The Gatekeeper

I wanted to try dating again. Then my 12-year-old vowed to sabotage those ladies she didn't approve of.

(Illustration by Kim Rosen)

My wife and I split eight years ago, when our son was 6 and our daughter 10. Selling the family home, moving to new houses, settling the fate of my company, and dividing 20 years of accumulated stuff and memories was not easy. The process took a heavy toll on all of us.

For the first two years, I became a stay-at-home dad and put my career on hold. In the midst of all the changes, I sought to give my kids continuity and help them find comfort in the familiar: jumping over the sprinkler on hot days, making pizza on snowy days, sipping homemade chicken soup in bed when sick, devouring takeout food while watching a movie on Friday nights. In retrospect, I also needed to be around them. It helped me re-create the family feeling that I had lost and missed so much. Dating was the farthest thing from my mind during that time. I was not ready for it, nor were my kids.

Slowly, we all got used to our new life. Laughter and silliness found their way back into our days. I started thinking about dating.

One day, I casually asked my then 12-year-old daughter how she'd feel about me looking for a new mate. "I have to approve," she replied. "She must be nice to me. If she is not, I'll make her suffer. I will put sand in her shoes, so when she tries to put them on they will feel yucky. And I'll get up in the middle of the night and tie the shoelaces of her sneakers, so when she wakes up and puts them on, she will fall fl at on her face." I chuckled at the innocence of her threats, but I didn't miss her message. I quietly set out to find my next big love.

Friends matched me up, serendipity played its part, and I used online dating. All along, I was discreet with my kids. I was able to organize my dating around their schedule, since I was sharing custody with their mother. With the exception of an occasional joke, I didn't share much.

Six years and a few relationships later, my son is now 14 and my daughter 18. On a recent Sunday afternoon, they stumbled upon my last girlfriend and me. I had dropped them off at their mother's house, but they returned unexpectedly to pick up things that they had forgotten, bursting into the house without warning. Nothing racy was happening, thank God! We all felt surprised and awkward as I made the introductions. My kids picked up their things and hurried along.

A couple of days later, while driving, my daughter turned to me: "So, Dad, I didn't know that you were dating. My brother and I were shocked to find a woman in our house. I've been telling all my friends for years that you have not dated a woman since you and Mom split up. That's huge, Dad."

"Well, sweetie," I answered, "I decided a long time ago not to introduce anyone to you two until it became a bit serious. I've tried to be discreet, because . . ."

"That's not discreet, Dad. That's secretive."

"Sorry, didn't mean to be secretive. How much do you want to know? Do you . . ."

"I'm totally cool with you dating, but I want to know when you start going steady with someone," she cut me off . "I tell you all about boys. You must do the same. I have to approve. No woman gets in your life without me checking her out."

I smiled, remembering the threats of the innocent girl of years ago. Now a mature and beautiful young woman, with love scars of her own, she's again asserting her role. My choice of mate affects her life, too, so she wants to have a say. She doesn't need to worry much, though: I can't imagine being with someone who doesn't get along with my kids.

I'm still dating, still looking for the love of my life. Since that conversation with my daughter, however, she, my son, and I now talk and joke openly about my dating. If you become my steady date and you cross my doorway, I give you fair warning: Check your shoes and the laces of your sneakers in the morning. The gatekeeper is watching.

Ayis Antoniou is a food and high-tech entrepreneur living in Milton. Among his ventures are the Dancing Deer Baking Co. and Tiny Trapeze Confections. Send comments to coupling@globe.com.

STORY IDEAS You may send yours to coupling@globe.com. The magazine cannot respond to unsolicited ideas or manuscripts.