It’s a parent thing.
Many years ago, four decades at least, there was a Playboy cartoon which said it most eloquently.
This was so long ago that teenagers actually went out on dates.
The boy would drive to the girl’s house and knock on the door, dreading the meeting the parents, especially on what was quaintly called, a “first date.”
It is the dreaded “first date” meeting with the girl’s father.
The young fellow is sitting on the couch, nervously saying,
Well, Mr. Jones, I guess my intentions are the same as yours were when you started dating Mrs. Jones.
Behind him, Mr. Jones is reaching for the shotgun in the rack above the fireplace. . . .