extinguished

The problem with dating, I've come to discover, is that people actually expect a relationship on the other side of the date. After spending my entire adult life in a relationship, my year of singledom has changed me in many ways - so much so that I'm torn between the loneliness of being, well, alone and the drama-free existence of it. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd rather be single, but it looks like it's here - of course, arguably, I may not have met the right person...

...or have I?

I've been out on a few dates over the past couple of months, and I now think I might be the Queen of First Dates. I've met lots of great men, but I find faults and make deal breakers of their quirks, lifestyles, jobs and (shallowly) their appearances - though, if you ask me, life is too short to wear ugly shoes. I've become a bit of a snob, and I can honestly say I've set my standards impossibly high. I sit down post-date and pick apart the other person, intentionally extinguishing any interest or spark I was feeling.

I want someone smart, but not smarter than me because I'm afraid of feeling stupid. He needs to have an education, a good sense of humour and quite frankly, I need to find him attractive. If he doesn't like kids, he's absolutely barking up the wrong tree and don't get me started on poor grammar. He also had better be able to deal with my busy schedule, general flightiness and the fact that I'll likely publish our relationship.

Even if I'm really into someone during our date, I find myself tarnishing the positive image I had of that person by the next evening. Why? Well, the jury is still out on that one. Maybe I just need to find the spark...

...or not douse it when I see it.

How To Date A Single Mom

Dating.

What a wonderfully terrifying rollercoaster of craziness that is.

It's no big secret that I've found myself back in the dating game over the past six months, though I can honestly say I made a premature return starting out. I was terrified of being alone. Terrified. I'm not afraid of being alone any more, but I'm totally ready to be independent and be in a relationship if it's right.

So, with my newfound independence and an open mind I've gone out on a handful of dates and I've experienced both sides of the "you're a single mom" reaction spectrum. You see, it's very different to date when you're a separated single mom. A horse of a different colour, you might say. I've had dates who were so disgusted by the fact that I had a kid that I'm pretty sure they went home and showered with bleach, and I've had guys completely overstep the bounds by essentially offering to be F's dad. WHAT THE WHAT? There have been guys who'd rather pretend that I'm a totally single, never-with-another, no-strings-attached kind of girl and then there's been a small handful who've been um, normal.

I thought maybe, just maybe, I could offer a little insight to all the men out there:

Single moms, like other women, are still people. Individuals. We are more than our pregnancy, breastfeeding, formula, diaper bags and potty training.

We don't need your help. We don't need your opinion on dealing with the dad or how to raise our kid(s).

If a Mom introduces you to her kid(s), she likes you. But know this: she's judging you every second of your first meeting.

You're never going to be the single most important person in her life, but if you're lucky you might find yourself in the top two or three.

Be yourself. Discuss your boundaries, how you feel and be open about your expectations. If you're not feeling it, go. We're big girls, but don't drag our kids down the road to heartbreak.

Ignore-A-Text

I suck at dating.

I hate hurting people's feelings or letting someone down. I'm genuinely flattered by someone's interest, but I also get sick of people way too quickly. I consider it nothing shy of a miracle that I've been in 4 long-term relationships, although I'm just realizing now that all of them (including my marriage) were long-distance for the most part. It's now less surprising that I put up with those people for so long, but I digress.

People.

Upon moving into the city, I had decided that I was going to meet lots of new people whether at school, at the park or through friends new and old. I planned on having an open mind, going on dates and just having fun, so I did. I met new people. I went on dates and I had fun just being out, but I'm stuck with what you might call some "clingers" now.

Avoiding future "dates" by being "super busy" didn't solve the problem, so I decided to gently lay it all out on the table with the age-old "I'm don't feel like I can get involved" line. That didn't seem to work either. So now I'm just straight-up ignoring the texts. Lucky for me, the phone hasn't started ringing. If it does, I might have a meltdown.

These were genuinely nice guys: they were kind, funny,  attractive and they had jobs (bonus!). For about a week, I thought I was really into one of them but that faded after his 476th text. Another I only met once for coffee, but he's asked me out about two dozen times since then. I haven't responded to the last text asking me to go out this week. I've run out of excuses and "Sorry, but I'm obviously less interested than you are" just seems a little too harsh.

Maybe I'll just be super busy for another little while until they run out of energy. Or interest.

Whichever comes first.

Big Girl Bed

In under three hours, I'll be saying those little big words that break my heart and kissing F goodbye. Just the though of saying those words so soon after arriving home makes my heart ache and my nose tingle in the way only noses can tingle before you cry. I'll see him again in a few days - a week at most - but I'll miss him dearly until I see that big smile and bounds of energy running towards me for a hug.

I can still remember the first time I held F - he was twelve minutes old before he was laid in my arms. I held him for less than ten minutes before he was whisked away to the nursery for his first bath, J and both of our mothers in tow. It had been a long day, spent walking around the hospital and anxiously waiting to become parents and grandparents. My own wellbeing was in question, and so I spent over an hour hooked up to monitors waiting [im]patiently for my blood pressure to return to normal. I wasn't even allowed to stand up, much less walk to my room so I sat anxiously in the wheelchair as a nurse pushed me through the hallways to the Mother-Baby unit.

I can still see him wrapped in soft, white flannel looking absolutely perfect and knowing he was mine. I sat on my hospital bed, still hooked up to this monitor and that monitor, watching everyone else hold my baby. We took photos, I ate my first meal of the day, and we laughed and cried together while my heart burst with love and pride. Within a day or two of my return home, after J had gone back to work in the city, I gave up on F's bassinet: he hated it. We set up his crib, and he hated that too. Finally, after making several trips between my bed and his crib and bassinet, I stripped my bed of pillows and blankets and I laid him next to me. He was asleep within minutes, and our co-sleeping arrangement was born.

I was on the receiving end of a lot of flak over my decision to co-sleep. I had never realized the way my sleeping habits affected those of others (nor did I or do I care). F rarely has nightmares, and has never been afraid of the dark. When he turned two and we had our own home, I bought him a toddler bed and hoped he would sleep in his own room. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. While I enjoyed having the bed to myself, I always missed him and from time to time I slept in the toddler bed with him. Sharing my bed with him this weekend, after a week of sleeping my my new queen-sized bed alone, was wonderful. My own "big girl" bed will be extra lonely tonight.

The moment of "good-bye" is anxiety-ridden and downright frightening. My heart will break into a million pieces when I put my car in drive and knowing that doesn't make it any easier. But, it's not just leaving that scares me. It's coming home, too. Two weeks ago, F saw his father for the first time in months and referred to him first as "man" and then as "guy". He eventually settled on calling him Smokey, the nickname all of J's friends and family members refer to him by. My son didn't even know his father. What if I come home one day and he doesn't know me? I don't think I could possibly cope.

What if the hurtful words slung at me earlier this year are right: what if I'm a bad mom for going back to school? As much as I've missed F, I've also enjoyed time on my own. I've enjoyed meeting new people and - dare I say it - going out and having fun. For the first time in 4 years, I have been able to explore myself and grow as a person. In spite of missing F every minute of every day, I'm enjoying myself: I love my class, my apartment and my new friends. Even though I miss him, I'm the happiest I have been in years, and as much as I decided to go back to school for me, I'm back in school for him.

When all is said and done, I hope F realizes that I had to go to make his life better and I hope that one day, he will be half as proud of me as I am of him.

Leaping

"Are you seeing anyone yet?"

I hate this question with the burning heat of a thousand suns.

While I fight back the urge to ask people if they've broken up with their jackass SO's or tell them I'm more interested in a relationship with my right hand, I usually smile politely and answer a simple "No,". I know that most of the people who ask me about my dating life mean well, but it's really none of their business. How do you politely say that? How do you kindly tell your grandmother's friend that she's overstepped the boundaries?

The facts are this: I'm an almost-25-year-old single Mom to a beautiful little boy. I'm also enrolled in an advanced diploma program in Public Relations. I've just completely uprooted my life in an effort to make it better after separating from my husband - six months after we were married. It's been almost ten months since we split up and I am not seeing anyone, nor am I in any rush to. Firstly, can we go back to the beginning? I'm twenty-four years old. I have been pregnant or a parent for almost all of my twenties. I've been in a committed, long-term relationship for all of my twenties until now. Can't I just figure myself out - is that so much to ask?

Some people ask out of concern for my son - "he needs a father, dear". Had my wonderful parents not raised me so well, I would turn around and tell these people (in no uncertain terms) where they can stick that idea. Am I sad that F doesn't have his dad in his life? Yes, I am. It hurts more that my son doesn't have his father around than the breakup ever could have. A big part of the reason J and I were still together was my own narrow-minded idea that he "needed his Dad".  The truth is that F has a lot of wonderful male role-models, like my Dad and my many uncles, cousins and my brother. I always point that out. To me, that's like saying that a same-sex couple can't raise a happy, well-adjusted child or that single-parent households are no more than a breeding ground for would-be criminals. J sends me the odd text saying how much he misses F, but the reality is that he has made no effort to be in his life.

When the timing is right, F and I will be ready to welcome someone into our lives: someone who is going to love us unconditionally, support us emotionally and be involved in our lives. I'm not going to rush it or jump in - it's not just my heart on the line. F has suffered enough loss in his life, he doesn't need someone else to let him down. I remain to believe that his dad can still change, but only J can do that. Only J can decide that he wants to be here for our son. I tried to make that decision for him, and it blew up in my face. I was barely twenty when J and I began dating, and I was 23 walking down the aisle. The last five years of my life have been a mix of joy and despair, but I wouldn't change them. They were spent concentrating on J, and then on our child. It's time for me to spend a little time on me.

I've learned that there are times to leap and times to stay still in life. I am taking a GIANT leap of faith in going back to school - I've put everything on the line. Less than week after school started, the sale of the home F and I have lived in is due to close and my life is up in the air. It's scary knowing that I might not land in my feet, but it's the good scary - like when you're about to go on a first date. The idea of dating someone new is terrifying - like when you're being chased by Zombies. Until I have the good-scary feeling about someone, I'll be rocking it solo.

And who knows: maybe that special person will be waiting to catch me.

XO

Ridin' Solo

I hate Roast Beef.

There are quite a few foods I'm not particularly fond of - a lot, actually. Roast beef is top of the list, possibly because it was almost always the meal we had when we visited my ex's family. It was never my favourite meal anyway, but I can remember crowding around that tiny table being pregnant and suffering morning sickness and making sure I didn't let my pregnancy slip because J's family wouldn't approve of it. I was after moving home with my own family before he told his parents - I should have clued in sooner, am I right? (Don't answer that).

I don't like red meat in general, tomato sauces or ketchup. I'm not particularly fond of spicy foods either. Pickles and hot sauce: yuck. I'm even super weird in that I don't really like bread unless it's hot and covered in cheese and garlic butter. Oh, and don't get me started on hot-dogs. Those foods were practically always in the grocery order when J and I lived together, both full and part-time. I always had beer and/or rum in the house for him. We always listened to his music in the car, and more often than not, watched his shows or he played PS3 during our down-time. I bought the stuff and listened to the music, read books while he watched stupid shows and I never once complained because I loved him. But between you and I, I don't miss a single bit of it. (Except for sex. I miss regular sex. With another person.)

Sure, I get lonely and occasionally miss having someone to sit next to on the couch and I would love it if someone else took out the trash, but I'm starting to feel like lately the pros of singledom are far outweighing the cons. Some of the things I'm enjoying about being single might seem like the little things, but they are pretty fabulous if you ask me:

1. No man shows, unless I want to watch them. This includes those ones on SpikeTV involving cars and motors and things I'm really uninterested in. AWESOME. This goes one step further to encompass those shooting/zombie video games that cost almost as much as my bloody grocery order.

2. Not Shaving. I don't have to shave anything unless I want to - which is a great time saver! My mustache is starting to get in the way when I'm eating though... just kidding!

3. Nobody complains about "stinky nail polish". FACT: I love nail polish. I love painting my nails, over and over. I would paint my nails a different colour every day of the week if I had the time and energy to do so.

4. Me-Time occasionally includes painting my nails, but it's also the time I like to spend at my computer, painting actual things, making jewelry, drooling over Channing Tatum and watching stupid shows like Breaking Amish. It's awesome, and as long as Finley is asleep or otherwise engaged, it's all mine.

5. One word: STARFISH. If you don't know what this is, you're missing out. Go try it. I won't bother waiting. Enjoy.

Probably the best part of being single, however, is knowing that I am free to pursue whatever I want. Sure, I have F to think about but I can make decisions based entirely on what is best for me because the fact is, what's best for me includes what's best for F. I don't have to take a job in a certain city based on another person's job, make a meal based on anyone else's preference and I am free to fall in love with whomever and whatever I want. That, my friends, is what I call liberating. And awesome.

So, if you're single like me and missing relationships or jealously stewing over your coupled up friends... rejoice! You can starfish every night! In the meantime, be strong and enjoy your independence and time alone - you never know when you might fall in love again! :)

 

Standing Still

Ever since my disaster date with B, I have been feeling a little off.

I'm disappointed. Let down. Bummed out. I'm a lot of things, actually. The only thing I'm not is standing still. Letting it all sink in.

This date, unfortunately, isn't the only let down I've felt since John and I split up. What's that thing called when you try to avoid the loss you feel after a break up? Oh, yeah. Rebounding. Yeah... I did that. BIG mistake. I later found out that the rebound was dating my old friend from high school. I looked like an idiot, and I felt a million times worse.

After that, I swore I was going to be more selective... be more careful. That's when I met P. He was adorable, and I had an immediate crush on him. We met, rather embarassingly, at the restaurant I was employed as Dining Room Manager at for most of the tourist season when I served he and his friend. He kept coming back. I kept being the waitress. Finally, I gave him my number and then was overcome with the same foolishness and giddiness I recall from agreeing to sit with a boy at lunchtime when I was 14.

As I got to know more about him, I felt like I had met someone with whom I could have a great connection. There was just one thing I had to deal with: He didn't know I was a single mom. That was a big enough topic for me to approach. Next, I was going to have to tell him about that thing where I was married, and then separated, and headed for divorce. Oh, boy.

I was having an amazing day with P. My girlfriends from work (Thanks Liz and Shelbs!) helped me pick out my outfit, and Liz even let me stay at her place the night before to cut down on the drive time. We drove around together, talked about our plans, our work and hit the beach. We laid talking about our lives, and I decided to let it out.

"I'm a single Mom". Pretty simple statement, right? It was so loaded with emotion and anxiety I thought I was going to puke. The words hung on the salty air for what felt like forever before I got a response I really didn't expect.

"Interesting."

Ummm... not what I was expecting. I was ready for "Oh, that's too much for me" or "That's OK". "Interesting", not so much.

"Yeah... he's two and a half. His name's Finley..." I laid on my towel feeling even more like I was going to puke.

"Did you marry the guy?"

 And there you had it.... it was all out in the open, and we'd only gotten ninety minutes into our day. Unfortunately, it kind of ruined the day. Our day wrapped up with the most awkward goodbye kiss of the century. We met for breakfast at a cafe up the road a week later, and again the following week. On the third "date" he asked me to accompany him to a party he was going to in a neighbouring community. I declined. He then asked where I saw things going, and I had to be honest... I didn't. All because of his reaction to my being a mom. That awkward kiss. *Sigh*

Am I dating now because I want a relationship? Do I want a relationship? I don't know. I survived the last eight months as a single mom and I've even been happy. Happy and alone? I can do that? Maybe I should just dial it down a little bit. Stand still for a while. I don't need to wear a pedometer and take X number of steps every day. I can just be, at least for a little while. 

Maybe instead of trying to walk into some one else's path, I'll let someone walk into mine.

Dating, for Two!

WARNING: THIS POST HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING (REALLY) TO DO WITH FOOD.

A far better writer and way cooler Mom than me (Cat Poland - check her out at http://momontherange.com/) recently pointed out that one of the things she missed about being pregnant was the food. I'm with her there, sometimes!

I have always, always, ALWAYS worried about my weight - and mostly for no good reason. I've never been overweight, and while my weight has fluctuated to a top of 157 and to under 100 pounds in my adult life, I've almost always been generally healthy. Like most first time moms living in the age of stick-thin actresses, thinspo and eating disorders, I put an inordinate amount of pressure on myself to stay thin throughout my pregnancy. (What a joke - and I didn't stay thin. I stayed healthy.)

Somewhere around month seven when I actually started to look pregnant - prior to that no one really believed my little bump was anything more than a big lunch - people started throwing the "Oh, here... you're eating for two, now!" comments out as they scooped a second helping of whatever was being served onto my plate. So, for the first time in my life, I shamelessly stuffed my face with whatever was handy. I kept this up throughout breastfeeding, throughout most of my life as a Mom to be honest.

Since I got pregnant, I've spent a lot of time "doing" for two - I've shopped for two, thought for two, planned for two, Lord knows I've eaten for two (even when I should have only been eating for one), bathed for two, cried for two... the list is really pretty endless. Lately, I've been dating for two.

I recently joked to my Mom about my (very real) fear that I'll be alone forever and she fired back a comment that has really made me think: "Maybe if you weren't so damn picky, you wouldn't be alone".

Shit. She's right. (Mom, if you're reading this... Well, there you have it. I said it. YOU'RE RIGHT. First time for everything.... Ha!)

I am picky. I think it's great, mainly because there was a time when I really wasn't picky enough. A younger me was easily swayed by well-versed flattery, and flash of a smile and toned biceps. If he was smart that was a bonus, if not... oh well. Did we get along? Well, as long as we did part of the time. Would he be a good dad? Pfft, who cares. Hit that bridge when we get there.

All of those nonchalant ideas of dating went out the window when I became a single mom. It took over two years of motherhood for me to truly be a single mom - in that I was no longer "officially" in a relationship. For all intentive purposes, as I once had pointed out by my amazing best friend, I've always been a single mom. But I digress.

Dating. It sucks. Doing it as a single mom? WHOOOOOOLE different ballgame.

The first big question is how the guy will react to knowing I'm a single mom. Some are good about it, some are weird about it, some make me want to take them and shake the stupid out of them.

I'm a single mom, but I'm still a person boys!

Maybe it's because my past dating practices were so pathetic and poorly worked out, I just didn't realize how difficult dating as a single mom was going to be. I pick guys apart now... just read #DatingFail for proof of that one, even if he did kind of deserve it. A LOT.

Even though I'm not looking to fill the position of Dad for Finley, the fact is that any guy I seriously date is going to be a part of Finley's life, and that is not something I'm taking lightly. If he drinks too much, he's out. If he swears too much, he's out. I've set my standards maybe a little bit too high, but I'm sure there's gotta be someone out there who fits the bill (other than my Dad).

So, future man of my dreams, take note:


I work out.

I am picky.

I like healthy foods that are made with love and shared over laughter and happiness. I like wine, but I don't think much of drinking to excess. I like Twilight - get over it. I would love to go to school at Hogwarts. I don't give a flip-flying-fuck what kind of car you drive, as long as you drive it sober, safely and you didn't steal it. Please cut your hair, pick up your socks and don't ever call me crazy, or woman or especially, crazy woman. It won't be pretty.

Don't lie to me. Don't lie to my parents. You must be willing to laugh at me, dance with me, walk with me and love the little things. I don't care how much money you make, but please have a job. That would be nice.

Don't try to be Finley's Dad, but don't be afraid to fall in love with him too. He's way cooler than I am, anyway. Loving cars, trucks, trains, planes and all manner of things that drive is not required, but it will probably help your case with him. You should probably also like dogs, and not have too many pairs of shoes. There's only so much closet space in this world, and I don't know if I can possibly love you enough to share... but I'll try.

If you need to be inspired as to why to love me... the photo should do the trick.



#DatingFail

Today's rant post is inspired by an interesting experience I had yesterday.

A popular country song lyric comes to mind:

"Call me old-fashioned, call me out of touch".

 

Apparently, I am either old fashioned, out of touch, completely unaware of modern dating practices or all of the above. Or I just experiened the biggest dating fail of my life.

 

   From here on out, I'll be referring to my date as B. B is very handsome, and I was a little nervous/excited. Ultimately, it was pretty lacklustre and has made me question whether or not I even want to date. Vibrators were invented for a reason, folks!

    I don't really know where exactly to begin. Firstly, I've always felt that if someone really wanted to take me out that they would pick up the phone and do that thing phones were invented for - calling. Remember that? Where you hold it up to the side of your face and speak into it? That.

     B texted me. A week ago. I have known B for just over two years - we studied together, and while we were in different classes, we ran into eachother around campus a lot and he was always very friendly. I had a boyfriend (who became fiance - at B's party - who then became husband who is now ex), he had a girlfriend (who is now ex). We often exchanged friendly texts over the past several months, but the "I was wondering if you'd be interested in having dinner sometime. Like, a date" text kind of threw me for a loop.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in that my number is long-distance for him to call.

    Next on the agenda: Chivalry. Generally speaking, man picks up woman for date. Being a modern woman who lives in the country and he being a man with no car living in the city (public transit and the opportunity to walk - how I miss thee), I drove the 90-minute drive in for our "date" for a few reasons: the first being that all manner of entertainment (restaurants, movies, parks etc.) can be found in the city. The second being that the plan was meant to be dinner and a movie. The third being that I never, ever get to go out solo - single mom out on the town is pretty exciting.

   I arrived at his house and he invited me in to give me a tour. It was beautiful. His roommate is a recently-single 31-year-old who decided to offput his bills by bringing in some renters. He's also incredibly handsome and probably would have actually had a plan in place if he was taking a girl on a date. Post-tour of the house, B went and sat on the couch and turned on the TV. I stood awkwardly, and he motioned for me to sit with him.

   "So, what do you want to do today then?" were the next words out of his mouth. I sat there like a total idiot staring at him. REALLY? I did a quick recap of what I had obviously mistakenly thought we had agreed upon... early dinner and early show at the movies so I could be off the road before it was too late - I did drive 90 minutes, people. He then said he wasn't really hungry, and suggested we watch Dodgeball. *Sigh*

    At the end of the movie, he decided that he was hungry, so we went for dinner. It was past 5:00, and the movie began at 6:30, so there was really no way that was going to workout. We went to a restaurant and I thoroughly enjoyed the food, the conversation and the atmosphere. To kill a bit of time and walk off the wine and pasta from the meal, we walked around the mall and caught up on all that had happened since we were studying together.

   Then he suggested we skip the late movie - it started at 9:00 - to go back to his place, after stopping at the liquour store to pick up a bottle of wine. When I politely declined on the wine, he looked at me like a crazy person. "I have to drive home tonight," I explained, and he looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're driving home tonight? You know, you could have stayed over. I cleaned my room for you!"

WHAT? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

    He then laughed and made like it was all a joke, and I awkwardly laughed it off too. Since it was still early, when I drove him back to his place, I agreed to come in and watch the Big Bang Theory - I do love Sheldon and Leonard. Instead, we wound up watching 21 Jump Street and I drooled over Channing Tatum and then, all of a sudden, he leaned in and kissed me. It started out like the standard cute, first kiss. Then it turned into the type of makeout session that you had in high school only with one thing missing: a spark. He stood up a few minutes post-makeout and explained that he would "behave himself" on the first date, but "look out on the second date". Ugh, please.

    A few minutes later I invented a reason to duck out and explained that I really needed to get home. He then asked me to drive him to a bar to meet up with his roommate and his roommate's friends. Um, OK. When I dropped him off, after he had gone upstairs and changed, he told me how much he'd enjoyed the evening and that I "had to" let him know when I was in the city again. I thanked him, wished him a good night and drove away.

Do I really want to date? I mean, really want to date?

   In his defense, aside from the fact that the whole night seemed more like what I would have enjoyed with a boyfriend I had in high school, I enjoyed his company. But I also got the sense that he was trying to replace his ex-girlfriend with me through little hints, and the general playing-out of the night. That was bad enough. The deal breaker? He really expected that I was going to stay, that we were going to have sex, and I think ultimately, that we are going to have a serious relationship.

   Once upon a time, I might have stayed. I'm no prude - I've slept over on the first date before, but nothing good ever comes of a relationship that begins that way and I had to learn it the hard way. I have realized, however, that in the few dates I have gone on since John and I split up that every guy expected me to sleep with him right off the bat - and that genuinely pisses me off.

   Yes, I am a young single mother. No, I'm not a slut. I married my son's father - things didn't work out. Don't assume that I entered into motherhood because of a drunken night with some guy I barely knew. Don't assume that, just because I've accepted a date with you, that I want you to be Finn's dad or my new protector. I don't need that, and neither does Finn.

Dating Fail. *Sigh* Better luck next time, maybe?