My boyfriend’s mother insisted on calling me by his ex’s name long after they’d broken up, and it irked me so much, but I didn’t say anything until a family celebration gave me the perfect opportunity to address the issue. Let me tell you this: what I did might have ended my relationship.
Hi all! My name is Leylah, and I and Todd, my boyfriend, have been together for five lovely years. He’s honestly a good guy, and we’ve had a pretty decent relationship since he broke up with his high school sweetheart.
Now, Todd and Emma had been together since childhood, and she was so close to him that she was regarded as part of his family. When they broke up two years before Todd and I hooked up, he wasn’t the only person who struggled with it.
His mother, Tammy, built a strong bond with Laura and even regarded her as a daughter. I think she thought they’d be together forever and was even hoping they’d get married and start a family.
So, at first, Todd’s mother called me by his ex’s name once in a while but mostly used my correct name. I kind of brushed it off for a while because I didn’t want to make a big deal about it and wanted to fit in and be liked.
I also understood how Tammy felt and wanted to give her time to grieve for the relationship she’d wished for her son.
I believed it was a habit she’d outgrow as time went by.
However, years into our relationship, she then started calling me Laura, Todd’s ex’s name, instead of Leylah, all the time. On numerous occasions, Todd called her out for using the wrong name with me and corrected her, but she just wouldn’t stop.
Weeks before Tammy’s 60th birthday, she gathered the whole family and asked everyone to bring some food to her birthday party. Todd and I were also invited to this gathering, which included his two sisters and his brother-in-law (BIL).
At one point, I was in the kitchen with Tammy, her daughters, and the BIL when one of the siblings mentioned my cooking. “Todd says you make mean meals and desserts, according to my husband here?” the oldest sister mentioned.
Blushing, I replied jokingly, “I do dabble here and there, and I think Todd just speaks highly about my kitchen prowess because he’s biased.” Once she heard this, Tammy quickly turned to me and loudly said:
“Why don’t we let Laura make the birthday cake this year?”
Todd’s sisters giggled at the mention of their brother’s ex’s name being used to address me but tried to hide their glee. I feigned excitement, pretending not to notice the slight, and said, “That’s a great idea!” but I planned to teach her a lesson instead and didn’t bother telling my boyfriend about what happened.
As the birthday celebration progressed, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation for the dessert finale. Everyone’s excitement was palpable, a collective craving for sweetness after the savory feast. The moment the subject of the birthday cake arose, I seized my opportunity.
So, on her birthday, there was yelling and crying because when I was questioned about making the dessert, I exclaimed with exaggerated surprise, “Ah, the birthday cake!” Pretending to be confused, I added:
“I was so looking forward to tasting Laura’s famous baking. Wasn’t she bringing the cake?”
Confusion swirled around the room like a sudden storm. My boyfriend’s mother, her face a mask of disbelief, sputtered, “What do you mean, Laura? You were supposed to make the cake, Leylah!”
My boyfriend, caught in the crossfire of emotions, managed a hesitant chuckle, “Mom, I think there’s been a bit of a mix-up. Maybe Laura got stuck in traffic?”
His attempt to diffuse the tension only stoked the flames higher.
Todd’s younger sister, ever the peacemaker, tried to salvage the situation. “Well, maybe we can all just enjoy some ice cream from the freezer? There’s always a solution, right?”
But Tammy wasn’t having any of it. Her voice rose, a mixture of frustration and disbelief, “This is unbelievable! A birthday without a cake is like a summer without sun! Leylah, how could you?”
I stood my ground, my voice calm yet firm. “I was under the impression that ‘Laura’ was in charge of the cake. After all, that’s who you’ve been excited to see today, isn’t it?”
The room fell into a stunned silence, the tension thick enough to slice.
After more yelling and some people crying, Todd and I then got kicked out! As we were making our way out, ushered by Tammy, my boyfriend’s uncle, who’d been quietly observing the drama unfold, let out a hearty laugh that broke the ice, saying:
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to call this the birthday that Laura forgot! Let’s not let a cake—or the lack thereof—ruin a perfectly good party.”
The laughter that followed was reluctant at first, but soon the absurdity of the situation took over, and the room filled with a lighter, more jovial atmosphere. Todd’s mother, while still visibly upset, managed a small smile, perhaps finally seeing the humor in the situation—or at least recognizing the futility of holding onto anger.
Todd is so angry with me that he hasn’t talked to me since! I think I might have gone too far, and our relationship might be over. The drive home with him was filled with contemplation and quiet as we individually played back the evening’s unexpected turn of events.
“You certainly made this a birthday to remember,” was one of the very last things my boyfriend said to me as he drove us home.
Reflecting on the incident, it was clear that while my actions might have stirred the pot, I still don’t think I did anything wrong! What do you, dear reader, think? How would you have handled such disrespect from the family of the man you love?
