ELEANOR France admits to meddling in her 19-year-old’s love life, ruining his date nights and encouraging boys-only trips.
All because she believes teens aren’t emotionally equipped to handle heartbreak.
Teen love can be an emotional rollercoaster[/caption]
Kids’ heartache hurts protective mums too[/caption]
SCRAPING my son’s half-eaten takeaway into the bin, I head to his room to try to lift his mood with his favourite dessert – sticky toffee pudding and custard.
It’s not exam results that have got him down, or the fact the football team he’s played for since he was five are struggling.
No, my son Fynn’s girlfriend has dumped him — and he is devastated.
But while he’s moping around, listening to sad songs and watching The Notebook — yes, The Notebook — I couldn’t be more relieved.
Because, full disclosure, I did everything I could to sabotage this 18-month teenage tryst.
My reasoning is simple. Relationships and coupling up are difficult at any time in life, but they’re nigh on impossible when you’re a teenager and have neither the emotional context nor the right hormonal balance to cope.
And experts agree. Teen romances are the “most intense”, according to Oxford academic Dr Lucy Foulkes, who urges us not to trivialise them.
“Young love quite often gets dismissed as puppy love or something. People are flippant about it,” she told the New Scientist CultureLab podcast.
“But actually, it can be the most intense relationship of some people’s lives in good and bad ways.”
This is exactly why I strive to break up my son’s fledgling romances — and ending this recent one was important.
Before his girlfriend split up with him, I took my lad to see his grandparents 200 miles away rather than attend the summer party she went to.
I had hoped, with him away from the do, something would happen there to end them. But that didn’t work.
I knew relationship would eventually end in tears
I also purposely walked into his room while they were together, talking, making sure the mood was ruined.
I reminded him about his verruca treatment to flatten any promise of passion there might have been.
And I would consistently drop suggestions about holidays my lad could take which I knew wouldn’t appeal to his girlfriend, and offer to drive him on boys-only trips to theme parks.
Reminding my 19-year-old of exes he used to get on with, or daughters of pals of mine who are gorgeous and at different schools, became a full-time preoccupation.
In the end, it was her feelings of insecurity that brought about the teary Snaps that ended the romance he thought would last forever.
But I harbour a hope that my interfering was, in some way, to blame, too.
The reason I was working so hard to end his romance is that I simply don’t want him to have to deal with complicated, intense relationships at his age.
So I have no regrets and honestly believe one day he’d thank me — if, God forbid, he ever found out.
I don’t hate my middle child’s ex — quite the contrary.
In fact, I feel sorry for her, despite me channelling the Capulets and Montagues and conniving to end their relationship.
I wouldn’t go back to being her age for the winning lottery numbers.
The pressures are huge. While my 13-year-old daughter Erin currently has no interest in boys, I cannot imagine the stress I’ll feel when she does.
My eldest, Liam, is thankfully now 21, but I’m adamant my teen stays single, simply because I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to wrap him in my arms as he spills tears about the girl breaking his heart.
Yes, I spent months trying to split this specific relationship up. Not because I wanted either my son or his girlfriend, Evie, to be sad, but because I knew it would eventually end in tears.
I just wish Evie’s mum had tag-teamed me to save me half the work, because I’ll do the same should my teenage daughter start a relationship.
Now 45, I was barely out of my teens myself when I met the father of my children at the tender age of 23.
I took my lad to see his grandparents 200 miles away to dodge her party
I thought I knew what I was doing, but staring down the barrel of an impending divorce, I’m starting to think we should have a legal age on relationships, the same way we do on voting or joining the military.
Personally, I’d advocate 25.
There are simply too many pressures on teen relationships in the social media-focused era they’re operating in, so I’ll play the fairy godmother of sabotage until my three children reach their twenties, or hopefully even older.
I’ll continue to suggest they stay single until I deem them more capable of being with a partner and not having their worlds end when a Snapchat goes unanswered for a few minutes.
While I wouldn’t change having had my eldest when I was a little younger than normal, I’m quick to remind my kids of the cost.
I had nothing in common with my friends, who were travelling and going to the pub every night.
I also had nothing in common at play groups with the other mums, who were a lot older than me.
I purposely walked into his room while they were together to ruin the mood
My normally carefree, loving and funny son, who I’m trying desperately to cheer up this week, has withdrawn into himself since last week’s dumping and I’m a busy working woman who doesn’t have the time to bake puddings until the sadness lifts.
There have been sad songs, like Christina Perri’s Jar Of Hearts and Noah Kahan’s maudlin Stick Season, on repeat and he cries himself to sleep.
Young girls are under even more pressure
The week has been filled with me and him up until 3am, all down to Evie finishing with him because she felt insecure, despite him being the most attentive boyfriend.
She suffers from anxiety and my caring son read up on her conditions so he could talk her down from a panic attack.
And he thought nothing of changing plans they’d made with his friends when the idea of meeting in a shopping centre overwhelmed her.
But if I think my boy has it bad, Evie is testament to the fact teenage girls are under even more pressure.
I talked about his verruca treatment to flatten any promise of passion
According to the latest statistics, 30 per cent of adolescent girls have experienced a “depressive episode”, compared with 11.5 per cent of adolescent boys. I’m not surprised.
The pressure on their appearance alone would have had me cowering under a pillow with my A-ha annual if I’d had to deal with it.
I had no idea what a “lash lift” was until last week, whereas my teen son’s ex has it done regularly.
Her nail polish changes weekly and she works three or even four jobs so she can afford the same Nike Air Force kicks everyone else has.
There’s only one currency for teenage girls these days and that’s to fit into the tribe and look “fleek” (that’s trendy, for those of us non-Gen Z types).
It must be exhausting.
I constantly reminded him of other exes that he’d got on better with
And thanks to pressure from shows like Love Island, their make-up has to be on point constantly.
At that age, I was smearing Avon kohl pencils around my eyes, but today’s teens are bombarded by TikTok videos featuring pricey products that they can’t afford.
They can’t spell hyaluronic acid, but they darn well know how it benefits their complexion.
They’re videoed, Snapped, filtered and “slut-shamed” for talking to a boy in their science class.
So I’m terrified of what lies ahead for my daughter. I can’t protect her from the boys who will want their way with her and one thing that hasn’t changed since my youth is that the more girls a lad snogs, the bigger “lad” he is.
But the more boys a girl snogs, the bigger slag she is.
Charlie XCX’s Brat Summer vibe may have tried to change the narrative on girls’ independence and doing what they want, but I’ve seen first hand how the gender roles of judgement haven’t changed that much since my day.
Now, because I’m older and wiser and have the context of a failed marriage to know I shouldn’t have leapt into a relationship so fast, I’ll continue to sabotage my son’s romances for as long as I see fit.
I’m not a perfect parent, but when it comes to teenage love, mother really does know best.
- *Some names have been changed.