Six Months Into the Relationship, My Live-In Girlfriend Was Already Demanding €1,000 for Her Daughter’s Wedding — Here’s How I Responded
I never thought that at fifty I would find myself in a situation where I had to explain to a grown woman that other people’s weddings were not my responsibility. But life has a way of throwing strange tests at you.
Irina and I met last spring. She was forty-five, divorced for more than ten years, and living with her student daughter. She worked as an accountant at a small company. She carried herself well—neat, well-groomed, and clearly took care of herself. Honestly, I liked her right away, both in appearance and in conversation. I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight, but it was that mature kind of sympathy, when two people realize that life feels easier and calmer together than alone.
By that time, I had been a “free man” for almost seven years. My ex-wife and I had separated peacefully. My son was grown, living on his own, and I had not paid child support for a long time. I lived alone, worked, and had a stable income. I was not struggling, but I also could not promise anyone mountains of gold.
Things moved quickly with Irina. Dates, walks, trips out of town. After three months, she suggested:
“Listen, why don’t we try living together? You’re lonely on your own, and so am I. Besides, sharing expenses would be easier.”
I agreed. It seemed logical. I had a two-room apartment, with one empty room kept for my s
on in case he visited. But he rarely came, so I had no problem inviting Irina to move in with me.
At first, everything was good. She was tidy, practical, and cooked wonderfully. I even started getting used to having a woman’s touch in the home. You come back from work in the evening, and there is dinner on the stove, order, warmth, comfort. After a long bachelor period, it felt pleasant.
But after six months, we had a conversation that, to put it mildly, stunned me.
We were sitting in the kitchen one evening, discussing plans for the summer, when Irina suddenly said:
“You know, Lena—my daughter—is getting married in August. They’ve decided to register the marriage and have a modest banquet for forty people. The groom’s parents are contributing. I thought it would be right if you and I gave the young couple a good gift. You know, so we don’t lose face. Let’s put at least €1,000 each in the envelope.”
I choked on my tea.
“Wait. What do you mean, ‘you and I’? She is your daughter, your family. Of course I respect her, but you and I have only been together for six months.”
“So what?” Irina shrugged. “We live together. To Lena, you’re like a stepfather, even if only formally. It’s normal practice to support young people when they’re starting out.”
I fell silent. I needed a moment to process it.
€1,000 was not a small amount for me. Yes, I earned decently, but I had a country house on a mortgage, car expenses, and I was helping my son, who had recently decided to start his own business. On top of that, I was saving money for renovations in my apartment. And now I was being asked to hand over a serious sum simply because I had been dating a woman for half a year whose adult daughter had decided to get married.
“Ira, let’s be honest,” I said. “I respect your daughter, but I’m not obligated to give gifts like that. I barely even know her. We’ve seen each other a couple of times. You understand yourself that €1,000 is serious money…”
Six Months Together, and My Live-In Girlfriend Was Already Demanding €1,000 for Her Daughter’s Wedding — Here’s How I Answered
I never thought that at fifty I would find myself in a situation where I had to explain to a grown woman that other people’s weddings were not my responsibility. But life has a way of throwing strange tests at you.
Irina and I met last spring. She was 45, divorced for more than ten years, and lived with her student daughter. She worked as an accountant at a small company. She carried herself well—well-groomed, took care of herself. Honestly, I liked her right away. Both physically and in the way she communicated. I would not say it was love at first sight, but it was that mature kind of attraction, when two people realize life feels calmer and easier together than alone.
By that time, I had been a “free man” for almost seven years. My ex-wife and I separated civilly. My son is grown, lives separately, and I have not paid child support for a long time. I live alone, work, and have a stable income. I am not poor, but I cannot promise anyone mountains of gold either.
Things moved quickly with Irina. Dates, walks, trips out of town. After three months, she suggested:
“Listen, why don’t we try living together? You’re lonely on your own, and so am I. Besides, splitting expenses is easier.”
I agreed. It seemed logical. I had a two-room apartment, with one empty room kept for my son in case he visited. But he rarely came, so I had no problem inviting Irina to move in with me.
At first, everything was good. She was tidy, domestic, and cooked deliciously. I even began getting used to having a woman’s touch in the home. You come back from work in the evening, and dinner is on the stove, everything is clean and cozy. After a long bachelor period, it felt pleasant.
But after six months, a conversation happened that, to put it mildly, stunned me.
We were sitting in the kitchen one evening, discussing summer plans. Suddenly Irina said:
“You know, Lena has her wedding in August. They decided to register the marriage and have a modest banquet for forty people. The groom’s parents are contributing. I thought it would be right if you and I gave the young couple a good gift. You know, so we don’t embarrass ourselves. Let’s put at least €1,000 each in an envelope.”
I choked on my tea.
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘you and I’? She is your daughter, your family. Of course I respect her, but we’ve only been together for six months.”
“So what?” Irina shrugged. “We live together. To Lena, you’re like a stepfather, even if only formally. It’s normal practice to support young people as they start out.”
I fell silent. I needed to process that.
€1,000 is not a small amount for me. Yes, I earn decently, but I have a country house mortgage, car expenses, and I help my son, who recently decided to start his own business. On top of that, I am saving for renovations in my apartment. And now I was being asked to hand over a serious sum simply because I had been dating a woman for six months whose adult daughter had decided to get married.
“Ira, let’s be honest,” I said. “I respect your daughter, but I am not obligated to give such gifts. I barely even know her. We’ve seen each other a couple of times. You understand that €1,000 is serious money.”
She grimaced.
“There, I knew it. Men these days are so greedy. In the past, people used to help each other. A family is built on support. But with you, it’s all money, money…”
I felt irritation boiling inside me.
“Wait. Yes, we live together. I pay the utilities, buy groceries, and sometimes take you to restaurants. But helping someone else’s child start married life? Sorry, that is too much. I have enough responsibilities of my own.”
That evening, we went to separate rooms. The mood was ruined.
The next day, Irina was cold and barely spoke to me. Then the accusations began. Apparently, I “didn’t see a future,” “wasn’t ready to invest in the relationship,” and “didn’t know how to be generous.”
And I started thinking: where is all this even going?
We had been together for six months. We spent time well together, but this was not even a family in the full sense yet. I had not proposed. I had never said I was going to be a “father” to her daughter. Her daughter already had one. And suddenly I was expected to step into her life as a full-fledged relative.
I talked to my son. He just smirked.
“Dad, are you serious? You’ve known this woman for six months, and she already wants you to put a thousand euros into someone else’s wedding? That’s a signal. Today it’s a wedding, tomorrow it’ll be an apartment for a grandchild. Think about whether you really need this.”
And he was right. If such expectations were being placed on me from the very beginning, what would come next?
After that conversation, I tried to explain myself to Irina again.
“Ira, I am ready to help with everyday matters and support you, but I am not ready to sponsor your adult daughter. I am not her father.”
She looked at me coldly and said:
“That means we have different views on life. I thought we were a family, but you… you are just a roommate.”
A week later, she packed her things and went back to her own place.
You know, I was not even that upset. Yes, it hurt that good relations ended in such a banal way, but deep down I felt relief. Because when a woman puts material demands above everything else in the first six months, it is not about love. It is about benefit.
Now I am more cautious about living together. Dating and spending time together is one thing; sharing everyday life—and especially finances—is another.
I realized that before letting someone into your home, you need to observe them for longer.
And I became convinced of one more thing: people can get married as many times as they want, but every parent should earn money for their own children’s wedding themselves. Shifting that responsibility onto a new partner is wrong and unfair.
Do you agree?