Prime’s gripping show ‘The Girlfriend’ holds a mirror up to toxic mothers obsessed with their own sons

When Prime’s hit series The Girlfriend landed earlier this year, I expected a glossy psychological thriller to dip into before bed.
What I didn’t expect was to feel as though I was watching a dramatised version of my own life playing out on screen.
The show doesn’t just explore obsession, manipulation and secrets – it shines a light on the darker side of motherhood, particularly the kind driven by the Jocasta complex, where the mother-son bond becomes distorted, possessive and suffocating.

The series’ villainous matriarch is a disturbingly accurate depiction of mothers who simply cannot tolerate their sons forming independent adult lives, especially when it comes to romantic partners. In these situations, the mother doesn’t merely disapprove; she becomes consumed by jealousy, rivalry and the terror of losing control. And when such a woman has malignant narcissistic traits, her behaviour becomes even more dangerous. Instead of stepping back, she interferes, manipulates, and plots from the shadows – all the while presenting herself as the wounded party.

This was painfully familiar to me. In my own experience, the mother reacted to my presence in her son’s life with a level of hostility that escalated far beyond simple tension. What began as subtle undermining soon morphed into something much more obsessive. She seemed determined to dismantle my confidence and my relationship, and when direct attempts didn’t work, the harassment simply shifted form. She used others to deliver her messages, stir tension and maintain the pressure, all while keeping enough distance to pretend to appear innocent. It was an exhausting cycle that strained her relationship with her son far more than with me. In the end, she damaged the very bond she was so desperate to preserve.

This is why I believe The Girlfriend captures the claustrophobic intensity of enmeshment – that sticky, suffocating dynamic where a mother and adult son remain emotionally fused long after childhood should have ended. Cherry Laine, the heroine of the series, becomes the target of her partner’s mother’s obsession, yet she refuses to be dismantled. She sees the manipulation for what it is and refuses to shrink herself to accommodate it. Watching her outmanoeuvre the toxicity with such ferocity felt almost cathartic. Cherry wins, not through cruelty or counter-manipulation, but simply by standing firm and refusing to let someone else’s pathology define her worth.

What makes The Girlfriend so compelling is that it doesn’t glamorise the mother’s behaviour or pretend it comes from a place of love. Instead, it exposes the destruction left in the wake of narcissistic jealousy and control. For many women, this storyline isn’t fiction; it’s a reality they’ve lived through in silence, minimised or dismissed by those who insist that “all mothers mean well.”

But some don’t. Some can’t let go. Some become so consumed by their own needs that their son’s partner becomes the enemy.

And in the end, as both the show and my own experience have proven, it’s the mother herself who pays the heaviest price – because control, once lost, is rarely regained, and obsession always exacts a cost.