My daughter introduced me to her boyfriend. She is 19 and he is 40. I am still in shock. I couldn’t even hide my discomfort. This happened just an hour ago, during lunch.
Several days ago, my daughter told me she wanted to introduce me to someone important. I assumed it would be a college student or a coworker. I cooked a nice meal, set the table, and even made dessert because I wanted him to feel welcome. When the doorbell rang and I opened the door, I saw a man who, for a second, I thought had come to the wrong house….
He extended his hand and said, “Nice to meet you. I’m your daughter’s boyfriend.” The first thing I did was look at my daughter to see if this was some kind of joke. She was smiling happily. We sat down to lunch, and the atmosphere became tense from the very first minute. I tried to ask normal questions, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the age difference. I asked him what he did for a living. He answered calmly and then asked me some questions about my job. My daughter kept looking at him with a smile, as if she were waiting for my approval.
At one point, I asked him his age. He replied, “Forty.” The fork froze in my hand. I looked at my daughter, and she, still smiling, said, “I knew you were going to make that face.” I answered, “How could I not?” We didn’t speak for several seconds. We didn’t even touch the food. I tried to change the subject by asking how they had met, but my daughter wouldn’t let him finish his answers. She kept interrupting him to tell stories, served him more juice, adjusted his napkin, and smiled at him constantly, as if she wanted to convince me they were the perfect couple.
At one point, he said to me, “I understand that this may be difficult for you.” I replied, “It’s not difficult… it’s unexpected.” My daughter immediately intervened: “Mom, please, don’t start.” I said, “I’m not starting anything. I’m just trying to understand what I’m seeing.” Silence fell again. Then he told me he loved my daughter very much and that his intentions were serious. I couldn’t stay quiet and asked if he had children. He said he did. I asked how old they were. He answered, “My oldest son is twenty years old.” I looked at my daughter again and said, “So your son is older than my daughter.”
He looked down, took a sip of water, and didn’t respond. My daughter began stirring her rice with a fork without eating. The atmosphere was already completely unbearable.
When they finished lunch, he stood up to help clear the table. I told him it wasn’t necessary. My daughter went out to the terrace with him, and I heard them talking in low voices. I managed to catch her saying, “I told you this was going to happen.” A few minutes later they came back inside, said goodbye, and left holding hands. I closed the door, returned to the dining room, and kept staring at the three plates still on the table. I still haven’t washed them. I’m still trying to process everything.
What do you advise me?
