There’s a moment in every new relationship – particularly when you’re dating later in life – when things get serious enough to meet “the family”. You’ve been getting along beautifully. The conversation flows, the chemistry’s there, you even start to imagine what a shared future might look like. Then comes the dinner invitation: “I’d love you to meet my kids.”
You agree, maybe even a little excitedly, thinking this will be the final piece of the puzzle. But instead of a warm welcome, you’re met with cool glances, clipped words and eye-rolls that could rival a teenager’s. You try to be gracious, but halfway through the main course, you realise: you really don’t like them.
That’s what happened to a reader who recently wrote to me. She’s in her 60s, newly dating a man she describes as “lovely, kind and grounded”. But after one dinner with her partner’s adult children – aged 27 and 29 – she’s feeling rattled. They were dismissive of her, but worse, they were rude to their own father. Now she’s wondering if that behaviour is a deal breaker, and how she could possibly tell her partner without hurting him.
It’s a very real dilemma. And if you’ve ever navigated dating after 60, you’ll know that falling for someone often means falling into their already-established world – children, ex-partners, family history and all.
When grown-up kids don’t grow up
There’s a misconception that once children reach adulthood, they’ll automatically welcome their parent’s happiness – especially after a divorce or years on their own. But in reality, adult children can struggle with a parent’s new relationship just as much as younger ones.
They may feel protective, resentful or simply unsettled by the change. Sometimes they act out with subtle digs or cold indifference; sometimes, as in your case, they’re just plain rude. None of that is your fault.
But here’s the tricky part: when you’re the newcomer, it’s not your role to call them out – even when you’re dying to. Your partner has to be the one to address it, and that’s where honest communication becomes everything.
The kind conversation you need to have
Before you make any big decisions about walking away, talk to your partner. And do it when you’re both relaxed, not in the heat of post-dinner frustration.
You might say something like:
“I really enjoyed meeting your children and I can see how much you love them. But I did feel uncomfortable with how they spoke to you – and if I’m honest, how they treated me too. I don’t want to overstep, but I wanted to share that with you because it left me feeling uncertain about how to move forward.”
Notice what that does. You’re not attacking her children; you’re sharing how you felt. You’re not giving him an ultimatum; you’re inviting an honest discussion.
If he’s a healthy communicator, he’ll listen and likely acknowledge that the kids’ behaviour wasn’t okay. If he’s defensive or dismissive, that will tell you a lot about the dynamic you’d be stepping into.
Ask yourself the Big Question
When you’re dating in your 60s, it’s worth remembering that you’re not here to fix anyone’s family. You’ve earned the right to peace and companionship, not drama and disrespect.
So ask yourself:
Can I love this person without accepting the behaviour of his children?
Can we build something of our own that doesn’t require my involvement with them?
Or will their presence always overshadow the relationship?
If his children are toxic and he enables them, that’s a serious red flag. But if he recognises their behaviour and draws boundaries, there’s hope. Families can evolve. And sometimes, what starts as hostility softens once they realise you’re not a threat – just someone who genuinely cares for their dad.
If you decide it’s a deal breaker
If after honest reflection you truly can’t see a future that includes them, then you owe it to yourself – and him – to be kind but clear.
Try saying:
“I think you’re a wonderful person, and I’ve really valued getting to know you. But after meeting your children, I’ve realised that this might not be the right fit for me. I want you to be happy, but I also need to be honest about what I can and can’t manage emotionally.”
It’s gentle, truthful and spares both of you future hurt.
Because here’s the thing about love after 60 – it should feel like a gift, not a battlefield. You’ve already done the hard yards of raising families, negotiating exes and making compromises. You deserve ease.
So trust your instincts. If something feels off, it probably is. And if walking away preserves your peace, that’s not failure – it’s self-respect.
Here’s Bess Strachan’s last column:
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