As a mom of two young children, my dating life has often felt like it was on life support. Recently, an unexpected opportunity arose: a night at a questionable motel with a man I’d only spoken to twice on the phone. With a bit of juggling, I arranged for friends to look after my kids, ages 2 and 9. It had been three years since I spent the night with a man, and the thought of waking up next to someone was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.
With my friends rallying behind me, checking in with “Are you alive??” texts the next morning, I met him, smiled, and almost leaned in for a kiss. Once we were in our room, I felt a surge of confidence; my body felt alive with desire. In a moment of unexpected hilarity, he grabbed my chest, only for me to accidentally spray milk everywhere. We both laughed it off, but the memory still makes me cringe.
After my second daughter was born, my libido vanished for over a year. The sound of kissing made me feel ill. It was a friend who introduced me to a man who resembled a younger version of Ryan Gosling. I fell for him too quickly, but he made it clear he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Undeterred, I turned to online dating, trying to learn how to connect with men, hoping to rebuild my trust in them.
Initially, my attempts were met with disappointment as I faced rejection and found myself drawn to unsuitable partners. I took a five-month break from dating, redirecting my focus to my freelance career. Through hard work, I climbed out of financial struggles, eventually earning enough to place my younger daughter in daycare full-time. With a newfound sense of independence, I finally got a smartphone, which led me to Tinder.
I discovered a plethora of single men in Montana. Many proudly showcased their hunting trophies, which earned them a quick left swipe from me. When I started conversing with matches, I noticed that mentioning my status as a single mom often led to abrupt unmatches or silences.
Six months prior, I would have felt defeated by this. At that time, I saw myself as a burden, struggling with the cost of childcare, and feeling like dating was a privilege I didn’t deserve. However, after my humorous mishap with breast milk, I realized I was sexy and worthy of love. Instead of rushing into a relationship, I took my time, enjoying the chance to meet various people without the pressure of commitment. I dated firefighters, lawyers, musicians, and even an adventurous Australian cyclist.
One challenge I still face is navigating how and when to introduce my children into the dating conversation. Sometimes, I feel like I’m being dishonest when I reply “Great!” on a Saturday morning while cleaning up after my child’s latest bout of illness.
Previously, I hesitated to mention my kids to potential partners because I thought it would diminish my attractiveness, especially to those who listed “Never Married, No Kids” in their profiles. But why should being a single mother be a negative? In fact, single mothers possess resilience and adaptability that many admire. We know how to have fun on a budget, solve problems quickly, and handle tantrums with ease—skills that are invaluable in dating.
Moreover, if you’re out with a single mom, you should appreciate the precious time she’s dedicating to you. Instead of being at home, relaxing in a bath, or catching up with friends, she chose to spend time with you. That in itself speaks volumes.
For now, dating remains an enjoyable experience for me, and I’m cautious about introducing anyone to my kids, particularly since my 9-year-old has a penchant for asking, “Are you going to be my stepdad?” It’s clear that it would take a remarkable man to step into my world, and I’m willing to wait. For the first time, I realize that I’m worth waiting for—and so are all single moms.
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