Because same (Sylvia Plath wrote this)

“Get a nice little, safe little, sweet little loving little imitation man who’ll give you babies and bread and a secure roof and a green lawn and money money money every month.

A smart girl can’t have everything she wants. Compromise. Take second best. Take anything you think you can manage and sweetly master. Be sure he’s nice nice nice.

So mother never had a husband she “knew.” She married wrong and then he died. She buried him every day since in her heart, mind, and words.

So what does she know about love? Nothing. You should have it. You should get it. It’s nice. But what is it?

Well, somebody who makes you feel secure. House, money, babies: all the old anchors. A steady job.

Insurance against acts of god, madmen, burglars, murderers, cancer.

Her daughter had to disgrace her by going to a mental hospital. Bad, naughty, ungrateful girl.

She didn’t have enough insurance. Something Went Wrong. How could the fates punish her if she was so very noble and good?

And what did her daughter do? Turned down the nicest boys SHE would have married and got older and still didn’t marry anybody. Oh, she was a cross to bear.”