Matt and I had been dating for two years, but there was one constant challenge: his mother, Diane. She was the picture of elegance, masking her subtle jabs with a charming smile. I always tried to stay polite, hoping time would smooth things over.

On Matt’s birthday, we joined his family at a cozy Italian restaurant. Diane had placed her purse on the seat beside him, and when I sat down, she leaned over with a smirk and said, “Scooch, sweetie,” before sliding in next to him. The table laughed, including Matt, but I felt humiliated and left before dessert.

Later, both Matt and Diane told me I was being “too sensitive.” So the next weekend, I invited the family to my place, saying I wanted to apologize. When they arrived, I’d set up a big table for everyone — and a small one in the corner just for Matt and his mom, decorated with their photo and a sign reading, “MOM AND HER TREASURE SEATS ONLY.”

Diane laughed, but Matt didn’t. That night, he broke up with me by text, calling me petty. I replied, “I can take a joke — I dated you this long.” Then I poured myself a glass of wine and enjoyed a quiet table all to myself.