He hesitated before admitting, “Your daughters are… intense. They grilled me about everything—my past, finances, family background. Your older daughter even asked if I’d move in and help with expenses. When I hesitated, she just stared at me like I was failing a test.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, but I also felt frustrated. My daughters’ protectiveness had clearly scared off my previous boyfriends. That evening, I sat them down for a talk.
“I know you’re trying to protect me,” I began, “but interrogating the men I bring home isn’t helping. You need to trust me to make my own decisions.”
My older daughter looked sheepish, and the younger one muttered, “We just don’t want you to get hurt, Mom.”
I softened, taking their hands. “I appreciate that more than you know. But relationships are complicated enough without turning them into interviews.”
They nodded, understanding. From that point on, the atmosphere at home felt lighter. A few months later, I met someone special. This time, my daughters welcomed him warmly—though I had a feeling they were still keeping a watchful eye, just in case.