After my third date with Mark — a charming, witty data analyst and wine connoisseur I met a few weeks back on a dating app — I was once again reminded of the stigma surrounding being a single mother. I’ve lived in the same quiet suburban neighborhood for over a decade, where young families thrive. My neighbors all know me well, and they are all aware of my divorce.
Mark arrived on his sleek motorcycle, parking it in my driveway for a full day. It was his first visit to my home, though certainly not the first unconventional vehicle to grace my driveway overnight. As I walked him to his bike and we shared a goodbye kiss, I noticed my neighbor tending to her garden with her kids nearby. After he drove off, I ambled towards my front door, sifting through the mail. My neighbor playfully remarked, “Not going to say anything? Just going to keep your head down and walk away?” I know she meant no harm, but the undertone suggested I had something to be embarrassed about.
The first time I felt shame for dating post-divorce was over two years ago, sitting across from my best friend of three decades at a local diner. After sharing news about a new guy I was seeing, she nervously fiddled with her utensils, refusing to engage or ask any follow-up questions. Later, she made it clear she didn’t want to hear about my romantic escapades. Another friend’s boyfriend outright called me inappropriate names after overhearing a casual conversation about my dating life. For the past two years, I’ve faced a barrage of similar judgment from married friends, who often laugh at my dating stories, masking their disdain with humor. I play along, but inside, it stings. It hurts not just because I feel judged but because the only way they can discuss this aspect of my life is through laughter, at my expense.
Dating has become a significant part of my life whether I like it or not, and I’ve found my circle shrinking. The only people who really listen to my stories are a handful of single male friends and a few other single women, which is a sparse crowd at 38 after being in a long-term relationship for over a decade. This shift has led to the erosion of many female friendships, as I often encounter silence when I try to share my experiences. Sometimes I choose to remain quiet, but when asked what I’ve been up to, dating inevitably comes into the conversation.
The most challenging aspect of divorce is the loss of vital relationships. Your spouse is just the tip of the iceberg; you also lose in-laws, parts of your children’s lives, and several friend groups who are forced to choose sides. Once the dust settles, you may find that some of your own friends drift away, unable or unwilling to understand your new reality.
I was last single in my early twenties. Back then, being overlooked by a guy at the gym felt trivial, easily remedied with a night out. At 38, navigating the dating scene with two kids and most of my friends in committed relationships is a far different experience. In the past two years, I’ve endured heartbreak three times—one was from a nine-month relationship, another from a seven-week fling, and the last from a brief four-week connection. While these relationships were fleeting compared to my marriage, they hurt deeply. The first heartbreak was expected, the second was less so, and by the time the third unfolded, none of my friends had the time or inclination to share a glass of wine and listen to my disappointment.
I understand my friends are busy with their families and lives; I’ve been there myself, and I don’t harbor resentment. But this is the reality of being a single woman navigating the dating world. You either find a new circle of friends who can relate to your current journey, or you face it alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. I’ve never felt more solitary than in the past two years.
Yes, I made the choice to leave my marriage — a decision reached after a year of unproductive therapy efforts. I could have stayed, but that wasn’t a path I was willing to pursue. I opted for the risk of losing everything in hopes of finding happiness. When Mark and I sit on my porch sipping mimosas, discussing life and love, and he tells me how intelligent and beautiful I am, I feel a flicker of joy. I’m grateful that someone can recognize my worth, even if his presence is transient. I took the risk for the chance to be appreciated, even if only for a moment.
I anticipated my divorce would alter my family dynamics — my ex-husband won’t communicate with me, I split custody of my children, and my in-laws cut ties the moment I filed. What I hadn’t expected was how my friendships would transform into something unfamiliar. Divorce has a way of stripping life down to its essential elements, a painful yet clarifying process. If you’re seeking happiness, you must first pinpoint where to look amidst the chaos and clear away the distractions. Understanding where you fit in the aftermath is crucial; only then can others truly see you, which is ultimately what you’ve always desired.
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Summary
Divorce can profoundly alter friendships, with many relationships diminishing as a result of stigma and misunderstanding. The journey of dating post-divorce often leads to feelings of isolation and judgment, highlighting the complexities of navigating new social dynamics. Finding connections with those who understand your situation is crucial, while also acknowledging the emotional toll of significant life changes.