Mystery Date, single mom edition....

It has been roughly 6 months since my divorce drama began. A lot has transpired. I have a new job and am starting graduate school. I have moved back to my home town to be with my family and now I endeavor into the world a new person. Well, the same old person, just a new outlook on life.

And it is here, at this 6 month mark that I begin to start thinking about men. Right, so I always think about men, specifically Ryan. But I begin to think about men in a more tangible way…like about dating them. I’m not shy, this may be obvious. And before I was married, dating and asking men out never seemed too difficult for me. But now as a mother and a divorcee, the world of dating seems like a trek to Antarctica with a blind pack mule and a GPS that speaks only in Esperanto.

This is not a hot pick up line: “Hi, I’m Melissa. I have a baby and an angry ex-husband that I may or may not get into a million text fights with a day. I have zero free time, and when I do have free time I’m usually peeing in silence. Oh yeah, and I’m a needy Cancer who likes Real Housewives and vodka.”

The way I see it, one of two things can happen after any variation of this information is given. 1) The guy looks at you horrified. He makes some excuse to look at his phone, then immediately exclaims that his friend’s dog walker’s son’s dentist fell and he needs to go help. 2) He is undeterred...in fact more interested than he was to begin with and you realize all he wants is something unwholesome. And that’s fine…maybe all you want is something unwholesome…you slut. But let’s face it, you are a total mess and not really capable of having a relationship yet…

But what happens when you do what something wholesome? And when is it right to want something wholesome again? When does one pass that threshold where it’s no longer whorish to consort with men? I have no answers to these questions. I’m convinced I will never date again…my one and only recent attempt at garnering flirtations from the opposite sex left me feeling like the worst mom ever…that somehow, the act of giving some dude my number would actually directly destroy my son’s life.

Now I know why Facebook has the option of “It’s Complicated.” Because “Single mom with baggage, yet a desperate desire for attention from the opposite sex” is too long.

Someone save me from myself…or better yet, save that poor guy I gave my number to. I think he thinks I’m normal.

Love, mama ...b isn’t allowed to participate in this conversation.