My parents made fun of my soon-to-be husband because they believed that his work was the only reason he failed. They were unaware that he was financially secure on his own, and even if they had a change of heart after learning the facts, he never forgot how they had first treated him.
In the home where I grew up, success was expected. High achievers abound in my family: surgeons, dentists, doctors, you name it. When it came to love, I never gave a damn about money or social “status” because I also had a strong job for myself. My family, however, was unable to embrace that perspective. They always pushed me to date men in my line of work because they thought status was more important than anything else. They saw no reason for me to seek beyond that world, since I am a doctor myself.
It has always been, “He’s a cardiologist, Melissa, just give him a chance,” and “He’s from a respected medical family, you’d be a good fit.” Because of them, blind dates became commonplace, and I was disappointed by each one. They frequently paired me with males who shared their conceit and sense of entitlement. They didn’t seem to be interested in getting to know me, just comparing resumes.
I consented to see a surgeon one evening that my mother had been talking about for weeks. Within five minutes of our sitting across from one other at supper, he inquired about my income and whether I intended to pursue more specialization. I attempted to refocus the conversation on interests or hobbies, but he kept returning to the topic of money and professional status. I felt more like I had been questioned than courted by the conclusion of the evening. For me, that date was the last straw. It made it clear to me why I was fed up with my family’s incessant interference. In particular, my mother could be unforgiving.
She was tenacious and convincing, often claiming to know what was best for me. I once finally expressed how I felt during one of our arguments.
Me: “I don’t give a damn if someone is a lawyer or a doctor, Mom. All I want is to be with someone sincere and caring.”
She gave me a look as if I had said something stupid. She believed that love had to be in line with their status. However, I refused to let my destiny be determined by her expectations. The subsequent events felt different as a result. For the first time, the focus was on connection rather than status or familial expectations.
I met my fiancé, Daniel, at that time. He stopped by my house to oversee a roofing crew that my insurance company had hired, and that’s how we first met. Commanding but composed, he arrived in his truck and instructed his guys. I was attracted to him right away. He exuded confidence and groundedness without being ostentatious or conceited. I started to hope he would return after that first day. Yes, he did. He always made it a point to say hello to me when he came by to see how the team was doing.
We had a little talk on the porch for a few minutes while he described what the workers had done. Those brief conversations soon grew longer. He genuinely listened when he inquired about my career and my hobbies outside of it. He instructed his troops and remained one afternoon when the roofing was almost done. For about an hour, we sat on the steps and conversed.
I disclosed aspects of my life that I had never felt comfortable sharing with others, and he told me stories about growing up. There was no checklist to follow, no attempt to impress. I was comfortable with him. I knew I wanted to meet him again by the end of the project. Without hesitation, I gave him my number, and the very next day, he called. After that, we settled into a comfortable routine that included coffee dates, park walks, and evenings spent discussing everything and nothing.
What started off as random encounters quickly developed into something substantial. We got engaged a few months later. It was obvious that this connection was unlike anything I had ever encountered.
He was first evasive about his work. Since my career appeared “better” on paper, I figured he was insecure. However, he opened up as the situation became dire. As it happens, Daniel owns his own construction business, which brings in as much money as my dad makes as a surgeon. In addition, he earns consistent rental income from his several commercial buildings. He earns twice as much as my father combined. I was blown away. Nevertheless, Daniel requested that I keep this to myself. To be honest, the fact that he doesn’t want to show off his accomplishments only increased my admiration for him.
Regretfully, my parents didn’t share my opinion of him. They were against it from the beginning. The rest of the family adopted my dad’s moniker, “tool boy,” whenever they discussed him behind his back. They teased him with patronizing “jokes.”
My mother once gave him a nice look at supper and said:
Mom: “We’re considering hiring a lawn care service. How much do you charge?”
Daniel did not recoil. He simply replied with a kind smile,
Dan: “Oh, I don’t do lawn services, but I can recommend a great company for you.”
I loved him even more because of the cool-headed way he dealt with their incessant jabs. It shattered my heart, though. They continued to disparage him despite the fact that he never felt the need to prove himself.
When we began organizing our wedding, things really got out of hand. My parents attempted to pressure me into signing a prenuptial agreement yesterday. Then my father scoffed:
Dad: “You must safeguard your possessions. In case Tool Boy decides to take a nap.”
That was it. I lost patience.
“Stop calling him that!” I yelled. He built every dime alone and earns more than you two put together. He is more valuable than you would ever realize.
There was silence in the room. My parents gave me a look like I had gone crazy. They were just incredulous. I didn’t stop there, though. Despite my trembling voice, I persisted.
Me: “Are you even able to hear? Ever since you first met him, you have made fun of him. You’ve acted as though he is beneath you and that his work diminishes his manliness. Are you aware of the cruelty of that?”
As the words flowed out, I glanced at them both, feeling my chest rise and fall.
Me: “He’s never treated you disrespectfully. Even when you insulted him directly, he remained gentle, courteous, and tolerant. And I will not tolerate you continuing to make fun of the man I care about.”
Neither of them answered. My father shuffled uneasily in his chair, and my mother lowered her gaze. For the first time, they were devoid of any witty comment or arrogant look. Nothing but quiet.
Then, at last, my mother spoke.
Mom: “How come he didn’t inform us? Why keep it a secret if he’s doing so well?”
I didn’t think twice.
Me: “Why ought he to? How much he makes is none of your concern. He doesn’t need to prove himself to you or anyone else. What you think of him doesn’t determine his value.”
The final and weighty words lingered in the air. My folks were at a loss for words.
I told Daniel what had transpired later. The words continued to flow out of me more quickly than I could control, and I was still furious.
Me: “Treating you that way was not their right. I’ve seen them talk down to you, roll their eyes, and make jokes as though you weren’t worthy of me. Tonight was too much; I was unable to remain silent.
With my hands clenched and my heart pounding, I paced the room while I spoke. Daniel sat across from me, silently observing without making any noise. He gazed at me steadily and calmly, as though he wanted me to express everything.
Me: “Their cruelty is unworthy of you. You have treated them with the utmost respect, and they have responded with insults. Daniel, that sickens me. I couldn’t watch helplessly while they brought you down once more.”
He waited until I sat next to him, exhausted from my own rage and out of breath. It was only then that he answered.
With a sigh, he shook his head and uttered in a low voice:
Daniel: “I requested that you keep it from them. I didn’t have to convince anyone of my worth.”
He was simply… disappointed, not very irate. He did not, however, sulk or shout. He just maintained his composure, which reminded me once more of the reasons I adore him.
My parents’ opinions have totally changed since then. All of a sudden, they show him reverence and respect. They now make it a point to complement him at family get-togethers. My dad, who used to tease him, now inquires in-depth about his building projects as though he has always been interested in the industry. My mother makes remarks such as, “Daniel, it’s amazing how successful you are in such a competitive industry,” and “We’re so impressed by how you’ve built everything yourself.” They give him too much praise whenever they can, laugh too loudly at his lighthearted jokes, and nod enthusiastically when he talks. They are obviously attempting to undo their previous treatment of him, as though the harm could be undone by flattery alone.
Daniel, however, sees right through it and refuses to change with them. He no longer cares for them. courteous but aloof. He is the kind of man who remembers the way he was treated by others who believed he was beneath them. To be honest, I don’t hold him responsible.
