A Few Days After Our Wedding, My New Husband Dumbfounded Me With, ‘We’ll Be Giving Your Salary to My Mom. She’ll Teach You How to Spend It Properly!’
Sandra believed that learning to share space would be the most challenging aspect of married life. She was mistaken. Her husband, Matt, revealed the shocking news that her paycheck was going to his mother a week after their wedding. Startled, Sandra had a brilliant scheme up her sleeve and refused to be the slacker they had anticipated.
You would think that bickering over who takes out the garbage or even how to load the dishwasher would be the worst thing that could happen during your first week of marriage. It wasn’t even close for me, though.
Allow me to transport you back to last week, a few days after my “dream wedding” to Matt, when he delivered a bombshell that completely upended my world.
Prior to getting married, Matt and I had been dating for three years. He was trustworthy, witty, and someone I had total faith in. I work as a graphic designer, and I’ve always managed my finances and saved for my objectives on my own.
Matt seemed to appreciate that about me. He expressed his admiration for my drive.
Imagine my surprise, therefore, when Matt casually mentioned, “Oh, by the way, we need to talk about our finances,” as we were lounging on the couch watching a repeat a few days into our marriage.
I turned the TV to mute, anticipating a discussion about shared savings accounts or budgeting. “Sure,” I replied. “What’s on your mind?”
He grinned, but it was a tight, nearly practiced smile rather than his typical warm one. “My mother will receive your pay. You’ll learn how to spend it wisely from her.”
I spat, “Like hell I will,” my voice shaking with anger and incredulity. “You can’t be serious.”
Matt shot back, his tone tinged with steel. “My mother has handled every family financial decision for decades,” he said. “Her system is proven.”
I blinked. “Hold on. “What?”
He sat up straighter and answered, “Yeah,” as if he were going to make a presentation. “Mom’s system has been effective for many years. She will split it as follows: 25% will be used for home costs, 25% will be given to the husband for personal use, and 25% will be used for gifts to family and friends.
I thought it was a strange joke and laughed. “All right, nice one. You nearly got me there.
His face remained the same, though. “Sandra, I mean it. My parents handled their money in this manner. Mom is an expert in this area. You’ll see it’s effective.
My stomach turned over. “Are you saying that I should give your mother my entire paycheck so that she can determine how it is spent? And YOU keep half of it for “personal use”?”
“Exactly!”
My chest began to heat up. “This isn’t going to happen, Matt. I’m not sure what sort of person you’re getting married to. I’ve put a lot of effort into becoming independent, and I won’t give it up to let your mother run my life.”
His voice took on a contemptuous edge I had never heard before, and his face tightened. “This is how a’real family’ functions, Sandra. When you married me, you committed to joining this family. ‘A husband’s cheer makes life sweet,’ Mom usually remarks.
Stunned, I gazed at him. I didn’t recognize the man who had just changed into someone else.
I grabbed my jacket and hurried out the door after saying, “I need some air,” so I wouldn’t say something I couldn’t take back.
I tossed and turned in bed all night, mentally reliving the exchange. How could I have overlooked this aspect of Matt? And my mother-in-law, Linda?
In her advise, there was always a hint of superiority: “A wife should focus on supporting her husband,” or “In our family, we’ve always had a clear system that keeps things running smoothly.” She was courteous enough before to the wedding.
I had disregarded the warning signs, attributing them to generational disparities. I now understood that these were more than just harmless eccentricities. I was supposed to follow the rules because they were RULES.
I decided the following morning that Matt and Linda had no concept who they were dealing with if they believed I would mindlessly follow their small plan.
Matt was already drinking coffee and browsing through his phone when I entered the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I said in a lovely, sugary voice.
With suspicion, he raised his head. “Something seems different.”
“Oh,” I began, laughing softly and strategically, “I’ve been considering what you said last night. I went overboard. Maybe we should try your mom’s system since it’s so effective.”
He briefly squinted his eyes before he realized what he was doing. “Really?!” he cried out. “I knew you’d understand eventually.”
“Of course,” I replied, my eyes never meeting the smile. “It’s all about teamwork, right?”
I could see that his mind was racing. He believed it.
Making sure Matt could see the notification on his phone, I transferred my paycheck into our joint account by midday. I even sent Linda a text message: “Hey, Linda! I agree to use your system. Tell me how I can be of assistance.”
”
Within minutes, she replied: “I’m so happy you’re prepared to learn, my love. We’ll still turn you into a decent wife.”
A chilly, calculating smile grew across my face as I gazed at the television. I typed a response that would set the tone for what was to happen while my fingers hovered over the keypad.
“Fine, Linda,” I said in a low voice. “Let’s play games if you want to. The real game has only barely begun.
However, as I began to strategize my next course of action, something felt off. Linda took great satisfaction in being economical and was constantly praising her ideal spending plan. However, she always had something new when I saw her, whether it was the newest kitchen appliance, a luxury pocketbook, or new jewelry.
The figures didn’t add up. How could she afford all these luxuries if she was truly following her guidelines, which were to give Matt 50% of the money, 25% for food, and 25% for gifts?
My curiosity overcame me, and I made the decision to learn more. I looked at Matt’s desk in the study one evening when he was taking a shower. At that moment, I noticed a tiny black notepad protruding from beneath a pile of documents. I recalled one of Linda’s “lessons” on budgeting, when she was writing things down in a similar notebook.
I paused for a second. However, I realized I had every right to know the truth after picturing Linda’s arrogant expression while she lectured me about financial considerations.
My suspicions were validated as I reached for the notepad and opened it. Linda had been meticulously documenting her personal spending, including designer goods, credit card payments, and—most startling of all—money borrowed from family members to compensate for her excessive spending.
Scanning page after page of careless spending made my stomach turn. The so-called “budget expert” turned out to be a phony.
IDEAL. That’s precisely what I needed to get my strategy going.
When I wasn’t spying, I continued to act that way. “Matt, can you believe how lucky we are to have your mom’s guidance?” I would say during dinner. He would smile without realizing the tempest that was building beneath my smile.
I was prepared for my next step at the end of the week.
That Friday night, Linda accompanied Matt home. With a folder in her hand as if she were presenting a quarterly earnings report, she waltzed into our living room.
“Darling,” she continued, smiling condescendingly, “I hope you’re ready for a thorough financial review.”
As though this absurdity made perfect sense, Matt nodded in agreement.
“Sit. Down.” Linda cut in with a tone that would not budge.
She started to rattle off statistics as she opened her folder and described how she had distributed my payment. She gave me a stern look and added, “Of course, 50 percent goes to Matt for his personal use,”
“Because clearly,” I murmured to myself, “I’m just an ATM equipped with legs.”
She went on, “Twenty-five percent goes to…”
“Oh, Linda! I interrupted her and said, “I think we need to address something before we go any further.”
Linda arched her well-groomed eyebrows. “What’s that?”
I took out a folder of my own by reaching under the sofa table. “THIS.”
Matt took it from me and began to turn the pages. He scowled as he looked over the papers, which included screenshots of Linda’s lavish internet purchases, credit card statements, and past-due notices.
“Mom,” he murmured in a trembling, incredulous voice, “what is all this?”
Linda’s expression changed from one of shock to one of intense wrath. Her calmness broke like cheap glass as she shouted, “How DARE you dig into my private affairs?!”
“Oh, I dare,” I uttered patiently. “You want to manage my money. I thought it was only right to examine YOURS more closely.
The ensuing quiet was electric, tense with the possibility of an impending explosion. With shaking hands, Linda leaped off the couch. “You’re trying to turn my son against me!”
“No, Linda,” I firmly asserted, “you did that on your own.”
Matt’s expression was one of bewilderment and shame as he glanced between us. “Mom… how could you…?”
“How dare you interrogate your mother?” Linda’s voice erupted wildly. Considering all that I have done for this family! I’ve given up—”
“Sacrificed?” I broke off, letting out a sour chuckle. “You’ve sacrificed nothing except your son’s ability to think independently.”
Linda’s face twisted in embarrassment and anger. “You believe you are an expert? You have absolutely no knowledge of my family.
“You’re right!” I shot back. “I knew nothing about your family, but now that I understand exactly what I’m dealing with, here’s a little surprise coming your way!”
When Linda received a notification on her phone, her face flushed. I had discreetly transferred my paycheck back out of the joint account and started a new bank account in my own name. Her screen showed a message from the bank.
She began to protest, her voice rising in dread, “You can’t—”
“Oh, but I absolutely can,” I cut in, my tone cool and piercing. “It’s MY money!” My tone was so definitive that there was no room for debate.
After grabbing her folder, Linda hurried out of the flat while cursing to herself and making a loud clicking noise with her heels on the floor.
With his head in his hands, Matt took a seat. “I’m very sorry, Sandra. I had no idea.
I crossed my arms and muttered, “Of course you didn’t,” in a voice full of desperation and despair. “Because you never asked her any questions. But now, Matt, you have a decision to make. Do we have a relationship, or is your mother manipulating this marriage?
He glanced up at me with sadness in his eyes and weakness showing through his normally assured manner. “You’re correct. I’ve been a fool. I’ll make this right. I promise.
I grabbed my coffee and exclaimed, “Good,” in a tone that had no space for debate. “Because I’m not doing your mother’s bidding. Never.”
A week has passed since that confrontation, and things have gotten better. Matt has been making an effort. He’s finally beginning to recognize his mother for who she truly is, and he’s apologized more times than I can count.
On one occasion, he admitted, “I never realized how controlling she’s been my entire life,” with a hint of guilt and fresh insight in his voice.
I’d said, “Better late than never,” and squeezed his hand.
To be honest, I haven’t spoken to Linda since that evening. I like it like that. Her sporadic passive-aggressive texts are promptly removed. No engagement, no drama.
What about my salary? It’s remaining in MY account, which is where it belongs. My rules, my hard-earned money.
Matt has also changed. more focused. More deference. As if he’s now grasping the true meaning of collaboration.
“So,” he said to me yesterday, “Are we okay?”
I gave him my full attention. “We’re working on it.”
What do you think, then? Did they have it coming, or was I being too harsh?
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