Tyler proposed with greasy takeout and wine on my balcony nothing fancy, just us and laughter. We planned a fun, quirky wedding with cosplay booths and ramen bars perfect for two creatives.
But then I met his mom Patricia, who acted sweet at first, full of compliments and fake charm. After dinner, she pulled him aside and just like that, he told me I wasn’t “future material.” He said I liked “cartoons” too much and didn’t bring enough to the table.
Turns out, Patricia wanted him to marry someone richer and he actually listened. I held back tears, smiled, and suggested a final “farewell dinner” at my place for closure. He agreed, thinking I was heartbroken he had no idea what was coming.
Dinner was soft jazz, wine, and pasta he got comfortable, thinking he still held power. Then I gave him a velvet box with a tattoo voucher “a gift to remember me by.” He was touched, flattered, and booked it with my artist friend Devon the next day. Devon inked him with bold black letters: “Property of Patricia Mama’s Boy For Life.”
He was furious when he found out, banging on my door, calling me insane. I just smiled and reminded him: “I’m not future material, remember?” Now he’s single, jobless, and still trying to laser off the remains of my masterpiece. As for me? I’m dating Devon now and Patricia was right: I wasn’t built for that future.
