My Fiancé Told Me to Stay In the Kitchen and Cook Dinner to Avoid Embarrassing Him in Front of His Colleagues
When I first met Derek, I thought he was the one. He was charming, ambitious, and seemed to value our relationship. We moved in together after a year of dating, and soon after, he proposed. I thought we had a strong partnership—until one evening when everything changed.
It all started when Derek invited several of his colleagues over for dinner. I was excited; it was a chance to meet the people he worked with and show them a bit of the life we’d built together. I spent the entire day preparing the meal—appetizers, a beautifully roasted chicken, a decadent dessert. I wanted to make a great impression, not just on his colleagues but also on Derek.
When they arrived, everything seemed fine at first. Derek introduced me to everyone, and we all sat down at the dining table. The conversation flowed easily, and I thought we were having a lovely evening. But as the night wore on, I started to notice Derek acting a little different. He was being unusually quiet and, at times, seemed to be fidgeting nervously.
That’s when he pulled me aside, away from the group, and said something that left me speechless.
“I need you to stay in the kitchen and cook,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my colleagues.”
I was stunned. It didn’t make sense. We were having a perfectly normal dinner, and I thought I was doing everything right. But Derek went on to explain that his colleagues were all very high-profile professionals, and he didn’t want them to think that his fiancée wasn’t “submissive” enough or didn’t know her place. He insisted that it would look bad if I wasn’t in the kitchen, serving and maintaining the home.
At that moment, my stomach dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was not the man I had fallen in love with. He was telling me that my value in this setting was reduced to how well I cooked and served dinner, rather than as an equal partner in the evening.
I tried to argue, telling him that I was part of the conversation, that I was enjoying spending time with the guests, and that I didn’t think it was fair for me to be relegated to the kitchen just to uphold some outdated expectation. But Derek was insistent. “Just do this for me,” he said. “Please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”
I was heartbroken. Not just by what he asked me to do, but by how he dismissed my feelings. His colleagues were starting to notice the tension, and I could feel their eyes on me. So, reluctantly, I walked to the kitchen, feeling humiliated and small. I spent the rest of the night preparing and serving food, while Derek continued to socialize, apparently unconcerned with what had just transpired.
By the end of the evening, I was exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally. I didn’t know what to make of this new side of Derek. It made me question our relationship and whether I could continue being with someone who thought so little of me.
That night, after his colleagues left, I sat down with Derek. I told him how deeply hurt I was by his words and actions, and that I couldn’t continue in a relationship where I was expected to put aside my own value and identity to please others.
To my surprise, Derek didn’t apologize immediately. Instead, he defended his actions, claiming he was only trying to “fit in” and that I should understand. That was when I realized that what we had wasn’t the healthy partnership I had imagined.
It took time for me to come to terms with the reality of the situation, but eventually, I knew what I had to do. I ended the relationship. I couldn’t stay with someone who didn’t respect me as an equal.
Looking back, it wasn’t just about the dinner. It was about how Derek viewed me and how little regard he had for my independence and self-worth. I deserve a relationship where I’m not confined to any expectations, but rather celebrated for who I am.
