Should we throw a guy if his parents are against our relationship?

It was through familiarity with the guy's parents that I realized that I did not want to live with him for a minute longer.
- Hope, let's go on a weekend to my parents in Simferopol? - Grisha threw without much enthusiasm. I looked at my boyfriend and shook my head. Another type! So what holds me near this dull, like an overripe pear, positive, like an anode, and completely devoid of a sense of humor for four years already ?!
- For a week! Until the second! We will leave for Komarovo! We'll go! In Komarov ... - I could not resist and sang at the top of my voice.
"To the Crimea, to Simferopol," Grisha specified, and not a single muscle twitched in his impenetrable face.
No, joking with Grisha - a useless and tiring occupation. He did not understand the jokes at point-blank range, but quite seriously could read a whole report on my innate recklessness. But in this Grisha was wrong. If I were so reckless, could I really live with him?
All my friends were also interested in one question: what did I find in this Grishka? Honestly speaking, I myself do not know the answer.
"And what did you find in this pigeon?" - Asked my girlfriend Alka. - Name without hesitation one of his dignity.
"No, I can not think without hesitation," I kicked. "But he certainly has dignity."

I remembered: loyalty!
"He has no chance to interest even a blind cripple," Alka finished. Grishka was not liked not only by Alka, but by all my merry friends. Well, okay.
Maybe I just need this! After the tragic-romantic love story, which I experienced in the second year of the institute, the unflappable and positive Grisha seemed a bulwark of stability. Over time, life fundamentally shook such my opinion. As a staple of the stability of our relations, I became somehow imperceptible. I earned more, my career developed rapidly, I managed to buy an apartment on credit, I had a car.

Life clearly worked , and I began to attend to the thought that Grisha could be left. But the fear of loneliness did not give the idea of ​​parting to become a reality.
"Listen, Grisha, are you sure that your old people want to see me?" - I returned to the conversation about the trip.
"If we're going to get married, they should get to know you," he said logically, and I laughed. It turns out that I'm a bride!
"Grishka, will we get married?"
- You something like bryaknesh! He muttered. "And you do not know what to do!" After these words, I listened to a half-hour report on family life. Grisha liked to be clever, especially about the financial side of the family issue. I just listened attentively - I'm used to it. Although in his place would be silent - for all the time I never reproached him for the fact that he sent almost all his earnings to his parents. We actually lived at my expense. But it did not irritate me.
"Do you even take your family into consideration?" Asked my Cicero. "Do you know what it means to have a connection with your mother, father?"

But it was not necessary to say this! My parents divorced when I was fifteen, started new families, and our contacts became more friendly than related. We often called back, sometimes called each other. But my friend never went to his parents. And they, in principle, did not show much desire to communicate. I could not understand how he kept in touch with his parents.
"All right," I interrupted Grisha's reflections. - Let's go to Simferopol! Grisha was preparing for the trip all week.
"I'm not going to go naked, though ... the sea is nearby!" I'll go in a swimsuit! - I joked, but here, I listened to moralizing. Grisha told me that we are going to an old philistine family, where we must not joke. I recommended having a jacket and a skirt of medium length. And here we are at the end of the road! The pre-war house, the third floor. Two rooms and a kitchen. All terribly cluttered with old furniture, napkins, vases. Philistines! I cope with the surging grief and radiantly grinned Grishina to my mother.
"So that's what you are," Madame stated languidly, and rushed off to the kitchen to finish the potatoes. From the kitchen, I heard a question addressed to me:
"Can you cook potatoes?" Grisha's mother cried to me. A lump rolled to my throat. What a rudeness! Well, I do not like you, so be educated people, smile, pretend that everything is all right! I'm smiling!
"I'm a dentist, not a cook," I cried, and Grishin pushed himself into the armchair. Apparently, the privilege to yell in this house was with his wife.

She appeared in the doorway , looked at me contemptuously and said:
- I do not like dentists! They spoiled all my teeth! I hope you do not send Grisha to lunch in the dining room? We just loved dining in one inexpensive dining room. But, on the other hand, - what is the reason to argue with a woman who has not yet become my mother-in-law?
I pretended not to have heard the question. With that, lunch began.
- How old are your parents not living together? Asked the "dear" mistress.
- Are you really interested? Why? - I was surprised.
"It seems that you want to become our Grisha's wife, and since you come into our family, I must know all about you," she had iron arguments.
"They divorced many years ago, but I keep in touch with them all the time." Their new families have accepted them, and we have normal relations, "I reported.
"I do not imagine two families from the bride at the wedding," she muttered.
- Speaking specifically, I imagine that my wedding could well do without me. It's enough for me to register at the registry office, "I retorted, and she blushed like a cancer. My answer killed her. I looked at this still unmarried woman and could not understand why she already does not like me in advance. It was insulting - horror! Grishka was to warn about what awaits me in this family with old traditions. I wonder why this moole never called me by name? My thoughts were torn off by madam's voice.

She again attacked.
- And how does cohabitation with a man consistent with your morals without a registration? She asked sarcastically.
- It completely agrees! - I assured her and smiled cheerfully. "Besides, it was Grisha's idea: he claims that we are saving the economy as a whole ... I'm telling the truth, Grisha?" She uttered these words and tossed the fork onto the plate with force. "What am I doing here?" - thought with disgust. But Grisha's mother did not pay attention to my forking with forks. She spoke, and through the veil of her irritation she heard that I was a very suspicious woman, that I wanted to take possession of her only son, that Grisha had everything I lacked-an apartment, a car, a position in society. I laughed.
- Oh, how wrong you are! - I am suffering with suffering. - The apartment is mine, and I bought it on credit, and my mom gave money for the first payment. The car was given to me by my father, and it's me, and not Grisha buys food, clothes! Clear? I fell silent and again mentally asked myself: "What are you doing here, Nadezhka?" There was no answer. Madame sat with wide-open mouth in amazement. Grishin's father strained coughing in his handkerchief, and Grishka sprinkled a chop on the plate. I stood up abruptly, waved a pen and said:
- Hello! Thank you for the warning, I agree with you: I have nothing to do in your family! Farewell!
I got behind the wheel of Honda and drove north. After twelve hours I got home. I wanted to sleep terribly, but before I fell into bed, I put things in the corridor of Grishka.