I used to joke that my daughters were my “relationship detectors”—if a guy stuck around after meeting them, he was a keeper. The problem? None of them ever did.
At first, I didn’t understand why. I’d meet someone wonderful, we’d have chemistry, and then… he’d meet my girls. Suddenly, he’d stop calling. Texts would go unanswered. Dates would get “rescheduled” indefinitely.
After this happened one too many times, I finally saw what was going on. My daughters weren’t just meeting my boyfriends—they were vetting them like Secret Service agents. “What’s your credit score?” “Have you ever cheated?” “What’s your relationship with your mother?” It was less of a meet-and-greet and more of an inquisition.
I knew they were coming from a good place. They’d watched me go through heartbreak, and they were determined to shield me from more pain. But in doing so, they’d built a wall around me—one that kept everyone out.
So, I sat them down. “I need you to trust me,” I said. “I know what I’m doing.” It took some convincing, but eventually, they agreed to ease up.
The next time I introduced a boyfriend, the difference was night and day. They were still cautious, but they didn’t bombard him with questions. And for the first time in years, a relationship actually had room to breathe.
Love shouldn’t feel like a battlefield. Sometimes, the best protection is a little bit of faith.
