A lesson in love

by mssinglemama on October 12, 2011

Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, recipe but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, seek hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumped, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

I wonder what it must feel like
The radio booth smelled like old men and dusty records but I liked it anyway.

When Glenn Miller came on I would start dancing by myself. Dinner in the diner, abortion buy more about nothing could be finer. How can you not dance to Chattanooga Choo Choo?

My Dad had introduced me to The Glenn Miller Band years earlier.

We were cleaning the living room when he popped in his Glenn Miller CD and then told me to drop the broom and “dance with me!” Dancing with him for those few songs, about it him leading me, trying to teach his high-strung teenage daughter to loosen up is one of those memories I will always keep, the kind no one can take away.

He was always making those kinds of memories for me – teaching me how to live life, to have fun, to enjoy the little things.

Dancing alone in the radio booth, another little fun thing, kept me awake.

I was working the Saturday morning shift, it was my first radio job and a chance to hopefully land a shift in the daylight hours. But for now I was stuck in the darkness – alone and nervous. Whenever I’d turn the microphone on I’d get chills, up my arms, down my neck and sometimes in my throat. The nerves were so intense I would occasionally bumble my words or, even worse,  freeze up entirely.

Between newscasts and nerve sessions I would imagine who had sat in the seat before me, another girl perhaps or maybe a young man who was now old.

They had all warmed the same black bar stool chair with the awkward swiveling motion, they had all pressed their lips up to the microphone and they had all seen that light flick to red -“On Air” – before letting the words fly from their mouth.

If they could do it. I can do it.

I said the same thing when I learned how to drive and then when I learned how to drive a stick four years later.

I had bought the car for myself with a loan co-signed by my father. He had been diagnosed with cancer five months earlier and would be gone in one month.

“I can’t figure it out,” I told him on day, on the brink of tears.

I was so impatient, so headstrong and so determined to learn the stick shift but I kept stalling. My father was standing with me in the kitchen, resting his arm onto the counter for support. He was so light now, so skinny. He had aged 30 years it seemed in just weeks.

“Let’s go,” he said, “I’ll teach you.”

“But Dad, what if…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, so I thought it – what if you puke. He had been so sick. That’s the thing about cancer – it just gets worse as it eats you alive and in my dad’s case it was eating just about ever organ he had.

“Just go, c’mon,” his voice was stern.

So we went.

Out to the car.

He squeezed his long legs, the legs of a man who towered above most, into the back seat of my two-door Nissan Sentra.

“I don’t want you to remember me this way,” he told me between lurches.

“I won’t, Dad, I promise.”

The car jolted forward, or was it backward? Over and over.

I just couldn’t keep the damn clutch from going out. Dad was trying his best to explain, to smile but in the end we had to lurch back home so he could get out of that seat and into the bathroom.

I wouldn’t learn stick that day. It would come to me weeks later but my Dad wasn’t there. By that point he was bound to a wheel chair, unable to leave the house and definitely unable to ride in my back seat.

When you know someone is going to die, when you know they won’t be around for much longer you try to think of things to say, things you may hear in a movie or something but the words don’t come as easily as you think.

“I had a good life,” he would say, “I did. I had a beautiful wife, six beautiful children and I loved my job. At least I had everything I ever wanted.”

But he was pissed.

You could see it in his eyes. He was a physician himself and he knew his cancer was the worst kind of cancer. He knew there was no hope, he knew he was going to die and he was pissed that he had to leave us.

That he couldn’t see his children grow up or live out his life with his wife.

He wanted to stay.

When I would hear him telling my mother that the chemo would be a “waste of time” I would try to say things I thought would motivate him to will himself better.

“Dad, please, don’t you want to see me get married some day? Don’t you want to walk me down the aisle?”

I forgive myself now for saying that only because I was a kid, but it still haunts me.

Of course he wanted that, he wanted that more than anything. Words can’t turn some things around. Some things – like adenocarcinoma and three brain tumors – are unstoppable.

—-

I flicked on the microphone for the 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning newscast. But this time was different. There would be no errant chills in my throat because when I looked up, he was there.

My father had taken a detour on the way home from his overnight shift at the Emergency Room to watch me give a live newscast. He had volunteered to come, wanting to see his “daughter on the radio.”

I glanced up between stories and I could see his face through the small tiny glass window of the thick padded door – he was smiling, from ear to ear.

Kind of like he is in this picture.

dad

—-

“Did you make someone smile today, Alaina?”

He asked me this often during my childhood.

“I think so,” I’d say.

“Did you know that when you make someone smile, just once, they’ll be a little bit happier and then they’ll make someone else smile. So for every person you make smile you could make dozens or even hundreds of other people smile.”

I think that was his secret, smiling and making other people smile.

—–
When that awesome story appeared in the Columbus Dispatch this Sunday a lot of you read it, including an old college friend who promptly sent me some photos he’d stumbled upon recently, “profile photos of a great Doctor, and a great man,” he wrote in the e-mail, “one who saved my life a few years earlier when I had a severe allergic reaction to penicillin. I wanted you to have them, as well as the knowledge of how much he garnered my respect and adoration.”

It would have been my father’s 61st birthday this week.

And today, he would want each and every one of you to make someone else smile.
The radio booth smelled like old men and dusty records but I liked it anyway.

When Glenn Miller came on I would start dancing by myself. Dinner in the diner, abortion buy more about nothing could be finer. How can you not dance to Chattanooga Choo Choo?

My Dad had introduced me to The Glenn Miller Band years earlier.

We were cleaning the living room when he popped in his Glenn Miller CD and then told me to drop the broom and “dance with me!” Dancing with him for those few songs, about it him leading me, trying to teach his high-strung teenage daughter to loosen up is one of those memories I will always keep, the kind no one can take away.

He was always making those kinds of memories for me – teaching me how to live life, to have fun, to enjoy the little things.

Dancing alone in the radio booth, another little fun thing, kept me awake.

I was working the Saturday morning shift, it was my first radio job and a chance to hopefully land a shift in the daylight hours. But for now I was stuck in the darkness – alone and nervous. Whenever I’d turn the microphone on I’d get chills, up my arms, down my neck and sometimes in my throat. The nerves were so intense I would occasionally bumble my words or, even worse,  freeze up entirely.

Between newscasts and nerve sessions I would imagine who had sat in the seat before me, another girl perhaps or maybe a young man who was now old.

They had all warmed the same black bar stool chair with the awkward swiveling motion, they had all pressed their lips up to the microphone and they had all seen that light flick to red -“On Air” – before letting the words fly from their mouth.

If they could do it. I can do it.

I said the same thing when I learned how to drive and then when I learned how to drive a stick four years later.

I had bought the car for myself with a loan co-signed by my father. He had been diagnosed with cancer five months earlier and would be gone in one month.

“I can’t figure it out,” I told him on day, on the brink of tears.

I was so impatient, so headstrong and so determined to learn the stick shift but I kept stalling. My father was standing with me in the kitchen, resting his arm onto the counter for support. He was so light now, so skinny. He had aged 30 years it seemed in just weeks.

“Let’s go,” he said, “I’ll teach you.”

“But Dad, what if…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, so I thought it – what if you puke. He had been so sick. That’s the thing about cancer – it just gets worse as it eats you alive and in my dad’s case it was eating just about ever organ he had.

“Just go, c’mon,” his voice was stern.

So we went.

Out to the car.

He squeezed his long legs, the legs of a man who towered above most, into the back seat of my two-door Nissan Sentra.

“I don’t want you to remember me this way,” he told me between lurches.

“I won’t, Dad, I promise.”

The car jolted forward, or was it backward? Over and over.

I just couldn’t keep the damn clutch from going out. Dad was trying his best to explain, to smile but in the end we had to lurch back home so he could get out of that seat and into the bathroom.

I wouldn’t learn stick that day. It would come to me weeks later but my Dad wasn’t there. By that point he was bound to a wheel chair, unable to leave the house and definitely unable to ride in my back seat.

When you know someone is going to die, when you know they won’t be around for much longer you try to think of things to say, things you may hear in a movie or something but the words don’t come as easily as you think.

“I had a good life,” he would say, “I did. I had a beautiful wife, six beautiful children and I loved my job. At least I had everything I ever wanted.”

But he was pissed.

You could see it in his eyes. He was a physician himself and he knew his cancer was the worst kind of cancer. He knew there was no hope, he knew he was going to die and he was pissed that he had to leave us.

That he couldn’t see his children grow up or live out his life with his wife.

He wanted to stay.

When I would hear him telling my mother that the chemo would be a “waste of time” I would try to say things I thought would motivate him to will himself better.

“Dad, please, don’t you want to see me get married some day? Don’t you want to walk me down the aisle?”

I forgive myself now for saying that only because I was a kid, but it still haunts me.

Of course he wanted that, he wanted that more than anything. Words can’t turn some things around. Some things – like adenocarcinoma and three brain tumors – are unstoppable.

—-

I flicked on the microphone for the 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning newscast. But this time was different. There would be no errant chills in my throat because when I looked up, he was there.

My father had taken a detour on the way home from his overnight shift at the Emergency Room to watch me give a live newscast. He had volunteered to come, wanting to see his “daughter on the radio.”

I glanced up between stories and I could see his face through the small tiny glass window of the thick padded door – he was smiling, from ear to ear.

Kind of like he is in this picture.

dad

—-

“Did you make someone smile today, Alaina?”

He asked me this often during my childhood.

“I think so,” I’d say.

“Did you know that when you make someone smile, just once, they’ll be a little bit happier and then they’ll make someone else smile. So for every person you make smile you could make dozens or even hundreds of other people smile.”

I think that was his secret, smiling and making other people smile.

—–
When that awesome story appeared in the Columbus Dispatch this Sunday a lot of you read it, including an old college friend who promptly sent me some photos he’d stumbled upon recently, “profile photos of a great Doctor, and a great man,” he wrote in the e-mail, “one who saved my life a few years earlier when I had a severe allergic reaction to penicillin. I wanted you to have them, as well as the knowledge of how much he garnered my respect and adoration.”

It would have been my father’s 61st birthday this week.

And today, he would want each and every one of you to make someone else smile.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, sildenafil but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, story hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumped, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

I wonder what it must feel like to be that young and fearless.
The radio booth smelled like old men and dusty records but I liked it anyway.

When Glenn Miller came on I would start dancing by myself. Dinner in the diner, abortion buy more about nothing could be finer. How can you not dance to Chattanooga Choo Choo?

My Dad had introduced me to The Glenn Miller Band years earlier.

We were cleaning the living room when he popped in his Glenn Miller CD and then told me to drop the broom and “dance with me!” Dancing with him for those few songs, about it him leading me, trying to teach his high-strung teenage daughter to loosen up is one of those memories I will always keep, the kind no one can take away.

He was always making those kinds of memories for me – teaching me how to live life, to have fun, to enjoy the little things.

Dancing alone in the radio booth, another little fun thing, kept me awake.

I was working the Saturday morning shift, it was my first radio job and a chance to hopefully land a shift in the daylight hours. But for now I was stuck in the darkness – alone and nervous. Whenever I’d turn the microphone on I’d get chills, up my arms, down my neck and sometimes in my throat. The nerves were so intense I would occasionally bumble my words or, even worse,  freeze up entirely.

Between newscasts and nerve sessions I would imagine who had sat in the seat before me, another girl perhaps or maybe a young man who was now old.

They had all warmed the same black bar stool chair with the awkward swiveling motion, they had all pressed their lips up to the microphone and they had all seen that light flick to red -“On Air” – before letting the words fly from their mouth.

If they could do it. I can do it.

I said the same thing when I learned how to drive and then when I learned how to drive a stick four years later.

I had bought the car for myself with a loan co-signed by my father. He had been diagnosed with cancer five months earlier and would be gone in one month.

“I can’t figure it out,” I told him on day, on the brink of tears.

I was so impatient, so headstrong and so determined to learn the stick shift but I kept stalling. My father was standing with me in the kitchen, resting his arm onto the counter for support. He was so light now, so skinny. He had aged 30 years it seemed in just weeks.

“Let’s go,” he said, “I’ll teach you.”

“But Dad, what if…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, so I thought it – what if you puke. He had been so sick. That’s the thing about cancer – it just gets worse as it eats you alive and in my dad’s case it was eating just about ever organ he had.

“Just go, c’mon,” his voice was stern.

So we went.

Out to the car.

He squeezed his long legs, the legs of a man who towered above most, into the back seat of my two-door Nissan Sentra.

“I don’t want you to remember me this way,” he told me between lurches.

“I won’t, Dad, I promise.”

The car jolted forward, or was it backward? Over and over.

I just couldn’t keep the damn clutch from going out. Dad was trying his best to explain, to smile but in the end we had to lurch back home so he could get out of that seat and into the bathroom.

I wouldn’t learn stick that day. It would come to me weeks later but my Dad wasn’t there. By that point he was bound to a wheel chair, unable to leave the house and definitely unable to ride in my back seat.

When you know someone is going to die, when you know they won’t be around for much longer you try to think of things to say, things you may hear in a movie or something but the words don’t come as easily as you think.

“I had a good life,” he would say, “I did. I had a beautiful wife, six beautiful children and I loved my job. At least I had everything I ever wanted.”

But he was pissed.

You could see it in his eyes. He was a physician himself and he knew his cancer was the worst kind of cancer. He knew there was no hope, he knew he was going to die and he was pissed that he had to leave us.

That he couldn’t see his children grow up or live out his life with his wife.

He wanted to stay.

When I would hear him telling my mother that the chemo would be a “waste of time” I would try to say things I thought would motivate him to will himself better.

“Dad, please, don’t you want to see me get married some day? Don’t you want to walk me down the aisle?”

I forgive myself now for saying that only because I was a kid, but it still haunts me.

Of course he wanted that, he wanted that more than anything. Words can’t turn some things around. Some things – like adenocarcinoma and three brain tumors – are unstoppable.

—-

I flicked on the microphone for the 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning newscast. But this time was different. There would be no errant chills in my throat because when I looked up, he was there.

My father had taken a detour on the way home from his overnight shift at the Emergency Room to watch me give a live newscast. He had volunteered to come, wanting to see his “daughter on the radio.”

I glanced up between stories and I could see his face through the small tiny glass window of the thick padded door – he was smiling, from ear to ear.

Kind of like he is in this picture.

dad

—-

“Did you make someone smile today, Alaina?”

He asked me this often during my childhood.

“I think so,” I’d say.

“Did you know that when you make someone smile, just once, they’ll be a little bit happier and then they’ll make someone else smile. So for every person you make smile you could make dozens or even hundreds of other people smile.”

I think that was his secret, smiling and making other people smile.

—–
When that awesome story appeared in the Columbus Dispatch this Sunday a lot of you read it, including an old college friend who promptly sent me some photos he’d stumbled upon recently, “profile photos of a great Doctor, and a great man,” he wrote in the e-mail, “one who saved my life a few years earlier when I had a severe allergic reaction to penicillin. I wanted you to have them, as well as the knowledge of how much he garnered my respect and adoration.”

It would have been my father’s 61st birthday this week.

And today, he would want each and every one of you to make someone else smile.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, sildenafil but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, story hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumped, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

I wonder what it must feel like to be that young and fearless.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, drug but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, hospital hates, buy hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumps, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

The day has me thinking about fear and how completely freeing it is to be fearless. I mean really, what is the difference between a five year old and yourself? The experience, the hurt, the pain you’ve lived through. Imagine if you could eliminate that baggage? Could you learn to love again? Can we ever really fall in love again? Like we did before becoming single moms? I think we can.

We just have to step off that plank and trust that the rope will break our fall.
The radio booth smelled like old men and dusty records but I liked it anyway.

When Glenn Miller came on I would start dancing by myself. Dinner in the diner, abortion buy more about nothing could be finer. How can you not dance to Chattanooga Choo Choo?

My Dad had introduced me to The Glenn Miller Band years earlier.

We were cleaning the living room when he popped in his Glenn Miller CD and then told me to drop the broom and “dance with me!” Dancing with him for those few songs, about it him leading me, trying to teach his high-strung teenage daughter to loosen up is one of those memories I will always keep, the kind no one can take away.

He was always making those kinds of memories for me – teaching me how to live life, to have fun, to enjoy the little things.

Dancing alone in the radio booth, another little fun thing, kept me awake.

I was working the Saturday morning shift, it was my first radio job and a chance to hopefully land a shift in the daylight hours. But for now I was stuck in the darkness – alone and nervous. Whenever I’d turn the microphone on I’d get chills, up my arms, down my neck and sometimes in my throat. The nerves were so intense I would occasionally bumble my words or, even worse,  freeze up entirely.

Between newscasts and nerve sessions I would imagine who had sat in the seat before me, another girl perhaps or maybe a young man who was now old.

They had all warmed the same black bar stool chair with the awkward swiveling motion, they had all pressed their lips up to the microphone and they had all seen that light flick to red -“On Air” – before letting the words fly from their mouth.

If they could do it. I can do it.

I said the same thing when I learned how to drive and then when I learned how to drive a stick four years later.

I had bought the car for myself with a loan co-signed by my father. He had been diagnosed with cancer five months earlier and would be gone in one month.

“I can’t figure it out,” I told him on day, on the brink of tears.

I was so impatient, so headstrong and so determined to learn the stick shift but I kept stalling. My father was standing with me in the kitchen, resting his arm onto the counter for support. He was so light now, so skinny. He had aged 30 years it seemed in just weeks.

“Let’s go,” he said, “I’ll teach you.”

“But Dad, what if…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, so I thought it – what if you puke. He had been so sick. That’s the thing about cancer – it just gets worse as it eats you alive and in my dad’s case it was eating just about ever organ he had.

“Just go, c’mon,” his voice was stern.

So we went.

Out to the car.

He squeezed his long legs, the legs of a man who towered above most, into the back seat of my two-door Nissan Sentra.

“I don’t want you to remember me this way,” he told me between lurches.

“I won’t, Dad, I promise.”

The car jolted forward, or was it backward? Over and over.

I just couldn’t keep the damn clutch from going out. Dad was trying his best to explain, to smile but in the end we had to lurch back home so he could get out of that seat and into the bathroom.

I wouldn’t learn stick that day. It would come to me weeks later but my Dad wasn’t there. By that point he was bound to a wheel chair, unable to leave the house and definitely unable to ride in my back seat.

When you know someone is going to die, when you know they won’t be around for much longer you try to think of things to say, things you may hear in a movie or something but the words don’t come as easily as you think.

“I had a good life,” he would say, “I did. I had a beautiful wife, six beautiful children and I loved my job. At least I had everything I ever wanted.”

But he was pissed.

You could see it in his eyes. He was a physician himself and he knew his cancer was the worst kind of cancer. He knew there was no hope, he knew he was going to die and he was pissed that he had to leave us.

That he couldn’t see his children grow up or live out his life with his wife.

He wanted to stay.

When I would hear him telling my mother that the chemo would be a “waste of time” I would try to say things I thought would motivate him to will himself better.

“Dad, please, don’t you want to see me get married some day? Don’t you want to walk me down the aisle?”

I forgive myself now for saying that only because I was a kid, but it still haunts me.

Of course he wanted that, he wanted that more than anything. Words can’t turn some things around. Some things – like adenocarcinoma and three brain tumors – are unstoppable.

—-

I flicked on the microphone for the 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning newscast. But this time was different. There would be no errant chills in my throat because when I looked up, he was there.

My father had taken a detour on the way home from his overnight shift at the Emergency Room to watch me give a live newscast. He had volunteered to come, wanting to see his “daughter on the radio.”

I glanced up between stories and I could see his face through the small tiny glass window of the thick padded door – he was smiling, from ear to ear.

Kind of like he is in this picture.

dad

—-

“Did you make someone smile today, Alaina?”

He asked me this often during my childhood.

“I think so,” I’d say.

“Did you know that when you make someone smile, just once, they’ll be a little bit happier and then they’ll make someone else smile. So for every person you make smile you could make dozens or even hundreds of other people smile.”

I think that was his secret, smiling and making other people smile.

—–
When that awesome story appeared in the Columbus Dispatch this Sunday a lot of you read it, including an old college friend who promptly sent me some photos he’d stumbled upon recently, “profile photos of a great Doctor, and a great man,” he wrote in the e-mail, “one who saved my life a few years earlier when I had a severe allergic reaction to penicillin. I wanted you to have them, as well as the knowledge of how much he garnered my respect and adoration.”

It would have been my father’s 61st birthday this week.

And today, he would want each and every one of you to make someone else smile.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, sildenafil but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, story hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumped, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

I wonder what it must feel like to be that young and fearless.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, drug but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, hospital hates, buy hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumps, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

The day has me thinking about fear and how completely freeing it is to be fearless. I mean really, what is the difference between a five year old and yourself? The experience, the hurt, the pain you’ve lived through. Imagine if you could eliminate that baggage? Could you learn to love again? Can we ever really fall in love again? Like we did before becoming single moms? I think we can.

We just have to step off that plank and trust that the rope will break our fall.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, approved but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, adiposity hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumps, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

The day has me thinking about fear and how completely freeing it is to be fearless. I mean really, what is the difference between a five year old and yourself? The experience, the hurt, the pain you’ve lived through. Imagine if you could eliminate that baggage? Could you learn to love again? Can we ever really fall in love again? Like we did before becoming single moms? I think we can.

We just have to step off that plank and trust that the rope will break our fall.
The radio booth smelled like old men and dusty records but I liked it anyway.

When Glenn Miller came on I would start dancing by myself. Dinner in the diner, abortion buy more about nothing could be finer. How can you not dance to Chattanooga Choo Choo?

My Dad had introduced me to The Glenn Miller Band years earlier.

We were cleaning the living room when he popped in his Glenn Miller CD and then told me to drop the broom and “dance with me!” Dancing with him for those few songs, about it him leading me, trying to teach his high-strung teenage daughter to loosen up is one of those memories I will always keep, the kind no one can take away.

He was always making those kinds of memories for me – teaching me how to live life, to have fun, to enjoy the little things.

Dancing alone in the radio booth, another little fun thing, kept me awake.

I was working the Saturday morning shift, it was my first radio job and a chance to hopefully land a shift in the daylight hours. But for now I was stuck in the darkness – alone and nervous. Whenever I’d turn the microphone on I’d get chills, up my arms, down my neck and sometimes in my throat. The nerves were so intense I would occasionally bumble my words or, even worse,  freeze up entirely.

Between newscasts and nerve sessions I would imagine who had sat in the seat before me, another girl perhaps or maybe a young man who was now old.

They had all warmed the same black bar stool chair with the awkward swiveling motion, they had all pressed their lips up to the microphone and they had all seen that light flick to red -“On Air” – before letting the words fly from their mouth.

If they could do it. I can do it.

I said the same thing when I learned how to drive and then when I learned how to drive a stick four years later.

I had bought the car for myself with a loan co-signed by my father. He had been diagnosed with cancer five months earlier and would be gone in one month.

“I can’t figure it out,” I told him on day, on the brink of tears.

I was so impatient, so headstrong and so determined to learn the stick shift but I kept stalling. My father was standing with me in the kitchen, resting his arm onto the counter for support. He was so light now, so skinny. He had aged 30 years it seemed in just weeks.

“Let’s go,” he said, “I’ll teach you.”

“But Dad, what if…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, so I thought it – what if you puke. He had been so sick. That’s the thing about cancer – it just gets worse as it eats you alive and in my dad’s case it was eating just about ever organ he had.

“Just go, c’mon,” his voice was stern.

So we went.

Out to the car.

He squeezed his long legs, the legs of a man who towered above most, into the back seat of my two-door Nissan Sentra.

“I don’t want you to remember me this way,” he told me between lurches.

“I won’t, Dad, I promise.”

The car jolted forward, or was it backward? Over and over.

I just couldn’t keep the damn clutch from going out. Dad was trying his best to explain, to smile but in the end we had to lurch back home so he could get out of that seat and into the bathroom.

I wouldn’t learn stick that day. It would come to me weeks later but my Dad wasn’t there. By that point he was bound to a wheel chair, unable to leave the house and definitely unable to ride in my back seat.

When you know someone is going to die, when you know they won’t be around for much longer you try to think of things to say, things you may hear in a movie or something but the words don’t come as easily as you think.

“I had a good life,” he would say, “I did. I had a beautiful wife, six beautiful children and I loved my job. At least I had everything I ever wanted.”

But he was pissed.

You could see it in his eyes. He was a physician himself and he knew his cancer was the worst kind of cancer. He knew there was no hope, he knew he was going to die and he was pissed that he had to leave us.

That he couldn’t see his children grow up or live out his life with his wife.

He wanted to stay.

When I would hear him telling my mother that the chemo would be a “waste of time” I would try to say things I thought would motivate him to will himself better.

“Dad, please, don’t you want to see me get married some day? Don’t you want to walk me down the aisle?”

I forgive myself now for saying that only because I was a kid, but it still haunts me.

Of course he wanted that, he wanted that more than anything. Words can’t turn some things around. Some things – like adenocarcinoma and three brain tumors – are unstoppable.

—-

I flicked on the microphone for the 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning newscast. But this time was different. There would be no errant chills in my throat because when I looked up, he was there.

My father had taken a detour on the way home from his overnight shift at the Emergency Room to watch me give a live newscast. He had volunteered to come, wanting to see his “daughter on the radio.”

I glanced up between stories and I could see his face through the small tiny glass window of the thick padded door – he was smiling, from ear to ear.

Kind of like he is in this picture.

dad

—-

“Did you make someone smile today, Alaina?”

He asked me this often during my childhood.

“I think so,” I’d say.

“Did you know that when you make someone smile, just once, they’ll be a little bit happier and then they’ll make someone else smile. So for every person you make smile you could make dozens or even hundreds of other people smile.”

I think that was his secret, smiling and making other people smile.

—–
When that awesome story appeared in the Columbus Dispatch this Sunday a lot of you read it, including an old college friend who promptly sent me some photos he’d stumbled upon recently, “profile photos of a great Doctor, and a great man,” he wrote in the e-mail, “one who saved my life a few years earlier when I had a severe allergic reaction to penicillin. I wanted you to have them, as well as the knowledge of how much he garnered my respect and adoration.”

It would have been my father’s 61st birthday this week.

And today, he would want each and every one of you to make someone else smile.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, sildenafil but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, story hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumped, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

I wonder what it must feel like to be that young and fearless.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, drug but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, hospital hates, buy hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumps, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

The day has me thinking about fear and how completely freeing it is to be fearless. I mean really, what is the difference between a five year old and yourself? The experience, the hurt, the pain you’ve lived through. Imagine if you could eliminate that baggage? Could you learn to love again? Can we ever really fall in love again? Like we did before becoming single moms? I think we can.

We just have to step off that plank and trust that the rope will break our fall.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, approved but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, adiposity hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumps, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

The day has me thinking about fear and how completely freeing it is to be fearless. I mean really, what is the difference between a five year old and yourself? The experience, the hurt, the pain you’ve lived through. Imagine if you could eliminate that baggage? Could you learn to love again? Can we ever really fall in love again? Like we did before becoming single moms? I think we can.

We just have to step off that plank and trust that the rope will break our fall.
——-

Over the past four years on this blog you have all read along as I recovered from my divorce, and started dating again and then when I found my first post-divorce relationship.

I have written, healing with pride, sickness that I was content being single. I was proud because I had made it that far–that I had climbed that mountain and survived. I have shared my dating escapades with you, the good, the bad and the ugly. I have written about what I felt to be true love. I have also rationalized away feelings in my gut that things weren’t right by attesting that relationships didn’t need butterflies. I then tried to describe the complete heartbreak I felt when things fell apart on Christmas Eve. I also shared with you Benjamin’s pain and then his surprisingly quick recovery. He was happier without that relationship in his life, or in mine.

But I have never, ever written that I did not believe in love or in finding something like what my parents had.

Am I in love with love? Hell, yes I am. If you aren’t in love with love or the idea of finding love, will you ever have it? Love could pass you by entirely or you may never experience it. You may settle. You may be content with a relationship that just delivers the basics.

I know I could have eased you into the news in my last post, but I felt obligated to tell you as quickly as possible that YES you must have butterflies and that NO you should never, ever compromise. I wanted to tell you right away because I care about all of you more than you know. I know you take my advice and writings to heart and I wanted to post a correction of sorts. The correction being that you should never settle. And that goes for the men, too. Including John Bear, who I believe was settling in some way with us. I want him to feel what I am feeling now and am glad we both had the power to walk away from our relationship, as comfortable as it was.

I can’t say I’m not upset by some of the comments. I am.

The judgement is what bothers me the most and the questioning about my character and, in particular, my ability as a mother to make sure that my son always comes first. Another thing that bothers me is your lack in faith in my rationality right now is upsetting. I haven’t lost my mind, I’m not going to run off and marry him. I am going to enjoy him. I am going to enjoy us. Our children are going to meet at a huge Halloween party. And after that they may not see each other for another month. We are in no way shape or form even considering integrating our families yet. And even if we were, stop the judgment, please. That’s all I ask.

Your opinions are all valid and you are all right in your perspectives, regardless of whether or not I like hearing them –they are your opinions. And three weeks ago, I would have been right there with you… so I understand that entirely. But, please don’t judge. If you think I am making a mistake, let me make my own mistakes.

—–

My Mom and Dad used to blast this song from the car stereo with all of us hiding in embarrassment in the back seat. Now I am singing right along…

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The radio booth smelled like old men and dusty records but I liked it anyway.

When Glenn Miller came on I would start dancing by myself. Dinner in the diner, abortion buy more about nothing could be finer. How can you not dance to Chattanooga Choo Choo?

My Dad had introduced me to The Glenn Miller Band years earlier.

We were cleaning the living room when he popped in his Glenn Miller CD and then told me to drop the broom and “dance with me!” Dancing with him for those few songs, about it him leading me, trying to teach his high-strung teenage daughter to loosen up is one of those memories I will always keep, the kind no one can take away.

He was always making those kinds of memories for me – teaching me how to live life, to have fun, to enjoy the little things.

Dancing alone in the radio booth, another little fun thing, kept me awake.

I was working the Saturday morning shift, it was my first radio job and a chance to hopefully land a shift in the daylight hours. But for now I was stuck in the darkness – alone and nervous. Whenever I’d turn the microphone on I’d get chills, up my arms, down my neck and sometimes in my throat. The nerves were so intense I would occasionally bumble my words or, even worse,  freeze up entirely.

Between newscasts and nerve sessions I would imagine who had sat in the seat before me, another girl perhaps or maybe a young man who was now old.

They had all warmed the same black bar stool chair with the awkward swiveling motion, they had all pressed their lips up to the microphone and they had all seen that light flick to red -“On Air” – before letting the words fly from their mouth.

If they could do it. I can do it.

I said the same thing when I learned how to drive and then when I learned how to drive a stick four years later.

I had bought the car for myself with a loan co-signed by my father. He had been diagnosed with cancer five months earlier and would be gone in one month.

“I can’t figure it out,” I told him on day, on the brink of tears.

I was so impatient, so headstrong and so determined to learn the stick shift but I kept stalling. My father was standing with me in the kitchen, resting his arm onto the counter for support. He was so light now, so skinny. He had aged 30 years it seemed in just weeks.

“Let’s go,” he said, “I’ll teach you.”

“But Dad, what if…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, so I thought it – what if you puke. He had been so sick. That’s the thing about cancer – it just gets worse as it eats you alive and in my dad’s case it was eating just about ever organ he had.

“Just go, c’mon,” his voice was stern.

So we went.

Out to the car.

He squeezed his long legs, the legs of a man who towered above most, into the back seat of my two-door Nissan Sentra.

“I don’t want you to remember me this way,” he told me between lurches.

“I won’t, Dad, I promise.”

The car jolted forward, or was it backward? Over and over.

I just couldn’t keep the damn clutch from going out. Dad was trying his best to explain, to smile but in the end we had to lurch back home so he could get out of that seat and into the bathroom.

I wouldn’t learn stick that day. It would come to me weeks later but my Dad wasn’t there. By that point he was bound to a wheel chair, unable to leave the house and definitely unable to ride in my back seat.

When you know someone is going to die, when you know they won’t be around for much longer you try to think of things to say, things you may hear in a movie or something but the words don’t come as easily as you think.

“I had a good life,” he would say, “I did. I had a beautiful wife, six beautiful children and I loved my job. At least I had everything I ever wanted.”

But he was pissed.

You could see it in his eyes. He was a physician himself and he knew his cancer was the worst kind of cancer. He knew there was no hope, he knew he was going to die and he was pissed that he had to leave us.

That he couldn’t see his children grow up or live out his life with his wife.

He wanted to stay.

When I would hear him telling my mother that the chemo would be a “waste of time” I would try to say things I thought would motivate him to will himself better.

“Dad, please, don’t you want to see me get married some day? Don’t you want to walk me down the aisle?”

I forgive myself now for saying that only because I was a kid, but it still haunts me.

Of course he wanted that, he wanted that more than anything. Words can’t turn some things around. Some things – like adenocarcinoma and three brain tumors – are unstoppable.

—-

I flicked on the microphone for the 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning newscast. But this time was different. There would be no errant chills in my throat because when I looked up, he was there.

My father had taken a detour on the way home from his overnight shift at the Emergency Room to watch me give a live newscast. He had volunteered to come, wanting to see his “daughter on the radio.”

I glanced up between stories and I could see his face through the small tiny glass window of the thick padded door – he was smiling, from ear to ear.

Kind of like he is in this picture.

dad

—-

“Did you make someone smile today, Alaina?”

He asked me this often during my childhood.

“I think so,” I’d say.

“Did you know that when you make someone smile, just once, they’ll be a little bit happier and then they’ll make someone else smile. So for every person you make smile you could make dozens or even hundreds of other people smile.”

I think that was his secret, smiling and making other people smile.

—–
When that awesome story appeared in the Columbus Dispatch this Sunday a lot of you read it, including an old college friend who promptly sent me some photos he’d stumbled upon recently, “profile photos of a great Doctor, and a great man,” he wrote in the e-mail, “one who saved my life a few years earlier when I had a severe allergic reaction to penicillin. I wanted you to have them, as well as the knowledge of how much he garnered my respect and adoration.”

It would have been my father’s 61st birthday this week.

And today, he would want each and every one of you to make someone else smile.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, sildenafil but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, story hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumped, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

I wonder what it must feel like to be that young and fearless.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, drug but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, hospital hates, buy hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumps, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

The day has me thinking about fear and how completely freeing it is to be fearless. I mean really, what is the difference between a five year old and yourself? The experience, the hurt, the pain you’ve lived through. Imagine if you could eliminate that baggage? Could you learn to love again? Can we ever really fall in love again? Like we did before becoming single moms? I think we can.

We just have to step off that plank and trust that the rope will break our fall.
Benjamin and his bud Bert jump out of the car. We’ve pulled up to the most exciting place on Earth.

The Eagle Creek Leadership and Challenge Center to you and I, approved but to Benjamin and Bertie this is where Thomas and Calvin’s grandpa lives. Thomas and Calvin are quite possibly the cutest brothers you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

And when they talk it’s even better. Smart as whips. Sweet as sugar. And the woman largely responsible for their adorable little selves is one of my best single mama friends.

Elizabeth makes this shit look easy. And she hates, adiposity hates, hates having her picture taken. Justifiably so because pictures don’t truly capture her spirit or beauty– I doubt any camera could.

Calvin and Thomas’ grandfather, Tom, prefers the nickname O.G. (stands for Old Guy). Far from an old guy, O.G. has more energy at 62 than most twenty-something men I know.

That’s Bert on the donkey. Bert’s mother makes upcycled children’s clothing by hand. You won’t believe how beautiful her pieces are and you’ll want to buy ever one of them. Back to the farm…

We start with the bunnies.

After the bunnies O.G. leads the boys into the barn where he teaches them how to properly leap from a pile of hay bales.


I find myself wishing I was a boy. Or at least a little kid again. The action drew a crowd.

After the hay, O.G. and the boys take off to the next destination. The electric cars

and motorcyle

While the boys are driving around, O.G. is busy planning the next activity. This one requires a ladder, some rope

and putting Thomas in a harness.

And then O.G. swings Thomas, around and around.

Benjamin is next.

You’d think O.G. would be running out of energy by now. But nope, next we head to the platform that leads to nowhere.

O.G. has team and leadership training sessions out here for corporations. He mentions this is how they end the day –conquering the fear of walking off a plank. The challenge? Strap yourself in and then walk off the platform to no where. You end up swinging back and forth but that initial drop feels is probably what gets you, the moment when gravity takes over.

Calvin is first. He has absolutely no hesitation. Suits up and walks off the edge. Little Thomas follows his big brother. Benjamin isn’t so quick to decide. He’s hesitating and I can completely understand why. I’m petrified just watching. But after some coaxing from O.G.

Benjamin puts one foot in front of the other

And then he jumps, swinging back and forth until the nice man at the bottom caught him.

The boys wind down with a run of O.G.’s obstacle course and then we head home.

The day has me thinking about fear and how completely freeing it is to be fearless. I mean really, what is the difference between a five year old and yourself? The experience, the hurt, the pain you’ve lived through. Imagine if you could eliminate that baggage? Could you learn to love again? Can we ever really fall in love again? Like we did before becoming single moms? I think we can.

We just have to step off that plank and trust that the rope will break our fall.
——-

Over the past four years on this blog you have all read along as I recovered from my divorce, and started dating again and then when I found my first post-divorce relationship.

I have written, healing with pride, sickness that I was content being single. I was proud because I had made it that far–that I had climbed that mountain and survived. I have shared my dating escapades with you, the good, the bad and the ugly. I have written about what I felt to be true love. I have also rationalized away feelings in my gut that things weren’t right by attesting that relationships didn’t need butterflies. I then tried to describe the complete heartbreak I felt when things fell apart on Christmas Eve. I also shared with you Benjamin’s pain and then his surprisingly quick recovery. He was happier without that relationship in his life, or in mine.

But I have never, ever written that I did not believe in love or in finding something like what my parents had.

Am I in love with love? Hell, yes I am. If you aren’t in love with love or the idea of finding love, will you ever have it? Love could pass you by entirely or you may never experience it. You may settle. You may be content with a relationship that just delivers the basics.

I know I could have eased you into the news in my last post, but I felt obligated to tell you as quickly as possible that YES you must have butterflies and that NO you should never, ever compromise. I wanted to tell you right away because I care about all of you more than you know. I know you take my advice and writings to heart and I wanted to post a correction of sorts. The correction being that you should never settle. And that goes for the men, too. Including John Bear, who I believe was settling in some way with us. I want him to feel what I am feeling now and am glad we both had the power to walk away from our relationship, as comfortable as it was.

I can’t say I’m not upset by some of the comments. I am.

The judgement is what bothers me the most and the questioning about my character and, in particular, my ability as a mother to make sure that my son always comes first. Another thing that bothers me is your lack in faith in my rationality right now is upsetting. I haven’t lost my mind, I’m not going to run off and marry him. I am going to enjoy him. I am going to enjoy us. Our children are going to meet at a huge Halloween party. And after that they may not see each other for another month. We are in no way shape or form even considering integrating our families yet. And even if we were, stop the judgment, please. That’s all I ask.

Your opinions are all valid and you are all right in your perspectives, regardless of whether or not I like hearing them –they are your opinions. And three weeks ago, I would have been right there with you… so I understand that entirely. But, please don’t judge. If you think I am making a mistake, let me make my own mistakes.

—–

My Mom and Dad used to blast this song from the car stereo with all of us hiding in embarrassment in the back seat. Now I am singing right along…

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I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, troche don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, purchase but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, cheapest “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, cheapest “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, there “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, dosage ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, cheapest “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, there “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, dosage ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, more about many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, more about I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman in hopes that my readers learn something from my experiences and to help us all to accept single motherhood with all of its ups and downs.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children, it will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years.

For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern? Personally, my pattern fits me and I don’t expect any of you to understand that as I recognize that I am a bit abnormal.

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, cheapest “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, there “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, dosage ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, more about many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, more about I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman in hopes that my readers learn something from my experiences and to help us all to accept single motherhood with all of its ups and downs.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children, it will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years.

For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern? Personally, my pattern fits me and I don’t expect any of you to understand that as I recognize that I am a bit abnormal.

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
I have never before regretted publishing a single post here. And when I published my last post I was so excited to share my news with all of you, approved thinking that I had to tell you right away that a) I had been wrong about a few things, namely, settling for a match that does not include sparks and butterflies and possibly even love at first sight.

I
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, cheapest “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, there “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, dosage ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, more about many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, more about I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman in hopes that my readers learn something from my experiences and to help us all to accept single motherhood with all of its ups and downs.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children, it will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years.

For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern? Personally, my pattern fits me and I don’t expect any of you to understand that as I recognize that I am a bit abnormal.

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
I have never before regretted publishing a single post here. And when I published my last post I was so excited to share my news with all of you, approved thinking that I had to tell you right away that a) I had been wrong about a few things, namely, settling for a match that does not include sparks and butterflies and possibly even love at first sight.

I
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, approved many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, page I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children. It will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years. For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern?

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone like I never thought I could be. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, cheapest “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, there “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, dosage ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, more about many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, more about I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman in hopes that my readers learn something from my experiences and to help us all to accept single motherhood with all of its ups and downs.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children, it will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years.

For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern? Personally, my pattern fits me and I don’t expect any of you to understand that as I recognize that I am a bit abnormal.

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
I have never before regretted publishing a single post here. And when I published my last post I was so excited to share my news with all of you, approved thinking that I had to tell you right away that a) I had been wrong about a few things, namely, settling for a match that does not include sparks and butterflies and possibly even love at first sight.

I
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, approved many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, page I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children. It will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years. For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern?

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone like I never thought I could be. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, search many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, dosage I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman in hopes that my readers learn something from my experiences and to help us all to accept single motherhood with all of its ups and downs.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children, it will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years. For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern? Personally, my pattern fits me and I don’t expect any of you to understand that as I recognize that I am a bit abnormal.

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
I don’t have all of the answers when it comes to love and dating. You all know that, link more about don’t you?

I try to keep this blog purely about my own take on all of this, store recipe but I also want to offer my advice. However, in the past I have made some errant statements. I was feeling them at the time and firmly believed them to be true, but today – sitting here and feeling what I am feeling – I can tell you a few things I was definitely wrong about:

1. Butterflies are a must

2. You should never, ever settle no matter what

3. Prince Charming does exist

And I’m going
I’ll be back. I’m not sure when. Maybe in a week, erectile or a month, or never. Honestly, I don’t know right now.

After meeting him, my first reaction was to tell all of you – and quickly – that you must have butterflies, that you must feel a spark, that you must never settle, that I had found something I am sure not all of us get to experience in a lifetime. I wanted to put a clause or a correction on everything I had been writing in the past. I wanted to share it with you so you in turn won’t settle, as I had advised before. And then the harsh judgments started pouring in.

All of my credibility, all trust you may have in my judgement to protect my son – all of that tossed aside, without any regard to the fact that Benjamin is the happiest kid you’ll ever meet and doing far better in school and in life than I ever could have imagined.

To question my character? Really?

Yes, I love being in love. Yes, I love love. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I have met the man of my dreams. And yes, I will may be a fool. But for the first time in the four years since starting my blog, I am choosing to keep things where they belong – between he and I. Read my archives, take what you will from them. Learn what you can, that’s why this blog is here.

Know that I am out enjoying life and, gasp, love. And I am completely aware that I could get hurt. I am completely aware that this is just the beginning. And no I am not going to rush off and marry him or move in with him. I really will miss writing, but this is what I need right now. I need to be completely and absolutely selfish and just enjoy my privacy.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, unhealthy “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, pharm ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, click “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, doctor ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling?

He sends me music during the day. Links to download albums he’s discovered. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, illness “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, for sale “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, advice ” I answer, viagra relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen. I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She was one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he wrote. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats. He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in position he loves. He’s also a songwriter and a musician, one of five children (I’m one of six) and just returned to Ohio after four years in Texas.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet him online. How can you tell, I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I don’t want to do that. So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and then start uploading more pictures to my profile.

He responds and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours and then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. Only pure and absolute excitement at what will come next.

—-

He sends me music during the day. We both love Americana, Texas Country, Rock-a-billy, or whatever they call it. I read his blog and find that he can not only write but challenge my constantly curious mind with profound thoughts I had yet to consider. He picks me up for lunch on his motorcyle. I clutch his chest lean against him, he turns his head, smiles broadly and says “Hello.”  His voice has a softness but is entirely strong and confident. I don’t know many people who bear that kind of strength at our age. We are the same age. Young. Only 32. But we’ve lived a million lives in the pain we’ve experienced and also the joys of overcoming that pain to find each other at the end of it all – happy, content, complete with our own independent passions.

Is he real? Or maybe I have entered an alternate universe. Because here he is. The man I have always described as wanting.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, order “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I couldn’t. I was talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he was.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that were smiling even when he was not. Holding in one picture, his daughter on his lap. She is one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“I am a full-time single dad,” he writes. “They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive still and still there, ten minutes later.

What is going on? This man is making me smile and he isn’t even in the room.

Two weeks earlier, I had given myself 15 minutes–that’s all I could afford out of my tight schedule–to put up a profile on OkCupid.com. But after one lackluster date that Saturday, I was convinced I could never meet someone online. How can you tell? I thought on my ride home from the flop date, how can you tell if you have chemistry with someone online? I will end up going out on a million dates and, bleh, no, I just don’t have the time.

So here I was, about to delete my account. But before I did, I checked my inbox just one last time.

His message had been sitting there unanswered for days.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We found out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and we set up a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find coordinating pieces. The butterflies weren’t just flying around in my stomach–they were throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and throw on an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring, I think, but at least I’m wearing something.

At this point, this is a huge win.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I expected. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. He’s lived a thousand things and survived them. You can see this in an instant. We are both 32, but like so many other things we have in common, we have both survived what others may find insurmountable.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And that was that.

And here we are, kissing on my couch. The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements.

And I have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because I have found mine.

Now, with this said… there will be no rushing the children into things. Introductions will be made slowly, very slowly, and I am still completely level headed and so is he. When you know there is no end,
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, cheapest “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes,” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
He holds my face in his hands and says before kissing me, there “Are you feeling this?”

“Yes, dosage ” I answer, relieved. “It’s not just me, then?”

“No. It’s not just you,” he says.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

“Nope.” He smiles into my eyes.

“Me neither.”

But we just met. This is only our second date.

How is this possible? How can we both be feeling what we’re feeling? Is this purely driven by our physical attraction to one another? Definitely not, I’ve felt that before–this is something entirely different. And I was attracted to him before I even met him. This is something I can’t describe and all of my skepticism all of my cynicism, all of my doubts that love like this exists in the world is immediately gone.

And I can say that this is worth everything preceding it, no matter what follows…

——

The first time I see him it is through the glare of my laptop screen.

I am smiling as I look at his profile pictures. My smile is almost obtrusive because I can’t make it stop. “Why are you smiling like this?” I say out loud. “Stop. Seriously, this is ridiculous. It’s just a profile.” But I can’t. I am talking to myself and smiling and struck.

There he is.

All smiles himself with lovely dark eyes that are smiling even when he is not, the outline of his dimples showing through his beard. In one picture he is holding his daughter on his lap, she one of two children he mentions in his profile.

“They’re incredible. And tiring. And funny. And totally worth all the hard work.”

I scan his stats.

He’s 6’3″, clearly gorgeous, gainfully employed in a position he loves. And then there’s his smile. And my smile. The one that is still on my face. Obtrusive and still there, five minutes later.

What is going on? This is nuts.

I had logged on that afternoon to delete my account on OkCupid.com. I had gone on one really awkward date and couldn’t bear the thought of going on anymore. It would be a waste of time. And I don’t want a man that badly. Not bad enough to do that again.

Before deleting my account I stopped, noticing a stock pile of inbound messages. Hmmmm…. who were these from? I scanned the inbox. Nah, nope, gross! And then there was his face and a message.

Evidently we’re 0% match, 41% friend, and 50% enemy. I think that’s pretty funny, because based on how you describe yourself and your “manperson”, I think we’d actually get along pretty well. So, guess I’m just saying Hi, and I’d like to talk sometime.

Keep being awesome.

We find out later we were 50% enemy because I hadn’t taken the time to properly fill out my profile. I write back immediately and after a few exchanges we have made a Saturday coffee date.

That day I can’t think about much else and after Benjamin marches off to Margaret’s house across the street, she’s my soul mate single mama neighbor, without whom I don’t know what I would do. We both trade our children back and forth all weekend, every weekend. This is one of those times and she’s happily acquired Benjamin so I can get dressed. But I can’t get dressed.

This never happens to me. Sure, I have trouble deciding on what to wear, but in this instance I am literally unable to even find something, anything to wear. The butterflies aren’t just flying around in my stomach–they are throwing punches. I end up electing to be on time rather than super cute and choose an old sweater over a t-shirt. Completely boring but at this point, this is a huge win–at least I am dressed.

On paper he is everything.

But what will he be like in person?

When I walk in, I see him on the couch. He jumps up and greets me and I can tell he’s just as nervous. He’s taller than I imagined. It’s not every day that six foot, three men are standing before you. His face is warm, sweet, kind and interesting. And in an instant I can tell that he has lived and survived through pain, real pain. The pain of divorce, the pain of raising two children through that. He is equally as strong as he is sensitive and caring. A dad, through and through. I immediately like him and feel like I’ve known him forever.

When we sit down the conversation starts and it doesn’t stop. We are talking (and laughing) for hours. I find out he has recently moved back to Ohio after four years in Texas, my favorite place on the planet. He has passions: his motorcycle, his songwriting, his children, who are five and six. And then, the coffee long gone, we take a walk from Cup o’ Joe into the Short North. We window shop, eat ice cream and when it’s time to get back to Benjamin he tells me he’d like to see me again.

And so it began…

—-

And here we are, kissing on my couch.

The butterflies are there, the lead weights are there. Everything is there and I have absolutely no reservations, no compromises, no settlements. I also have to stand corrected. On the Prince Charming stuff. While I don’t need to be rescued in any way, he definitely exists because, I have found mine.

To prevent any worries on your end, my sweet readers, because I know some of you may be thinking–that I am insane or that my body has been taken hostage by dopamine and other chemically, or hormonally induced forces… there will be no rushing the children into things. As badly as we want everyone to meet, introductions will be made slowly, very slowly. Like a month from now slowly. And even then we will be friends who have play dates once a week or bi-weekly.

We have both learned in the past that being a single parent dating requires patience and planning.
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, more about many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, more about I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman in hopes that my readers learn something from my experiences and to help us all to accept single motherhood with all of its ups and downs.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children, it will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years.

For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern? Personally, my pattern fits me and I don’t expect any of you to understand that as I recognize that I am a bit abnormal.

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
I have never before regretted publishing a single post here. And when I published my last post I was so excited to share my news with all of you, approved thinking that I had to tell you right away that a) I had been wrong about a few things, namely, settling for a match that does not include sparks and butterflies and possibly even love at first sight.

I
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, approved many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, page I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children. It will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years. For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern?

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone like I never thought I could be. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
Based on the flurry of comments to my last post, search many of which are expressing concern about my “patterns” my “being in love with love” and my son’s future psychological health, dosage I feel like one response in a post will be easier than individually.

First, I completely and absolutely understand your concerns and your fears. I would have expressed the same three weeks ago. I myself, as you know, have written dozens of posts, some more direct than others, bringing to question the idea of falling hard and fast. I have said over and over again that we should choose men with our heads, not our hearts.

I have also always been completely honest with all of you, at my own expense in many cases. Why? Because my hurt pride over being wrong is not worth the alternative, which would be never publishing many of the stories I have shared with you. I do it for one purpose–to share what I have learned from my experiences as a dating single mother and as a single woman in hopes that my readers learn something from my experiences and to help us all to accept single motherhood with all of its ups and downs.

I hesitated before publishing my last post and gave it great thought, expecting many of you to react the way you did. But, ultimately I published it because I felt a sense of urgency to raise a flag and say, “WAIT, wait, wait! Love does happen. You can find someone who is completely and utterly everything you have ever dreamed of finding.” My first instinct was to tell you quickly and to take back what I had said about being with someone when your gut is telling you otherwise. It shouldn’t be so hard so early on.

As far as introducing our children, it will be at a Halloween party and not at all like a “formal introduction of meeting Daddy’s new girlfriend.” Not at all. And after bringing John into Benjamin and I’s life way too quickly, and after having that relationship completely fall apart on Christmas Eve of all days, I am incredibly sensitive to this issue.

As far as being in love with love… I am in love with love. I believe in love. I grew up in a house with two parents who were madly in love with each other. For. 30. Years. For 30 years without a break in their love, without a lessening in the intensity. And my father treated my mother like a queen. That is what I want and that is why my “pattern” has been to get out of relationships that were wrong after six months (Kris) and two years (John Bear). Other than that, what exactly is my pattern? Personally, my pattern fits me and I don’t expect any of you to understand that as I recognize that I am a bit abnormal.

There are a few themes on this blog and in my writing that I do not want any of you to dismiss because I am now madly and crazily in love with someone. They are:

1. Love yourself first.

2. Realize that you don’t need a man at all, in fact, you probably only want one.

3. But there is nothing wrong with wanting one.

4. Choose a man using your head and your heart. The key to this, as I am now realizing is to not choose a man only with your head or only with your heart.

and finally,

5. When it comes to introducing your children to your boyfriend or significant others, they will be okay. Your children will be fine. Yes, it would be terrible if you are bringing violent or destructive men around. But because we are single parents our children are a part of our dating lives, whether we like it or not. And guess what? It’s okay if they feel hurt or loss, if that one day makes way for love. In fact, I would argue, my child is a million times happier than many children who are living in households with two miserably married parents. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I know Benjamin will be okay and I would never do anything to compromise that. And finally, I do not want to rush the blending of our families. I don’t know about you, but having your man all to yourself for a while is definitely more fun than hanging out with the kids.
My father and I were folding laundry, more about the piles were up to our knees.

It had been a particularly rough week in our house. There were six of us after all and my mother and he had been fighting about something. I can’t remember what, pill most likely something to do with the logistics of raising six humans. Should Eliot really go off to soccer practice in Marietta or should he stay at the camp in Athens? Or, should the girls really go to that party at so and so’s house whose parents may or may not be home?

My parents had a very unique relationship. Unlike parents I witnessed at my friends’ houses, my parents would often be spotted kissing in the kitchen while preparing dinner and they would stay up late into the night talking. Not fighting or arguing, but deep in conversation, passionate conversation about their work, life, us kids, and each other. They didn’t waste time with things, like television. They were in love, yes, but they were also best friends.

When my father died, part of my mother died with him.

In this moment, buried in the laundry, I felt struck to ask him a bold question.

“How do you do it, Dad? How do you still love Mom so much after all of these years? Even on days like this.”

It only took him a moment to answer, “I always knew, even though my parents had gone through a terrible divorce, that I would find the love of my life some day and that I would be madly in love with her. I believed in love.” He paused and kept folding and then added, “and so did your mother. Look at her family. Divorce, horrible, horrible things but she still believed. We both believed. And then we found each other.”

It made complete sense to me, they believed in love. More importantly, they believed in their relationship. The believing being the key. Because nothing can existing without a belief that it exists. Especially love.

Belief in motion. My parents stepping outside of a hotel after their wedding.

Related posts:

  1. Baggage check: I won’t let myself fall in love.
  2. Polka dot love.
  3. Love and rear view mirrors.
  4. The secret to love
  5. Can single moms really “fall in love”?

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