I’m 37, single, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve spent my entire adult life walking in the shadow of my mother’s well-intentioned but suffocating love. She’s always been the type to take charge of every aspect of my life—choosing my clothes when I was young, monitoring my friendships, and even casting a critical eye on every guy I ever dated. “He’s not good enough for you,” she’d say. “You can do better.” The list of men who couldn’t live up to her impossible standards grew long over the years, and so did my frustration.
For a while, I believed I was doomed to stay single forever, stuck between the ideal of a love life I dreamed of and the reality of my mom’s never-ending interference. But then came Theo.Theo was different. He was funny, warm, and kind. He treated me like I was the most important person in the room whenever we were together. He had a genuine soul, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I could be myself. The connection was undeniable, and in a rare moment of hope, I thought, this might actually be it. Theo was “the one.”
I couldn’t wait to introduce him to my world.
So, I invited him over for a perfect evening—just the two of us. I planned everything down to the finest detail. A cozy dinner, soft music, and candlelight—everything screamed romance. I could already imagine how the evening would unfold. Maybe we’d even take that next step toward a future together. But little did I know, fate had other plans.
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