Free You're Not Pretty Enough by Jennifer Tress

Cleveland’s most fancy restaurant—the Top of the Town—and I said yes. After
     college I moved back to Newbury to live with my mom, plan the wedding, and find a job. Leo owned a small condo and was planning on selling it to help fund the purchase of our new home. We set up appointments to look at houses for sale,
     and when we went to viewings, Leo’s parents were always in tow. My mother-in-law, Sophia, was a 110-pound spitfire. She and her husband, Luca, had emigrated separately to the US from Italy when they were both around sixteen, and there was no way they were going to let their firstborn,
     American-influenced boy make such a large decision on his own.
    After a couple of appointments, I pulled Leo aside. “Do your parents need to come with us to every open house?”
    “Well, they know a lot about this stuff, so they thought it
     would be helpful.” Luca built and managed several properties in the West Side Cleveland suburbs.
    “Yeah, sure, once we decide to make an offer it makes sense
     for them to check it out, but on the first look?”
    “Jen, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It will still be our decision.”
    And then, just six weeks before our wedding, shortly after all two hundred invitations had been mailed, Leo called me, excited, and said,
     “We just bought our new house, Kissy!” (Of all the pet names we could have chosen, “Kissy” was what we landed on). I was stunned.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Dad saw a place that was open right next to one of his
     properties, so it’ll be perfect—I’ll help with the upkeep there, and in exchange, they’re going to help with the down payment.”
    “Did you sign the papers? I mean, is it a done deal?”
    “Yep—I can’t wait for you to see it!”
    “Let me get this straight. You just bought the house that we are going to live in without me seeing it AND your parents are part owners?”
    “Yeah….so?”
    “So you don’t you think I should have been part of that decision?”
    “Look, it was too good to pass up, and we had to act fast. You’re going to love it!”
    “But what if we want to move and your parents don’t want us
     to sell? What then?”
    “Jen, my parents are not going to screw us, if that’s what you’re implying.” I imagined steam coming out of my ears like in a Warner Brothers cartoon.
    “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you did this.”
    “I don’t know why you’re so pissed. After all, it was my money from my condo that helped make this happen.”
    “And your parents’ money, don’t forget that!” And then I
     hung up. People talk about red flags, and this one was raised high on the flagpole, waving prominently. I was conflicted and thought about calling off the wedding. For two weeks I stewed and analyzed and fretted and sought advice.
     My parents maintained the dynamic that we established after I went to college: it’s your decision, and we’ll support you no matter what. My friends, like everyone else, were thoroughly charmed by Leo (or “Raymond”—remember, everybody loved him).
    “So what? You have an awesome soon-to-be husband who bought you a HOUSE! What the hell’s the problem?”
    For me, it always came down to the embarrassment factor of calling off a wedding and losing the money already invested. Oddly, I didn’t
     focus on the relationship at all. Three weeks before the big day, I still had no idea whether I was going to go through with it, though I kept that to myself. And always playing in my head was the fact that where I came from and
     in that time, marriage was the next step. We’d been dating for five years, and in Ohio in the early nineties, if you didn’t break up by that time, you got married. Between 1993 and 1995 I was in at least ten weddings.
    Two weeks before the wedding Leo took me to the house. The
     previous owners had just vacated, and he brought me there, blindfolded me, and set up candles and a picnic on the living room floor. He took off the