After my third date with Jake—a charming, witty software engineer and craft beer aficionado I met a few weeks back on a dating app—I faced judgment yet again for being a single mom navigating the dating scene. For over a decade, I’ve lived in a cozy suburban cul-de-sac filled with young families. I know my neighbors well, and they know me—most importantly, they know I’m divorced.
Jake arrived on his sleek motorcycle for our date, leaving it parked in my driveway overnight. It was his first visit to my home, though not the first unusual vehicle to take up space there. As I walked him to the door and we shared a goodbye kiss, my neighbor was tending to her flower garden with her kids nearby. After Jake left, I headed to check the mail. As I strolled toward my front door, glancing at the envelopes, my neighbor cheekily remarked, “Not going to say anything? Just going to keep your head down?” I’ve known her for years, and while I’m sure she meant no harm, her comment carried an implication of shame.
The first time I felt embarrassed about dating after my marriage was over two years ago, sitting across from my lifelong friend at a diner. When I shared about a guy I had just met, she awkwardly fidgeted with her silverware and didn’t ask any follow-up questions. Later, she made it clear she didn’t want to hear about my dating life ever again. Another friend’s boyfriend bluntly called me a “slut” after hearing about my romantic encounters. Over the past two years, I’ve encountered a string of married friends who either openly or subtly suggest that my dating life is a punchline. I laugh along to mask the hurt, which is compounded by the fact that the only way they engage with this part of my life is through humor.
Dating has become a major aspect of my life whether I like it or not. The people who are willing to listen to my stories are a couple of single guy friends and a few single women—of whom there are very few at the age of 38 after spending 13 years in a committed relationship. Many of my female friendships have faded away as I often encounter silence when attempting to discuss this chapter of my life. Sometimes I hold back, but if someone inquires about what I’ve been up to, dating naturally becomes part of the conversation.
The most heartbreaking reality of divorce is the loss of so many meaningful relationships. The end of my marriage meant losing not only my spouse but also my in-laws and parts of my children’s lives. Friend groups often choose sides, and eventually, some of my own friends drift away because they struggle to understand my new situation.
The last time I was single was in my early twenties. Back then, a snub from a guy at the gym was just a reason for a night out with friends, not quite the same when you’re 38, juggling two kids, and most of your friends are married. Over the last two years, I’ve felt genuine heartache three times—once from a nine-month relationship, another from a seven-week fling, and lastly, a four-week connection. Despite their short duration compared to my marriage, each loss was painful. The first was understandable, the second less so, and by the third heartbreak, no one seemed available to share a glass of wine and hear my woes.
I understand that my friends are busy with their own lives, and I don’t blame them for it. However, this highlights the lonely reality of being a single woman in the dating world. You either find a new circle of friends who grasp your new reality or you navigate it alone. Alone, alone, alone. In the past two years, I’ve never felt more isolated.
Yes, I chose to leave my marriage after a year of unproductive therapy. I could have stayed, but that wasn’t a path I was willing to take. So, I risked everything for a chance at happiness. When Jake and I sit on my patio sipping mimosas, discussing life and love, and he tells me I’m an intelligent and beautiful person, I feel a sense of joy. I’m grateful for someone who sees my worth, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment.
I knew my divorce would alter my family dynamics; my ex will not speak to me, I have my kids half the time, and my in-laws cut ties the day I filed for divorce. What I didn’t realize was how my friendships would shift as well, transforming into something less familiar.
Divorce has a way of stripping life down to its essential elements, and that process is often painful. However, if you’re seeking happiness, it requires you to clear away the noise and identify what truly matters. Until you find your place amidst the chaos, it becomes challenging for others to see you—something that is often all you’ve ever wanted.
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Summary
Divorce can dramatically impact friendships, often leading to feelings of isolation and judgment. While navigating dating as a single parent, one may lose friends who struggle to understand this new reality. The journey involves not only a personal transformation but also a reevaluation of relationships, as many friends may drift away or fail to engage with one’s experiences. Ultimately, seeking happiness requires clarity and connection amidst the changes.