I never expected my daughters to become the gatekeepers of my love life—but that’s exactly what happened.
For years, I struggled to keep a relationship going. The pattern was always the same: I’d meet a great guy, things would get serious, and then… he’d meet my daughters. Within days, he’d be gone.
At first, I thought it was me. Maybe I wasn’t lovable enough. Maybe I had terrible taste in men. But after my third breakup in a row, I started paying attention to what happened during those introductions. My daughters, bless their hearts, treated every new boyfriend like a suspect in a crime drama. They’d demand to know his salary, his relationship history, even his five-year life plan—all before dessert.
Their hearts were in the right place. They’d seen me hurt before, and they weren’t about to let it happen again. But their tactics were backfiring. No man could survive that kind of scrutiny.
Finally, I sat them down. “I love that you want to protect me,” I told them. “But I need you to trust me too.” It wasn’t an easy conversation, but it was a necessary one. Slowly, they began to relax.
The next time I introduced someone, they still kept a close eye on him—but they didn’t scare him off. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a real shot at happiness.
Protection is love. But so is trust.
