Looking back on exes can be like looking back on dodged bullets, least of all because your ex's family lived on a different planet, and your only thought around them was “I need to leave.” Thankfully, these people did.
Names have been changed to protect lives.
My ex-girlfriend’s dad was a real asshole, but my ex lauded him. He once arrived at an afterparty she had organised and told us stories about going to Thailand to sleep with hookers, and cumming on his friend’s bed while his friend was out. I couldn't sleep after that.
My shit of an ex and I were at a party, and I was smoking a tailor cigarette. By accident the wind blew the smoke into his face, and he spat on me and slapped me. The next day I told his mum, and she said: “Well, you disappointed him.”
My ex-boyfriend’s family was Brazilian. If I had a story, the dad or sister would always have a tale that was better, but their punchline was always in Portugese so I was never part of the joke.
My ex-boyfriend was breastfed until he was four, and his mum used to play with the dog’s red rocket. Needless to say the relationship didn’t work out.
My ex-boyfriend’s highly religious mum believed in no sex before marriage, then walked in on us fucking one day. I think she did it deliberately to confirm her suspicions. She teared up while looking at us FOR AN ENTIRE MINUTE before she closed the door again.
My ex’s family never cooked a single meal in the house. I’d be invited over for dinner but then I’d be given money to drive and pick up pizza, Fasta Pasta, or Hungry Jacks for everyone. There were four kids and not everyone wanted the same thing so I’d honestly be gone for hours.
I dated a girl in high school whose sister never tried new foods. It drove me insane. I think she sees a therapist now though.
His mother would always ask me if I played netball. I didn’t and she knew that, but it was like the truth was impenetrable through her inflexible blonde bob.
I’m Eurasian, and one of my ex’s families was racist as fuck: it’d always be shit about how Asians can’t drive or how they’re inferior. I’d call them out and be like, “Hey, that’s not OK,” and get a comment back like, “I don’t mean you, I mean the other orientals.”
His family loved to get involved. So involved they began interfering in the tiniest of our quarrels, and called to tell me not to fight with him.
I hated that I was never fully sure if my ex's boyfriends parents were his parents or his grandparents. Whenever I came over his dad would be sitting in front of the TV wearing a khaki bucket hat and aviator glasses, and you had to yell at him to have a conversation. He never remembered who I was.
Her mum’s food was always praised, but on two separate occasions I found a bandaid and a beetle in meals she'd cooked.
My ex-boyfriend’s mum hung a big portrait of Jesus Christ in my living room. I took it down. She put it back up. She said I wasn’t allowed to touch it again.