stiffly at first, then wrapped his arms around me.
“I think Mom would approve,” I told him.
“I hope so,” he murmured.
Soon, he started meeting wonderful women.
He told me about them before every date.
One worked at a library.
Another owned a small bakery.
A third volunteered at an animal shelter on weekends.
He seemed hopeful each time.
But none of them ever stayed.
At first, I assumed they simply were not compatible.
Dating was complicated.
People could enjoy one evening together and still decide there was no future.
I told myself that every time one of the women stopped responding.
Then I noticed something strange.
Every relationship ended the exact same way.
The date would go perfectly.
My father would call me afterward and tell me about the restaurant, the conversation, and whatever small detail had made the woman laugh.
He never sounded arrogant.
He sounded relieved.
