The list of red flags was long enough to turn into a scary bedtime story. But he was my age, cute, sort of funny in a “mock you because I like you” third-grader kind of way, and had a decent job, so I kept giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Silly me.
I had met him online. At the end of our third date, he “fake” kissed me. Yes, you read that right.
We were saying good night after a long evening of good conversation and dessert. We hugged, then he leaned in, tilting his head and everything. I responded appropriately, and then he abruptly backed away, laughing. I was in shock. Not even as a pre-teen had anything like that happened to me.
I got in my car, pretty determined not to give him the chance to do that again. He then positioned himself next to me, making it impossible for me to close the door, and amidst his boy-like giggles and “I was just kidding” claims, I fell like a moron for his charm — which I’m certain he learned in junior high and never grew out of — and I gave him a second chance at a kiss.
So he leaned in once more, and then backed away. Again. This time, I literally shoved him away from my car, slammed my door shut, and sped off into the lovely September night.
Here’s the thing about dating as a single mom (and maybe dating in general, I’m not really sure — I never really dated in my 20s as people seem to do in romantic comedies and sitcoms): It is exhausting, and in that exhaustion, you start to think and believe some fairly crazy things.
On that drive home, I should’ve been cursing his name. I should have been calling up my girlfriends to tell them this unbelievable story. I should’ve been laughing at this guy for thinking he could pull off such an immature move on a woman with a child and a home and an adult life.
But I wasn’t. I was telling myself that it was all hopeless. I was convincing myself that it was my fault for not having more time to give, more energy to give, more of me to give. I was dreading the next first date I was going to have, and wondering how I could possibly survive another interview-like process.
For those reasons, and probably a bunch of other reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain, I continued chatting with him and eventually agreed to see him one more time. I was naively hopeful that he would apologize for his rude and offensive behavior.
Instead, he excused his actions by explaining to me in his best grown-up voice that kissing, to him, is a big deal — in that moment in the parking lot of the Cheesecake Factory, something kept him from making that “leap.” That something was a 6-year-old with my goofy grin, whom he had never met but had heard about from me since day one of chatting.
“I just don’t know if I’m OK with the fact that you have a kid,” he said with the typical puppy-dog eyes you’d expect from a man-child like him. “And since I’m not sure, it’s probably best we don’t go any further. But we can still be friends!”
This was a man who had a rocky past, loads of emotional baggage, and one of those personalities that would’ve required me to warn my friends about ahead of time, telling them, “Give it time, he’ll grow on you.” But I was the one with the deal-breaker kid.
On that drive home, I finally did what I should’ve done after the fake-kiss incident: I called my girlfriends to tell them my crazy story, and we mocked his pathetic attempt at maturity, and I removed his name from my phone.
That’s my worst dating story, but the others aren’t good. Really, at best, I get to enjoy a cup of coffee.
Making it to the date in the first place is no easy feat either. If you’ve never entered the world of online dating, let me be the first to tell you it’s nearly as creepy as you think it is. However, much like buying a pair of shoes online, it’s all about your approach. You can either be looking for something incredibly specific and will likely never find, or you can seek out a general range of qualities and suddenly everything starts to look the same or boring.
I have little rules that have helped steer me clear of the really awful ones. For example, I never respond to a guy who messages me with, simply, “Hi.” I need more effort, and there’s likely a reason he’s not putting any into this. I also tend to stick with a step-by-step process: a bit of messaging through the dating service first, then exchange phone numbers for texting — which, we have to remember for safety’s sake these days, means he’ll now know my first and last name and be able to find me on various social media accounts because our phone numbers are often connected to our logins; this is one of the reasons I’ve gone “friends only” on many social accounts. If we pass the texting test without getting stuck in a strange land of exchanging mundane daily happenings (this has happened to me more times than I can count, and it often just peters out), we can talk on the phone and/or meet for coffee during the day. If that goes well, we get to plan a date.
There are a few silver linings to being a single mom, but I don’t think dating — especially like this — is one of them.
For me, there aren’t a whole lot of options other than online dating. I live in an area of Orange County where there are a lot of families, and I’m often with my son. Short of wearing a sign that says “It’s OK, I’m single,” how exactly are eligible men able to tell the difference between me and any other happily married mom in Target? Friends have suggested hobbies, exercise, meetup groups and the like. I’ve tried one or two, but often it comes down to how much I want to divvy up my time.
I was in a relationship for about four years, beginning when my son was 1 year old. Spending time with a live-in boyfriend was easier because my son could be there, too. Sure, date nights and alone time were important, but not required.
Whereas with dating, I have to specifically choose a night when I won’t have my son, which is usually about once a week. That means I can’t use that time for myself, or to go out and do something kid-free with my friends. To be honest, it’s kind of a no-brainer when I compare staying home and reading a good book in the bath, or seeing a movie and getting ice cream with a good friend, to going on another awkward first date with some random guy who maybe-sorta-kinda looks cute in his profile picture.
Therein lies the conundrum. It seems fairly obvious that I’m not going to be able to start another relationship until I’ve begun to date someone, but I haven’t made it past the third date with anyone in more than a year.
The ultimate goal in this situation is to find someone to share my life with, and in theory that shouldn’t be so hard.
Day in and day out, I run my life on routine and schedules. Most moms do, single moms must. Co-parenting with my son’s father makes things much easier, but it still requires a lot of coordinating and timing. We get things done, though. We move at a fast pace and take breaks when we need them, and we are basically a well-oiled machine.
Dating is like adding a new type of M&M’s to the lineup. Plain and Peanut are completely acceptable. Then, remember in the early ’90s when they introduced the Peanut Butter ones, and it was as if the idea had come from angels in heaven above? Sometimes making room in your factory for a new product is so worth it.
And sometimes it’s like Dulce de Leche. Or Coconut. Or Carrot Cake. Or any of the other varieties of M&M’s legitimately tried and failed. No matter how much or how little time you give it, it just isn’t going to work, and now you have to recalibrate your machines to make sure the Plain and Peanut aren’t all out of whack.
On the quest for a good new flavor, the road seems long, and the taste tests can be pretty terrible. Still, I stay grateful for the flavors I’ve got. That’s really the only thing you can do when you’re in the big bad single mom-dating world: be thankful. Thankful that your life doesn’t revolve around finding that perfect date or perfect guy. Happy distractions like baseball practice and Tooth Fairy duties and making sure the child is fed and cleaned and isn’t wiping his nose on my sleeve help to pull me out of any scary thoughts of hopelessness.
And when my boy spontaneously hops over to me, gives me a hug and tells me he loves me, my heart warms up in a way only moms can understand. And I know there’s no shortage of love in there.
