The Engagement Test
When my boyfriend Eric dropped to one knee in front of me, my heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness. I thought I was saying yes to spending forever with the man I loved.
But I had no idea that getting engaged would mean facing a crazy family tradition that would make me question everything about love and what it really means to be accepted.
My name is Sarah, I’m 30 years old, and Eric is 32. We had been dating for three amazing years. What made our relationship so special was how easy and natural everything felt between us.
We would spend hours laughing at the same silly reality TV shows, going to movies together, and having romantic picnics on Sunday evenings. We even had matching coffee mugs that said “Boss” and “Also Boss” – it was our little inside joke about how we were equal partners in everything.
So when Eric proposed a few months ago at the cozy cabin we rented every fall, with the first snow of winter falling softly around us, I didn’t even let him finish his question before I screamed “YES!” I was so excited I nearly knocked him over with my hug.
But what I didn’t know – what I couldn’t have possibly imagined – was that our engagement would come with some absolutely insane conditions. These weren’t just any conditions either. They were specific, old-fashioned, and completely humiliating. And it all started on what should have been one of the happiest nights of my life.
Eric’s family was coming over to our apartment for a small celebration dinner last weekend. His parents, his three brothers, and their wives were all going to be there.
I felt a little nervous because my family lives in a different country and couldn’t afford to fly over until the actual wedding. That meant I was completely on my own with Eric’s family, and I really wanted to make a good impression.
I was determined to make everything absolutely perfect. I took two whole days off work and spent every minute preparing. I cooked elaborate dishes, deep cleaned our apartment until it sparkled, and planned every single detail down to the smallest thing.
I even designed and printed special menus that said “Eric & Sarah, Engaged! April 27” in beautiful cursive writing, and I laminated them in plastic sleeves to make them look fancy.
I knew Eric’s family was traditional and old-fashioned in their ways, but I wanted to show them that I could meet them halfway. I desperately wanted to be accepted, especially since I was the first “outsider” to join their very tight-knit family in years.
When Eric offered to help me prepare, I even refused because I wanted to prove I could handle everything myself.
As the family members started arriving at our apartment, I kept glancing nervously at Eric. He gave me reassuring smiles and even winked at me once when I nervously adjusted my hair for the hundredth time.
The night started out absolutely wonderful! Everyone was smiling, raising their glasses in toasts, and they seemed to genuinely love all the food I had prepared.
They complimented my perfectly roasted chicken, laughed at the funny stories I told, and I even caught Eric’s sister-in-law Holly giving me an approving nod when I poured wine with a steady, confident hand.
At one point during dinner, I felt Eric squeeze my hand under the table, and for a magical moment, I thought to myself, “This is it – I’m finally going to be part of this family!”
However, there was one person who seemed different from everyone else. Eric’s mom, Martha, appeared tense and uncomfortable the whole evening. I should have paid more attention to that warning sign, because right after we finished dessert, she suddenly stood up from her chair!
She picked up her butter knife and clinked it against her wine glass, smiling as everyone turned to look at her. Then she cleared her throat dramatically, raised her wine glass high in the air, and announced, “I will allow you to marry my son only if you pass the family wife test.”
At first, I burst out laughing because I thought she was making a joke. But when I looked around the table, no one else was laughing. The room fell into an uncomfortable, heavy silence, and Martha looked completely serious. The other wives at the table had blank, expressionless faces as they nodded along, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
The only sound in the room was the quiet hum of our dishwasher starting its cycle in the kitchen.
I looked desperately at Eric, hoping he would say something, anything, to break the tension. But he didn’t speak up. He just looked… like he was waiting for something.
“What test?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light and forcing a smile onto my face.
That’s when my future mother-in-law reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She smoothed it out on the table with great care, like it was some kind of sacred, ancient scroll.
“It’s a tradition in our family,” she said with obvious pride in her voice. “Every woman marrying into our family has to prove she’s a capable homemaker. It’s how we know she’s ready for the responsibility of being a wife.”
I stared at her with my mouth hanging open, not sure if I was hearing her correctly. This had to be some kind of joke.
Then she started reading the list out loud in a formal voice:
“Number one: Cooking a three-course meal from scratch, with no recipe books allowed.
Number two: Deep-cleaning an entire house, including scrubbing baseboards and cleaning blinds.
Number three: Ironing shirts and folding laundry to our exact standards.
Number four: Setting the table the correct way, with full place settings and proper etiquette.
Number five: Hosting a formal tea party for the family matriarchs, which includes me.”
She paused for dramatic effect, then added with a sweet smile, “And you have to do it all with a smile on your face!”
I blinked several times, trying to process what I was hearing. Surely this couldn’t be real.
“You’re serious about this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Martha handed me the handwritten list, and I could see it was written in careful, old-fashioned handwriting. “It’s just a fun tradition that has been passed down from my grandmother,” she explained. “The other wives all did it, and I just want to see if you’re good enough to join our special club.”
I looked around the table desperately, hoping someone would start laughing and tell me this was all a prank. But no one was laughing. Everyone was completely serious.
The three other women at the table gave me solemn, judging looks as if they were judges on a reality show. Holly even said in a matter-of-fact voice, “We all did it. It’s just part of being in this family.”
I turned back to Martha, trying my best to stay calm and polite. “I’m sorry, but I don’t cook or clean for entertainment,” I said clearly. “I work 50 hours a week and contribute equally in my relationship. I’m not auditioning for some 1950s sitcom.”
Eric gave me a casual shrug, like this was no big deal. “They don’t mean anything bad by it, my love,” he said softly.
“It’s just a tradition,” Martha repeated sweetly. “We’re just trying to see if you’re truly prepared for the responsibilities of being a wife.”
Then, before I could even react further, my so-called fiancé stood up and reached into his pocket. “Babe, just do it,” he said. “It will mean a lot to them. And it’s not like they’ll say no if you mess up a little.” Then he handed me what they called their traditional “dust cloth” – an old, worn rag that looked like it had been used for decades.
That was it! That was the exact moment I realized I wasn’t just marrying Eric – I was marrying an entire family stuck in the past, and my future husband didn’t have the backbone to stand up to them!
I stood up from my chair, smoothed out my dress, and said in a clear, strong voice, “Thank you all for coming tonight. Dinner is over.”
Martha looked absolutely horrified, like I had just slapped her. One of Eric’s brothers let out a nervous chuckle, though it sounded more like a cough. His father just kept eating his dessert, completely unfazed by the drama!
Eric followed me into the kitchen, his voice low and angry. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.
“I’m ending this ridiculous audition,” I snapped back.
“You’re making a scene, babe! It’s just how they show love!” he whispered urgently. “It’s their way of welcoming you!”
“Well, it’s not my way,” I said firmly. “And I don’t want that kind of love where I have to earn respect through a list of household chores. I’m not here to pass some scavenger hunt of cleaning tasks to prove I’m worthy of a man who should already know my value.”
When Eric saw that I wasn’t going to change my mind, he sighed heavily and went back to make excuses for me to his family. Eventually, they all left, and I could hear their shocked whispers as they walked out the door.
That night, I slept in our guest room with the door locked, refusing to talk to Eric even though he begged and pleaded outside the door for hours. The next morning, I packed a suitcase and left to stay with my best friend Monica across town. I needed space to think clearly and some peace and quiet.
I ignored all of Eric’s text messages. His last one said, “I just wanted us to all get along. That’s all I ever wanted.” I couldn’t even bring myself to reply. Not yet.
Then, two days later, Martha called me directly on my phone.
“Can we talk?” she asked. “Woman to woman.”
I almost hung up immediately, but curiosity got the better of me.
“I think things got out of hand the other night,” she said. “The test was just meant to be a symbol of your commitment to the family. You’re not the first woman to feel upset about it. I just needed to know how serious you are about Eric.”
“You really want to know how serious I am?” I asked. “Then let me tell you something. If you wanted to test me, you should have tried treating me with basic respect and human dignity. Not with a dust cloth and a checklist like I’m applying for a maid position.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said, sounding genuinely surprised. “It’s just that every wife in this family goes through it. It’s our tradition.”
“Well,” I said, my voice firm and clear, “traditions either evolve and grow, or they die out completely.”
She didn’t call me again after that conversation.
Meanwhile, Eric kept sending me apology after apology through text messages and voicemails.
But that wasn’t the point. The point was, he didn’t do anything when it actually mattered. He didn’t stand up for me when I was surrounded by his family and being judged. He let me sit there and be evaluated like I was applying for a job in their family, not marrying someone I loved with all my heart.
Monica poured me a glass of wine one evening and said, “You know, you could always talk to him again. See if he actually means all these apologies.”
“I know,” I said, staring into my wine glass. “But love isn’t about passing someone’s test or proving your worth. It’s about being seen and accepted for who you are. And I don’t think they will ever really see the real me.”
The hardest part was that I still loved Eric deeply. That made everything so much more painful. He wasn’t a bad person, just a man who was raised in a system he was too afraid to question or challenge. And that made me wonder what else he would stay silent about in our future together. What other times would he fail to stand up for me?
Our wedding is still on pause. I haven’t made a final decision about what to do. But I know one thing for certain now – I will never marry into a family where I have to scrub floors and pass household tests to be taken seriously as a person. If Eric truly wants to be with me, then he will need to break this cycle and stand up to his family, for good.
And if he can’t do that?
Then I will walk away from him, clean floors and all.
Unfortunately, Sarah isn’t the only woman who has had shocking family traditions thrown at her by her fiancé’s family. Another woman named Hannah had her fiancé keep a disturbing family tradition secret from her until their actual wedding day. When Hannah stepped into the church and saw what was waiting for her, she turned around and left immediately.
