—yes!”