My parents couldn't stand Isabel, and they had some good reasons. They actually visited us a few times, and Isabel was a terrible hostess. (The house wouldn't be ready when they arrived, for example, and I had to do everything.)
Two weeks before our wedding, my husband's parents called to tell him 1. they weren't coming and 2. he shouldn't marry me. Since then, I have gotten along with them about as well as you might think. PS They died hating me and disinherited my husband. PPS None of this is made up. None of it.
And now, Primo is running for state-level public office. And - it's not fun. For either of us.