Yesterday, I received a letter from a newly-separated woman who’d recently signed up on a dating site. She wrote:

“I read your blog that said you don’t spend a lot of time talking to prospective dates on the phone or IM because you find it sets up false expectations.

My concern is that I’m going to meet a wacko or stalker! So how long DO you talk to online men before meeting face-to-face?” (Read more here)

Other Articles:

If You and Close Friend Had Sex With the Same Man…

You’ve PROVEN You Don’t Need A Man

FLASHING WARNING: Separated Men

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I avoid dating separated men like the plague.  Call it discrimination if you want.  I call it smart.  Cause yeah, I’ve met and/or dated a bunch of them since I got separated.  And without fail, they’ve fallen into one of the following five following ‘wounded’ categories.

1:  The Over-Compensator.  This injured man is perhaps the easiest to fall for and subsequently, the most dangerous.  Energetic and outgoing, he acts like he has it all figured out and well under control.  In reference to his divorce you’ll hear comments like, Oh, it’s no big deal, life is great, and shit happens.  (Read more here)

Other Articles:

Is a ’spark’ essential?

Does Penis Size Matter?

Have you ever had cyber-sex?

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He was sooooo nice.  So very, very nice.  Well-spoken, mature, a fun personality.  And I really did enjoy talking to him. 

But I felt no spark;  I just wasn’t attracted to him.  Not just physically, but energetically.

He wanted to meet me for a second date.  I really didnt want to…but again, I went over his very nice qualities.  He was the kind of man a single mother of three SHOULD date, I thought.  Stable, adoring of children,  gentle, smart.  But still, the idea of another date with him left me feeling….well…nothing.

I felt guilty for my non-reaction - like I ’should’ try anyways.  A two-hour date was way too quick for me to ‘know’, right?  

But a couple of days later, I decided I just couldn’t do it.   I sent him an email to politely decline meeting him again; didn’t want to keep him hanging on…   He didn’t write me back.  I hoped I hadn’t hurt the man’s feelings.  He’d seemed so… hopeful.

I brought up the matter with my ‘friend with benefits’ a week later.  I thought he might have insight; he’s been doing the dating thing for almost ten years since his marriage split.  His response: “Don’t even bother with ’shoulds.’  It’s either there or it isn’t.  I’ve tried to make it work with ‘nice’ ladies before.  I’ve tried to stay with them for all the right reasons.  But it’s either there or it isn’t.  You just know.”

“But is one date really enough?”  I asked unconvinced.

“Definitely.  Or, at least it’s enough to know if there’s a spark.  As we get older, we ‘know’ these things even quicker.”

“You make it sounds so simple Chad…”  I replied, shaking my head.

“It IS simple Delaine,”  he replied.  “You can’t force it.  It’s the same with sex.  You either have great chemistry -  like you and me - or you don’t.  It’s energy.”

Maybe Chad’s right.  Maybe if, when you swallow a man’s energy and there’s no flutter inside, that’s all you need to know: it’s a dead end.  Even if you’re a single mom, there’s no reason to settle for ‘no spark.’  If anything, after all you’ve been endured and sacrificed to get where you are now, you should know better than to even consider it.

Other articles:

Do I Disqualify Potential Dates Too Quickly?,  BALANCE: What the heck is THAT?, One Night Stands: Qualifiers & Disqualifiers

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Over a year ago, when my best friend Hali and I found ourselves newly separated and back out in the dating trenches, we kept hearing the term “Friends With Benefits.”   We both liked the sound of it and decided it was something we wanted.  After all, we weren’t ready for serious, but we wanted to have sex.  Thus a sexual ‘friendship’ verses a love relationship seemed the perfect alternative.

But to this day, such an arrangement has been elusive.  And Hali maintains that FwB is a ‘myth’.  This is what we’ve discovered:

1) one person can end up more emotionally invested in the relationship than the other and wants ‘more’

2) no matter how open minded people proclaim themselves to be, they have a hard time knowing that the other person is still actively dating and potentially having sex with someone else

4) the ‘rules of play’ are grey and ambiguous - is she supposed to wait until he calls her?  Or vice versa?  Or is it open-ended?  And at what time of day/night does it apply?  And how many times can he/she says “I’m busy”, (which is rejection) , before the other person feels disrespected and bows out?

5) the ‘friendship’ part is underdeveloped.  Can they watch movies together or go out for dinner too?  Or is it strictly sexual and only to transpire at one person’s house?  What are the boundaries for sharing other aspects of their lives: work, family, love/sex, interests, dreams etc.?

I’m not so sure I’d go so far as to say the FwB arrangement is a ‘myth’ like Hali does.  Cause I’ve heard men say they’ve had it.   I guess I should have asked them more questions about it - dug a bit deeper and found out what it really looked and felt like.   Cause maybe a level of communication is required in order for it to be fulfilling.  Or there again, maybe a level of DETACHMENT predominates the arrangement, and the word “friend’ needs new definition.

Other Articles:

I’m no “MILF”. You’re the “SMILF”.  Goodbye Husband, Hellooo G-spot!  One-Night Stands: Qualifiers & Disqualifiers

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Over the past couple of months, men from the dating site, Lavalife, have started asking me the above question. The question comes in various renditions, from a simple “STILL on here, eh?” to “I can’t believe you still haven’t been snatched up!”

Time and time again though, my reaction has been the same: to roll my eyes. I mean, do they think I don’t know that I’ve been on there for over a year?

Half-amused, half-irritated, I imagine shocking them with a reply like:

1) The reason I’m still on here is because most of you men my age are fat, ugly, and balding.

2) I tend to date younger men cause they’re hot and fun in bed. But we don’t have much else in common so I lose interest quickly.  (Read more…)

Other Articles: Internet Dating: 10 Expert Tips to Get You Started,  Should I Pursue Casual Sex More Regularly?,  

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I was at a public swimming pool with my three kids, playing in the toddler section.  A great big bucket of water above us was almost full and teetering to tip.  My kids squealed and we all huddled in, arms entwined, heads down…till finally, the much-anticipated water crashed over our heads and backs.

Laughing, I scooted back on my bum and pushed my long drenched hair out of my face.   

And that’s when I met his eyes.

He was sitting about ten feet away on a shelf in deeper water, arms outstretched to his sides. Dark hair, muscular chest, maybe 40.   And he was staring.  Not looking, not laughing, but staring.

Our gaze broke when my four-year-old suddenly jumped on top of me.  I continued playing with her and laughing…and I could feel his eyes on me.  I looked over at him again - and yes, he wasn’t looking, he was staring. 

“Mom, can you get me a life-jacket so we can play in the deep water?”  My six year old asked.

I looked over at the life-jackets strung on hooks poolside.  Figures I wore my bikini today.    “Of course honey,” I replied, standing up in the shallow water.  I felt naked as I pulled myself out of the water.

Two minutes later, in another section of the pool, he suddenly appeared about five feet away from me.  Jesus, he’s following me!  Pretty brazen!  This time, when our eyes met, he smiled.  Holy shit he’s cute!  I smiled back and my stomach fluttered.  Then, How bad is this to be ‘picking up’ when I’m out for a family swim!!!  Off I went on flipper boards with my kids, thinking Yeah, I’m open to talking to this guy…

Over the next ten minutes, I found myself looking around to see where he was …and he was always close by and looking/smiling at me.  I also saw him playing with a little boy, maybe three-years-old.  Must be a divorced dad with weekend visitation, I thought.  I love watching men play with kids….

Then, a woman appeared. 

She stood at the side of the pool talking to him.  He handed her his son and pulled himself out of the water.  I watched them interact…how his demeanor changed, how he focused on her. 

 Shocked, I thought:   Holy f***.  This guy is married!

I shook my head in disgust and continued playing with my kids.  Still, I remained a bit bewildered; this guy had been sending me the vibe BIG TIME; unmistakably. And his wife had been in the same room the whole time!

I then thought back to when I married and all the times we’d gone public swimming with our children.  And I wondered how many women my ex had brazenly stared at when my back was  turned; you know - back when I thought we were sharing wonderful “family time.”

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Out of the blue, my aunt emailed me this photo tonight.  I’m not posting it because I want you say I look cute.  I’m showing it because it made me burst out crying. 

Look at how innocent I was.  My God, the face of an angel with hair so white.  “What was I like back then?”  I ask myself.  I don’t remember.  I think I’m about four.  I think I was a good kid, always easy to get along with, always wanting to please everyone.  Yeah, mom always said I was a really good, easy child.

Look at my dress.  I don’t remember it either.  My mom used to make a lot of my clothes back then.  In that era there was a lot of wacky, tacky prints and frills.  But my mom dressed with me love and in my heart I knew I had a loving family, a safe unbroken home; that I was wanted and protected and taken care of.  Through the window in the background I think I see my mom, her younger self.  God, she must be younger than I am now.  What was she busy doing?  What never-ending line-up of motherly chores was she tending to?  She had a family of four kids.

In my mind’s eye, I age me and I see me at 8, 10, doing cartwheels around this 4-year-old me, so happy, so playful, so free to live each day unencumbered.  But I bring myself back to this 4-year-old me and ask myself again, “What were you like?  You were newly here from the Other Side, a soul of pure light, your conscious mind untainted yet by life.  What was your soul like?”

Still, I don’t remember.  I sit and I wait for the feeling of her in my skin.  And I can’t feel her.  All I feel is a pain in my chest and tears in my eyes.  How did I go from there…. her…

…to here?

My daughter is now four.  And I’m going to show her this photo.  She sometimes asks me if I was ever a baby or a little girl.  She comments on the lines on my face and asks me why they’re there.  “Because I’ve been here 38 years,”  I tell her.  “Everyone gets older.”  I know she doesn’t understand time and how much living was required for me to get here.  A part of me doesn’t want her to know, I want her to savor her ‘in-the-moment’ carefree happiness.  And yet another part of me wants to tell her about this earth school of hard-knocks, to prepare her for this journey of tough self-love.

So I’ve stared and wept at this photo for awhile tonight.  I feel the cargo I’ve added to my back over my lifetime, the heaviness that I am yet to amputate.  Yet this photo brings me pause.  It brings me back to the beginning, to my essence.  It takes my breath away.  And it makes me cry.  Cause I don’t remember.

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“My ex-husband took the kids for the first time this weekend. And my heart is so heavy.”

This message awaited me from a newly-divorcing friend on Facebook this morning.  She was floundering, her free time only reminding her how empty and confused she felt. 

I read her message with a tight chest:  I remember…

Just over a year ago, my own divorce journey began and my-ex started taking our three kids for sleepovers.  I remember the surrealness of the First Time: carefully packing their clothes, writing out a list of activities and reminders, reassuring my kids with the biggest, fake smile ever:  “You’re going to have SO much fun with daddy.”

And then ‘he’ was at the door, lurking in the foyer, not invited in, but here to do ‘pick up.’   Me explaining a few things from the list, my voice too cheery, him not looking at me, while little feet scrambled around to put on shoes and jackets,  The tearful hugs goodbye, again more reassurances, that over-happy voice I used calling out “Bye!  I love you!”  Standing in the doorway, watching my kids walk away, waving and smiling as if they were going out for ice cream.

Then, stepping back into the house – into silence.  A silence so eerie I felt I’d landed on a different planet.  I put away dishes and paced around. I noticed every toy, every belonging of my children.  Here it was – the free time I never had as a single mom.  But it felt empty – ominous. Oh my God, this is really happening.  And I buckled to the floor in tears.    

I’d naively thought that making the final decision to divorce would be the hardest part of the journey – it had taken me three years to swallow that choice.  But of course, divorce is not a decision but a process, one full of many ‘firsts’ that eat you up inside:  like the ex taking the kids for the first sleepover.  Those first times are first steps, followed by second steps and thirds.  And oftentimes, without warning, you take two steps backwards…back into pain, back into the heartache from which there seems no escape or cure.

I sat down at my computer in a frenzied state of purpose: my girlfriend, my fellow warrior, had fallen on her path in the Wilderness of divorce.  And even though I knew that she, and only she, could navigate her way out of that hellhole, I knew she needed me – someone a bit further along the path - to help her regain her footing.   

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