Category Archives: single mom

Mar18

Give me bossy, I’ll give you a voice.

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I have a problem calling my daughter bossy. I also find it difficult to reprimand her for the times she is bossy. She’s young and impressionable. I’d rather she grow up bossy and strong, with a slight attitude towards authority, than lose her voice. She’s young and knowing the difference at this age is challenging.

Attitude is everything. It’s what defines growth and success. It’s what decides if goals are achieved. It’s what can define our character and how we think of ourselves, how we talk to ourselves.

It’s also what separates state of content from true pure happiness.

We have a habit as empathetic humans of getting roped into things that aren’t good for us because it’s what someone else wants or because we’re told it’s what’s best for us. We’re never given a well-rounded why but we take it, hoping maybe they know something we don’t or because we host this fear of the unknown.

It’s why we go back to toxic or negative relationships. Instead of burning the house down we shut the door and hang a rope out the window.

It’s why we stick around for undervalued or underpaid jobs instead of chasing a career and holding out for the positions or pay we deserve.

It’s why we don’t speak up when we disagree with a popular opinion.

It’s why when we’re sad, we smother it and self-medicate in damaging ways or ignore it until it becomes a ticking time bomb and too much to bear.

It’s why we overuse words like depression and anxiety, when what we really feel is sad or fear.

It’s why we often times forget people cannot simply demand our respect given their job title or status in life—it’s something that must be continuously earned.

It’s why we lose curiosity and imagination with age.

It’s why when we’re told “No” or that we’re not good enough, we often take it.

We’re told “No” too many times. “Sit down.” “Be quiet.” “Listen up.” Yet, we never give someone at a young age the platform to speak and cultivate their own thought process.

I make Evelynn play alone. Sometimes, I’ve wondered if I’m a bad mom for fostering independence—I know some people find this “selfish” behavior on my part but never ask me why I do it. I want her to rely on herself and feel confident alone. So many people are so scared of being alone or find too much comfort in it as a way to escape reality. I want her to grow up balancing social and alone time.

When Evelynn was first put into preschool (a pre pre-preschool at age 2) for 2 hours, it was required the parents stick around in the room. What happened? Every child only wanted to play with their parent. I refused. I encouraged her to play with other kids while I drank my coffee and watched, stepping in as needed if there was a problem. Overtime, other parents tried to do the same and we’d chat, often interrupted by their kid wanting their attention in a roomful of child peers. Evelynn ended up being the only child social enough to play with other kids and parents the entire time, every day. Despite her speech issue.

When she went into pre-preschool at age 3, she became the child who sought out the lonely kid and made sure they had a buddy. While other kids often sought her out, and she would play with them, too, she was comfortable enough to play with the quiet kid, the disabled kid, the lonely kid.

For our 90-minute trips to the east side or back, she plays with her hands. Her fingers are puppets. She entertains herself. Whereas me and my brother would have berated our parents with “Are we there yet?” Evelynn keeps herself occupied or tells me a story. Or naps. I’m lucky there.

What do I mean when I make her play alone? Saturday and Sunday mornings are my “coffee time” when I drink my coffee and read. Evelynn can cuddle with me if she’s in a mood or, mostly, I encourage her to play with her barbies or dolls or animals or kitchen set. I encourage her to color or do her puzzle. She’s still on this 400-piece puzzle that I refuse to help her with. The only thing I’m willing to do is sit at the table with her or separate the pieces by theme (sky, snow, edges, etc.). I want her to be able to say she did it. I want her to be comfortable on her own.

I don’t want her to equate playing alone with nobody wants to play with her or be around her. I don’t want her to equate being alone with nobody wants her or likes her.

I take the bossy.

I welcome the bossy.

When she tells me to do something, I give her a look and she uses her manners. I ask her why she can’t do it herself and if it’s a sufficient reply, I’ll do it. If she thinks something is “too hard” I make her try first before I help. We often do a, “Evelynn, stop. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Okay? Try it again,” when she’s frustrated and she is the only obstacle standing in her own way.

And then she nails it.

The child has a speech issue. Still. It’s better but most folks can’t understand everything she says. Hell, I often struggle. It’s a work in progress. However, this hasn’t stopped her from engaging with peers or talking with a stranger at Target. She’s always telling the checkout lady or sir a story. She hasn’t let it deter her.

We have a habit in growing up of losing our curiosity and voice. We’re so scared to tell someone how we feel, that we love them, that we’re happy, that we love ourselves, that we’re sad. We filter everything; in fear they won’t love us back, we don’t want to be seen as conceited, we don’t want to be seen as broken, we don’t want to be labeled. I love that kids have no filter (except when they’re saying something hurtful or doing something harmful, of course).

Evelynn isn’t afraid to tell me how she feels or what she wants. I want that to grow and continue. I want her to know she matters. I want her to foster that imagination. I want her to foster that curiosity. I want her to foster that empathy for others. I want her to keep randomly coming up to me and announcing with pride, “Mom I’m strong,” while pumping her arm muscles on display; or, “Mom, I did it! I’m smart,” when she completes a new 100-piece puzzle; or even, “Mom, I’m beautiful” when she puts on a new dress she likes or wears “flower hair” (braids) she loves.

I want her to know she CAN validate herself. I want her to foster that voice. I want her to know she has the power.

Mar11

Going High Maintenance.

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Can you be a serial dater if you never actually date because you have like a 95% rate of getting stood up?

While most people love the beginning stage, I hate it. I find it tedious. Mostly because it’s difficult to find time and so much easier to skip to when the guy can come over with Evelynn around and I don’t need to worry about scheduling a babysitter or be mindful of time. It’s also difficult because people seem to forget that at that beginning stage, you’re still getting to know someone. You don’t know what makes someone tick or makes them feel insecure, you don’t know their schedule, you don’t understand their joking style. Mostly, you don’t know how honest or dishonest they are.

It’s no secret I seem to be a beacon for the assholes of the world but despite any trust issues I might have, I’m adamant about blank slates. I can’t treat each new guy like a past guy if I’m moving forward in life, so I don’t. However, more often than not, when I allow myself to believe the guy’s excuse, it bites me in the ass and I end up wishing I’d have gone with my gut, trusted history, and not have wasted my time. Red flags exist for a reason.

It’s a disappointing place to be when this is the trend of my dating life.

More disappointing: when you have to tell the guy how to date.

It’s noted somewhere in one of these blogs how I’m not a fan of the rich man. How it’s typically an immediate turnoff for me. Recently, I decided to listen to my old boss and my new boss on giving rich guys a try regardless—it doesn’t always mean manipulation, sometimes it can mean discipline and hard work. Of course, given this is my dating life, I give the rich asshole a chance not a man who happens to be rich.

Twice this dude asks me out and says “Okay, I’ll follow up with you and let you know what works and what the plan is.” Twice he fails to follow through and I don’t hear from him for over a week. Not to mention, he was very unspecific about a time, instead choosing “this weekend” or “later this week” and then wonders why I don’t still have his number in my phone.

I’m the dumbass who let him do so twice.

And who the hell speaks about “following up” for a date?

Sad part: I haven’t actually counted this guy in my Getting Stood Up count because I’m not sure how to qualify it since he asked but without giving a specific time, and he asked twice.

Ugh, what an embarrassment.

And did I mention he’s 34 years old? WHY AM I TELLING A 34-YEAR-OLD HOW TO DATE IN 2019?

Because it’s 2019 and this is dating in 2019.

What happened to dating? You know, when someone has a plan and time already in mind instead of no clue until the night of or without expecting you to drop everything and agree to plans last minute (HI! Single mom here). It’s annoying and I’ll tell you how this attitude towards dating translates: “I’m lazy and not that interested but I’ll ask you out since I’m bored and have no one else to ask.” I should make it a rule to automatically say NO to any guy who can’t just Man Up with a plan but up until now it’s made me feel high maintenance to even think it’s an issue. Apparently, I need to be high maintenance.

Yes, I said Man Up in an overly sensitive society. No, I don’t care.

I’m not asking for a label—I hate them and firmly believe if it doesn’t come naturally, you’re likely either not with the right person or not ready for a relationship. Also, who labels on the first date? I’d run. I’m not asking for flowers—I’m not a girl you buy flowers for. I’ve even dedicated an entire blog to this once. I’m not asking for a fancy dinner—I prefer great conversation over comfort food and some Jack Daniels (or a homecooked meal if it’s not the first time) in a darker lit restaurant. I’m not asking you to play daddy—I don’t even want you meeting Evelynn until I know where I stand with you.

Who made dating so complicated? What happened to simple mutual attractions, hanging out to see if it could go somewhere, and honest communication?

And then there was this weekend. Getting stood up this weekend—number 5 or 6 or 7 depending on how you qualify being stood up—was something entirely differently. Another round of that clear miscommunication and a few yellow flags.

It’s too much.

I allowed myself to be excited. We’d talked enough and I’m a sucker for a great conversation and communication, a strong wit—and someone who calls me on my bullshit. I also allowed myself to cry for about 24 seconds because when does it end? When does the conversations stop ending abruptly with being stood up instead and start to be continued in person?

And because I wanted puppy chow but I gave it up for lent.

I should’ve given up dating for lent.

But this is me we’re talking about, I’m stubborn as hell. Giving up would mean they won, they got to me, they broke me. And I hate that pesky statistic that says 82% of single moms with a daughter remain single. I hate being defined by statistics. I make my own labels.

Looks like I’m going the high maintenance route.

Feb13

Put down the scissors, girl.

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image1 When I first saw this photo, I was physically pained. I’m talking gut clenching, throat constricting, breath catching, eyes burning because I might cry type pain. And every time I look at this photo I have that same reaction. The harsh reality is there are girls who want to do this. There are women who are so into health and fitness because of body image that it impacts their daughters and women around them negatively. There are women who are so depressed with how they look that they let it define their happiness. They base how they feel on how they look instead of how they look on how they feel. Even when they’re doing something about it, they let that inner mean girl just bash every tiny roll or skin imperfection.

It’s difficult to witness.

I’m terrified for my daughter.

I struggle with self-acceptance. As much as I preach about it, I struggle sometimes, too. I have a difficult time taking compliments from people and I hate to admit it’s because of relationships. Our relationships largely define our mindset. They define how we speak to ourselves. The number of times I’ve been cheated on and played, it’s taken a hit on how open I am to dating. I don’t see how the next guy can see something attractive in me that previous guys couldn’t find good enough to stick around.

And it’s created an intense pickiness where I find very few men interest me enough to date.

How we let others treat us mimics how we treat ourselves. I no longer will let a man make me feel insignificant, small, unworthy, boring, incapable, or invisible. I no longer will allow a man to define his interest in me based solely on my body.

This goes beyond just dating, though. Family, friendships, and work place relationships all define how we see and speak to ourselves.

I still can’t get over how a guy I dated long-term never once complimented my worth (without someone telling him to) until I dropped from a size 5 to a size 0, and over 20lbs. Y’all, a size 5, 140lbs. at 5’5” isn’t that big when it’s mostly muscle and ass. I became bone thin. Was the guy waiting for me to cut off my fat?

I was now skinny fat and couldn’t take a compliment to save my life. The term “skinny” had such a rotten taste in my mouth—still does, some days. And his compliment: “You’re the hottest chick here. Don’t break up with me because every girl who does gets fat.” This is why when the only compliment a guy can give me is on my looks, I don’t stick around.

Health is rolls and health is bone. More importantly, health is how you fuel your body with food and activity. Health is how you speak to yourself.

I like people who want to bring me up because I like bringing others up. I want my daughter to be surrounded by people who bring her up. I want people who are in our corner cheering for us.

Behind this girl is a voice that says, “you’re not good enough,” that’s drowning out the voice that’s yelling, “Damnit you are MORE than enough.”

But I’ll fucking shout it: YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH.

Jan30

Single Mom Status Null.

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Single parenting doesn’t really hit you until you’re sick and convinced you’re on your death bed and want everything to disappear. When the only route you want to take is from the bed to the bathroom and back to bed. When you’re a single parent, there’s constant detours and the bed often turns into whichever floor of the room your child is playing in. There’s no sleeping in or going to bed early or naps during the day. It’s just a little shut eye here and there if you’re lucky—dependent on your child’s age.

I’m adamant about parenting not being defined by status but solely the child. I told myself from day one it’s not harder for me because I’m a single parent with 100% custody. I have the same qualifications. I will not be held back. My relationship status doesn’t determine how capable I am of being a great mom. My kid doesn’t suffer from it. It’s 2019 after all. The traditional family dynamics have changed, afterall.

Similarly, being a single mom alone doesn’t make me a super mom. There are plenty of parents who perform the role alone in marriage. Some stay at home and dedicate their entire lives to their children. Simply because I’m a career woman and a single mom does not put me on some higher-level ground. I’ve always hated this thinking. Yet, it’s too common.

My status is simply my circumstance. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t define Evelynn. It certainly doesn’t define other parents.

Let me repeat that: one parent’s circumstance doesn’t define how great of a parent they are, and it doesn’t define how they compare to another parent.

I’m a firm believer that parenting is based on how you love your kid and how you prioritize them. It’s where they hold a place in your heart & in your mind. It’s how being a parent plays a role in making decisions. Money, relationship status, sexuality—none of that matters in defining someone as a parent.

But damn is it hard not to think of the difference when Evelynn or I am sick.

There’s no option to negotiate who will stay home with Evelynn when she’s sick. There’s no someone staying home with her while the other runs to the pharmacy to pick up cold meds. When the thermometer broke on me once, I thought I was going to have a meltdown. The idea of bundling the sick little girl up to weather the cold so I could pick up a new thermometer and more meds was agonizing.

There’s no partner to care for her and take on the role entirely so I can just “rest up” like the doctor ordered because that’s the best cure for any sickness. No, there’s puking outside my car door so I can get Evelynn to pre-K, setting 9 alarms so I don’t miss anything, and taking more sick days than one is likely allotted & fingers crossed my boss is understanding, & working from home when sick or late into the night to make up for everything. I got lucky with that, pursuing a career I can manage from home when demanded has helped tremendously.

I’ve been single for awhile and it never bothers me until I become very ill. I suddenly want to cuddle and watch Harry Potter, Law & Order, or Friends marathons on repeat; need someone to wash my hair because my arms aren’t lifting that high up; have someone run out to grab me meds and Coke because I hate keeping artificial beverages stocked in the home; and have someone make me soup because I’ll be cutting my nails off if I’m given a knife when sick—I get these severe shakes when under the weather.

Basically, for being stubbornly independent, I might as well tattoo “Needy AF” on my forehead when ill.

I tell myself being a single parent doesn’t make parenting any harder, more rewarding, or less stable than if I were to have someone by my side. Truth is, though, I missed an entire week of work due to Evelynn being sick and then me, and now schools are closed because of the weather. Some days it’s difficult to believe the notion single parenting is simply parenting.

I might be the first to label myself as a single mom because I am doing it—parenting alone—and I love breaking labels but parenting is parenting no matter how you status yourself.

 

Nov25

Gaining Pieces.

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I don’t know how to date anymore. I don’t know how to open myself up to someone. More accurately, I don’t know how to let someone in.

I lost pieces of me, each guy taking a small enough piece of me for me to never notice until the other night when I was on a date and I realized I don’t know how to do this.

The reality: I don’t know if I want to date.

Confidence: that was the last piece taken from me. What can this guy possibly see in me to make him choose me.

I don’t easily lack confidence. I know who I am, I like my body, I’m happy with my health, I know I’m good at my job, I know I’m a great mother, I’m comfortable with who I am. I can look at the woman in the mirror and applaud her instead of pick her apart. I am confident with who I am.

I am not confident when it comes to guys wanting me or feeling like I’m enough for someone.

I get asked out a lot and I don’t say yes to many guys. Most guys I turn down will ask me, “Why not just give me one chance? I could turn out to be the one who makes you happy.” They seem to think they can like me enough to make me like them, they can persuade me into liking them. I don’t want someone to have to talk me into liking them, it doesn’t feel genuine and I highly suspect it will lead to doubt and insecurity on their end later on in the relationship. Many guys accuse me of being shallow, that it’s all about looks as to why I’m turning them down. It has nothing to do with body or status.

It’s this magnetism. I hate admitting it’s the knowledge that I’d feel no different if they had never come around. I don’t get excited to tell them big news, I don’t wonder how their day went, I don’t ask them if they want to hang out. That lack of enthusiasm is why I say no.

I remember before Evelynn came along being asked why I could simply forget guys so easily after they betrayed or lied to me; and to me, it was because it was that simple: if they didn’t want me, I didn’t want them. If they couldn’t respect me, I didn’t want them. If I wasn’t enough to be the only girl they saw, I didn’t want them. There was no room for “buts” in there. The philosophy still applied even after Evelynn.

Then I met a guy when I didn’t care, when my guard was down, and I let him just walk right into my life with no reservations. I didn’t plan for him to stick around. He wasn’t meant to be anyone other than just a one-night stand. The rules were simple. I didn’t care what I told him or what he thought of me. I didn’t care if he saw the real me and rejected me because I wasn’t planning on him staying around.

He had other ideas.

& I let him talk me into more than just one-night expectations. I let him talk me into seeing him again.

We didn’t see each other again. He met someone else soon after and it turned out him getting me to want him was just a game to him. All the talking and texting and planning after was just to feed his ego. At the time he had told me he met someone randomly, immediately after me, and they just clicked like nothing else. It wasn’t until recently that I found out it was also all just a game to him. That’s what he said at least.

I know what you’re thinking: stupid, stupid girl. He was kryptonite, though. Where everything you find attractive is in one person and you’re just like damn. Which is why it was to be just one night, I knew I could fall hard and fast…and we’ve already discussed in previous blogs, I’m not one to fall, especially not fast. I never have. And I wasn’t ready to let someone invade my life just yet after I was still dealing with a toddler hung up on the last guy I had seen. I already had hang-ups about dating.

And before you go getting all high and mighty on me for having a one night as a single mom. Well, I’m a single mom. I’m pretty sure I somehow made the first move on him (apparently my “tinder eyes” do work). And this isn’t a common occurrence. However, sometimes, just sometimes, you need to do things for you and that day I decided to live in the moment and fuck the future—no pun intended.

I had no intention of having anything with him but he pursued and I gave in. I can’t get over that. How I could get it so wrong—fucking kryptonite. It’s a mindfuck when people purposefully fuck with your emotions like that, though. That’s where the pain and second-guessing came in. & this wasn’t the first time I had it wrong. This was just months after I had it wrong and that first time, Evelynn was caught in the crossfire.

In early September, Evelynn and I did a weekend road trip out to Lake Michigan—we hadn’t been to the beach yet over the summer—and we saw a couple friends on our way back through Grand Rapids…and we ran into the guy she still sometimes asks about. He didn’t acknowledge her, and what little respect I had left for him disappeared. Her demeanor fell. She was tired, hungry, but her shoulders and face fell. It was like a cloud completely washed over her. She looked down and got busy with a napkin and never looked up. He never said hi to her; this little girl who would beg to go to his house or didn’t want to leave after weekends spent there just less than a year before.

I didn’t think my heart could break more watching her.

Until we left to drive home.

I heard crying in the back seat, then, “Augie no like me. Augie no say hi to me.” She cried herself to sleep. Luckily, in less than five minutes but I couldn’t believe it. All hope of that cloud in the restaurant just being her overtired from the long weekend: shot. All hope that she didn’t really remember him because she was only 3 at the time: gone. All hope that whenever she had asked to go to “Augie’s house” or to see him again that she didn’t know who she was really talking about and just throwing a random name out there because she was only 3 at the time: dead. She remembered exactly who he was.

I came home lost to the dating scene. I had no interest in bringing a guy around Evelynn. I had no interest in bringing a single father and his daughter around Evelynn.

I had no interest.

I stopped trying. I stayed off dating sites. I ignored guys when they asked or it was always a no. Until a few weeks ago when I said yes to a guy, a really great guy with attractive qualities, and I couldn’t stop thinking about just how fucked up dating is in 2018. Or maybe it’s just me. I couldn’t stop wondering how much was an act, how much was genuine, how much interest did he really have?

Pathetic. I have a hard time jumping on the bandwagon of making guys prove just how much they want or like me before I show them any interest—that’s been the advice I’ve been given over the last couple years. Feels like a game to me then. I hate the whole “hard to get” attitudes. I’m not a fucking mouse for you to chase. You’re either in or you’re out. You either like me or you don’t. Magnetism. Mutual magnetism.

Lucky for me I’m still that bounce back queen. I know exactly who I am. It’s been a month—I’m over the pessimism. I won’t lie, that feeling I had that one day: hell yeah I’m going to chase it. That feeling of just giving into someone and letting go because you’re attracted to them, life is short, and fuck the overthinking mind. That used to be my approach before Evelynn came along, used to be why I was asked how I could so easily move on once being into someone. I knew a better feeling would be out there. I wasn’t going to dwell on the hurt.

The way I see it, take all the pieces—with each piece I gain something within myself: resilience, strength, determination, self-respect. And if you think I gave each piece freely, well, takes two to date. Take all the pieces. I might be someone who can’t get out of her heard but I’ll choose magnetism. What’s dating without raw attraction unforced? An arrangement. No thanks. Take all the pieces.

As for that confidence? She back.

Next.

Nov1

No thanks money bags.

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There is nobody who runs faster from a man with money than me. To most girls, a guy who has a sizeable bank account is a plus…or maybe the reason she chooses him. Most fathers want to know their daughters are secure financially and would love for her to date a man with money, albeit a respectful man. Then there’s me. I don’t do guys with money. Nobody swipes left faster on a guy who dresses, acts, or claims to have money than I do. I bolt faster than Usain. Money doesn’t always mean responsible. To me, a man with money equals manipulation, condescension, and disrespect.

I can’t do money, i don’t do professional athletes (retired or not), I can’t do single fathers, I can’t do bums. But only one of those do I find an acceptable excuse to immediately write off a guy. No, I’m not happy that I immediately have reserves about the other two—I don’t like to make a habit of judging, conscious of it or not.

Sometime in the spring of 2017 I went out with a guy who had money. And he never forgot to remind me. He drove from Flint to Chelsea during rush hour—and he didn’t let me forget that either, that’s strike one—to take me out to dinner. He had me download a song that “just spoke to him”: Kane Brown’s Better Place. Said it’s what he wanted to give a girl. Throughout dinner we discussed goals, where we wanted to live one day. And he flat out said: “I’m number two in the world for sales, I’m not fucking moving. You’re going to have to live with being Betty Crocker because I’m not leaving my work unless someone guarantees to match what I’m making and what I’m making is too good for anyone to match. Grand Rapids is out.” First date. First fucking date and this mofo is already telling me where I’m moving to and that I’ll be quitting my job because there’s no way I can make more than him and he wants the wife home with the kids–oh yes, that was said, too.

I couldn’t leave that date fast enough. I had no idea he had money, though a very large part of me believes he was overexaggerating, and I quickly got petty to make it go downhill and for him to be done.

And do I mean petty.

He had a beer gut. He had commented about how he is on some plan to lose weight, who he used to be in college, how a desk job has just given him a belly. I love fitness and health, I’ll talk about it all day, but he disagreed—according to him I knew very little about fitness and lifting (I had difficulty gaining weight then still and was 5’5” weighing 120lbs. and that alone was his argument). I started asking if he really wanted that dessert. Did he really think it was a good idea for his future wife and future health for him to stay “behind a desk” at a sales role? When he mentioned he could run faster than me: “Oh? You can do 120 yards in less than 10 seconds 10 times in a row with only a 60 second break in between, and a mile in less than six minutes?” and I looked him up and down as I said it. He turned red. Oh yeah, I got petty af.

And I’m not proud of it. I’ve never been one to judge someone so blatantly on looks or weight—I don’t even notice weight with people unless they show a change in weight.

PS I’m fast and competitive, don’t tell me I’m not unless you feel like knocking heads with a bull.

One thing to piss me off more than anything with any guy is to attach a monetary value to goals and success and how decisions in a relationship will be made. I may never make as much as him, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have a say in my lifestyle. And he’s sure as hell not going to tell me how to raise my kid whom he’s never met yet.

Don’t preach how you want to give me a picket white fence or city lights, whichever I want, if your job and ego are really making the decision. I’m out.

And it was the FIRST FUCKING DATE. Did I mention that? Way too soon to be talking. Yikes.

Yet, this wasn’t the first incident or the first guy to turn me away from money.

I’ll never forget when I passed the test. I was dating a guy who was a firm believer in not going dutch—he paid, every time, and I was not to argue about it. I’m fairly neutral about this. I am always willing to pay and I make it known but it doesn’t bother me who pays until it’s something expensive. Like a road trip, sports game, concert, hotel, and bar hopping all within 24 hours. This time I didn’t just offer a couple times, I put my foot down. His response: “Good. You passed the test.” What? He was happy to find out I wasn’t with him for money. Let’s be clear, he had a stable income and made more than me—wasn’t hard, I was a full-time server with a 22-credit college load—but he was by no means wealthy. Our relationship didn’t last long after that weekend.

He may have been able to trust me but I lost trust in him.

Rule of thumb: I don’t want to know you have money until we’re months in, when we both know it’s not about the money.

Money is not a conversation I care to discuss.

I won’t even ever choose to have a first date in a nice restaurant.

I won’t get in a car with a guy who drives a very nice car as a means to show off his finances.

I don’t accept flowers from guys who buy them out of ease and regularity because he was getting them for his mother so why not get them for his girl, too. Stop. Don’t. I’d rather no gift at all.

Let me know you want to know me. Don’t bribe me and treat me like another accessory to your perfect white picket fence life. If I’m so replaceable for you to buy the next girl, I’d rather you not even look my way.

It’s crazy to me how folks are so surprised to learn that I love camping and the outdoors because they’ve somehow pegged me as this luxury gal…until they know me. I don’t need money, I’m more interested in connecting with a guy. Money might bring security but it’s never been my language.  I want to know that if the money were to all disappear, the guy would still stick around and be interested. I want to know he’s not trying to dress me with his money as just another means to impress others. I want to know his money isn’t how he identifies himself. It’s sure as hell not how I identify myself.

Besides, I’m a girl who has a borderline phobia to commitment. Any commitment. The only commitment I’ve ever been able to make is to motherhood. I’m not about to commit myself to green dyed paper.

Aug11

The Ambitious Factor.

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It is so terribly hard to be single in a society that wants you to be with someone, especially as a single mom. Everyone wants me to end up with someone. Everyone wants me to have a guy to “take care” of me and my daughter. Everyone wants me to have someone to share my life with and build a life with. The truth: yes, I would love that too, but not so bad that I’m willing to settle for it.

My boss and I at least once a month seem to catch up on my dating life. He likes to make sure I keep a stable head and not jumping into relationships with guys who aren’t worth my time. These chats typically happen after he’s been gone a week on a golf trip or after I blog and he’s like “What the fuck, Tiffany? What were you thinking talking to that guy?” I know, folks think it’s weird my boss and I can have such conversations openly and candidly but honestly, I need that dose of reality and from someone I respect. It’s a nice change from everyone else trying to set me up with guys that I’m not at all interested in. Which leads me to my latest dating tip from my boss because he actually nailed the one thing that’s holding me back from dating a lot of guys: ambition.

There are a few traits that I often find attractive in guys that are a total weakness to me: trimmed beards, athletic, willingness to help others, outgoing, respectful, great with kids, drives a truck, tattoos, not a scrub, enjoys the country, blah blah blah. But until that conversation, I didn’t even know why I had this feeling in my bones that kept holding me back from giving guys a try the last few months.

Very rarely do I meet men who are as ambitious as me (I know, my ego is unreal). It seems people are so easily okay with just settling in life and I’m not. People so badly want a 9-5 job and leave it at that. I don’t. I’ve never worked just 40 hours a week in my life, I think. And I can never just “leave my work” at the office. I get bored. I get antsy. My mind is always going. I need to work 50 hours at the minimum to even remotely feel like I’m going somewhere with my career…and that’s the kicker, I always want to be going somewhere. I’m not thrilled with the idea of dating a guy who doesn’t have goals outside of fitness and travel. “Travel the world” doesn’t mean a lot to me unless there’s a reason behind it—write a book, learn and embrace new culture, participating in charity. And when it comes to fitness….I can’t really get behind the “I just want to be bigger” mentality.

Give me a guy who wants to do something with his life.

I also can’t get behind the whole Netflix marathon shit and sleeping the weekend away. I dated a guy last fall where Saturdays were spent in bed—get your mind out of the gutter, he slept the day away typically and I either worked or read or left for a few to just get out. Being stagnant isn’t something I’m good at. I don’t have it in me. I don’t mind a Netflix marathon for a night or a day but not every weekend. Most nights I don’t get to bed until after 11pm and I’m up by 5am the next day—that’s being conservative, too—and then I’m go go go all day. Weekends might be a tad slower but I’m always making moves. I have no plans to slow down, I want someone to move with me….and not have to hold their hand.

And here we have the first lie of the bunch: ambitious people who don’t make moves. Talk about an oxymoron. Folks who have these goals and talk about going places and where they want to be but don’t take action. I’m a firm believer in will power and mind over matter. You just get up and do. You can talk all day about your goals and how you’re going to get there but until you work for them, you’re not going anywhere.

How do I find motivation? I force myself. “No” isn’t an option. Not succeeding isn’t an option. Not getting shit done, isn’t an option. I don’t want to hear about how you’re going to be a sales leader or own your own company one day but then constantly complain about working or turning down opportunities left and right to actually go somewhere. Please keep the negativity and laziness outside of my bubble.

Mostly, I’m waiting for the guy who wants to motivate me. Support is one thing, respect is another thing, but motivating goes a long way. It’s empowering. Help me get up at 5am so I can workout before work. I don’t want the guy who wants me to come back to bed or wants me to come out to the bar every night. Push me to be better. Call me out on shit that isn’t benefiting me. Hell, a guy who calls himself out on shit, that’s hot.

Have high standards.

I’ve been called shallow because I won’t date guys who don’t care about their health. High standards, health is important to me. I’m big into fitness and eating healthy and having a positive mind because I want to be around for a while for my kid. I show up.

I show up everyday for myself and for my kid. Everyday. Whether she’s with me or not. No matter how tired I am I get up out of bed. No matter how late it is I will get my workout in before the day is over. I will squeeze in the run to the grocery store so Evelynn has her berries and cheese and peanut butter, even if it means carrying her with one arm throughout the store as she naps. At times, I run myself thin to get shit done but I don’t regret it. I haven’t yet because I know one day it will all pay off.

I told myself I was going to be strong and lead by example. I told myself I was going to be selfish with my life and time because if Evelynn ever grew up and found herself in my situation, a single mom, I want her to do the same. I don’t want her to give up on her goals. I don’t want her to get lost on the couch and give up because life got hard and it can be lonely. Hell no. I would want her to chase her dreams and go after life. I would want her to have goals. I would never want her to settle for a man because society told her she needs to “end up with someone.”

I would want her to show up and be somebody, not coast through life. And I’m not willing to take time away from her or away from my goals to give guys who aren’t ambitious a try.

I think I’ll keep my high standards even if it means I’m “missing out” on love in my twenties and growing old with someone.

May4

I’d Rather Wait.

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The latest dating news: I’m high maintenance. Label courtesy of a guy I’ve never met.

Last weekend a guy I hadn’t even talked to much wanted to meet up, and by meet up I mean he wanted me to drive 45 minutes or so to his house. When I told him I don’t meet guys for the first time at their place of residence, the conversation went downhill fast. It’s simply not something I’m comfortable with when I first meet the guy off a dating app. I’m a mom. A policeman’s daughter. I’m not stupid. It’s a rule of mine to meet the guy in a public place—isn’t this normal? Let’s be honest, even if the guy was to drive to me, I don’t want him knowing where I live.

So we got in a little argument.

His defense: He’d meet me outside and we’d drive into downtown together. Apparently, it’s what “normal people” do. Good thing I’ve never cared to be “normal.”

He continued to say, and I’ll quote because yes, he asked me out via social media not via a phone call so I actually still have the message (I really need to learn to delete things regularly): “And no, I’m sorry but you’re to much and to high maintenance. You live at home and have a child, which nothing wrong with that. But damn, you’re way to high maintenance lol geez.”

  1. Glad he uses the proper “you’re” so props there.
  2. It’s too bad he can’t get the to vs. too straight.

You can bet your ass I told him he doesn’t stand a chance with me….after I may have told him if that’s his definition of high maintenance then he’s a little too selfish for me. Like I said, I’m a mom. I’ve already dealt with a few crazies. I do try to be smart about dating, no matter how dumb my choices in guys I seem to go after.

Is this real life, though? How many folks are willing to meet someone for the first time at home, without having much of a conversation with them prior? It’s a crazy concept to me. I can understand if you have mutual friends or you’ve been talking for a few weeks and have stalked them on social to verify or met in public prior or have roommates over when arrives…but hello hives and twisted gut. Maybe I’ve heard too many human trafficking stories and read too many crime novels, watched one too many Criminal Minds episodes.

Not to mention there’s that last blog post where I said the guy would have to prove himself. I wasn’t joking. Like hell I’m driving 45 minutes last minute—oh yes, forgot that detail, he really set himself up for failure here—to meet a guy at 9pm who hasn’t tried to hold a conversation prior to meeting. I’d rather be asleep or reading.

So here’s my latest dating thought and tip, from a girl who’s notoriously single: wait. Just wait for the person who is willing to work with you. Whether it’s to meet up for the first time or years into the relationship. Wait. You should want to give in to the person you’re committed to, make sacrifices for them, but they should simultaneously be wanting to do the same thing. It’s that selfless love that lasts, or so I like to believe. Wait for the person who wants to understand how your mind works and works to break down your defenses. When you meet a guy for the first time, it’s often the best impression you’ll get from them. Sometimes it’s just an impression, an act. Other times, if you’re lucky, it’s a glance into who they really are and a future.

Wait for the one who is willing to put you first and let you shine. Who wants to dream alongside you and know you fearlessly. If the guy really wants to meet you, he won’t force you into an uncomfortable situation. Wait for the one who is willing to wait for you (but don’t keep him waiting for long because then you’re the asshole).

Apr27

From selfless to selfless goals.

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I’ve always thought love should be selfless but the older I get the more I realize people feel entitled to be selfish. Too hurt in the past—maybe they were cheated on or lied to—they suddenly feel as though they’re entitled to do the same to others. Yet, entitled to complain or get enraged when done to them again. If they were stood up a few times they suddenly believe they can stand others up. If they’re dating more than one girl at a time, they’re suddenly upset one of the girls is also talking to other guys. If they find out their girl cheated on them, they go out and cheat instead of breaking it off or confronting their girl. Suddenly, they just roped a likely innocent person into the fucked-up relationship.

I’m not talking about people being selfish with their own hearts—I can understand being hesitant or putting up walls—I’m talking about selfish with others’ hearts.

It’s tempting to join them: the entitled millennials who believe dating is nothing more than a game. Except the way I’m made up, I can’t not be honest. If a guy asks me if I’m also dating someone else, I’ll admit to it. It’s natural to “date around” at the beginning.

My boss and I always fall into a discussion about my dating life at least twice a month. He likes to check up on me and make sure I’m not wasting time with a dud. He’s like the older protective brother I never quite wanted. In our last conversation I confessed I’m dating around. As in I’m doing the multiple guys thing. I refuse to give one guy all my time and attention until they’ve earned it. I’m tired of being the selfless one who makes the drive, who takes the time away from my daughter, who switches around my schedule only for them to never do the same. It’s embarrassing to realize at the end of dating someone how much you gave them and how little they gave you, even if you never asked or it was never expected—it should be natural. I’ve always been slow to commit or vocalize a relationship, I prefer to get to know the person before we’re official (also, jinxes). Yet, somehow, I’ve always let the guy choose the pace of the relationship. Typically, I chalk this up to my go with the flow personality.

Not anymore.

This last week, I admitted to the boss three guys bit the dust in two weeks—five guys in four weeks. Whether it was from me realizing they were wasting my time, them cancelling because of a change of mind, them standing me up, or me realizing we were better off as friends. If it’s one thing I am, it’s honest. I’m not afraid to tell a guy I think we’re better off as friends, that I don’t see a future with him.

So why can’t these guys do the same?

I’m so sick of the clichés: I’m not ready, I don’t want a relationship now, it’s not you it’s me, blah blah blah. Only for them to turn around and commit to the next girl they meet. I have so much more respect for the guy who comes out and says, “I’m sorry but I don’t see it working out with you.” That’s the line I give along with why—is that heartless? I thought it was honest, but what do I know?

Don’t try to make plans with me three months in the future when we’re just getting to know each other.

Which brings me to my next pet peeve: promises. Promises were made to be broken, I’m convinced. When it’s March and the guy is talking about doing things in the summer when we’ve only just begun to hang out, I tune him out. I’ve been conditioned to not believe a guy until we’re actually in a relationship.

That’s sad and pathetic. And I’ll be the first to admit I hate that about me. I would love to believe a guy and take him at his word but I’ve become a total skeptic.

If a guy wants me to make room for him in my life because let’s be honest, I’m a busy gal, he’s going to have to work for it. I’m not opposed to trusting a guy or making them a priority, I’m just done making it easy or being so selfless.

Don’t worry, I still have hopes for one day finding that selfless love. This is me we’re talking about and we all know I can be quite stubborn in my beliefs.

Apr25

Another one bites the dust.

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I’ve always thought lying was the rudest form of disrespect. I think it’s why I don’t handle rejection well or why it hurts when stood up: there was never any intention to show, it was all a game. I’m not disappointed over the guy—four out of five times I’m just like “oh well, who’s next?”—I’m upset I wasted my time, I’m upset they didn’t respect me enough to be upfront about their intentions, I’m annoyed I became a pawn in their need for attention when I genuinely wanted to get to know them and see where things went…preferably not to the playing field.

A couple months ago I posted a poll on social, wondering if dating was even worth weeding through all the fuckboys, the games & lies: hate love or love love? It was crazy some of the responses I received but those that stood out the most: a number of guys felt the need to advise me on dating guys who were “uglier” than me. They told me how repeatedly dating good looking guys will never lead to a satisfying relationship, I’ll never be more than arm candy and I’ll never be respected or treated like a princess. I’ll continue to be cheated on, lied to, and played.

Well one, I’m a fucking queen. And I once read that historically speaking, queens are much more powerful and successful without a king—I’m at a point of agreeing with this sentiment.

Two, didn’t know I was that shallow. To my knowledge, I’ve never dated or even been with a guy based on looks. Their looks may have attracted me to them, but it was the following conversations and their ability to make me laugh that made anything go farther than a “hello.” If I wasn’t excited to talk to them or see them, I wasn’t interested. Looks be damned.

Three, what does this say about me? They’re either calling me 1) ugly because beautiful people apparently can’t be honest or a good partner, or 2) a cheater because if I’m the better looking one, I can’t respect my partner. Fucking absurd.

I’ve never equated looks with attitude and morals.

And for the record, I’ve never cheated. I know how it feels to be cheated on, I don’t wish that disrespect and rejection on anyone.

It’s repulsive how people can assume someone’s behavior based on looks. Judge much?

I don’t know how many times over the years I’ve heard people tell me they thought I would be a bimbo or a dancer (you know the kind) simply based on my name. Recently, I had someone tell me their favorite picture of me was one of me being a goof because it proved I can be freehearted when my “beauty” would typically make me a stuck-up bitch. It had nothing to do with the resting bitch face I suffer from but specifically his belief that gorgeous women were crazy bitches (he later stood me up, so who’s really the asshole here?). I was like 1) I’m not that pretty, and 2) I can be a total bitch if you piss me off right. Just ask the exes I refuse to acknowledge.

Regarding that poll, I haven’t fully decided if it’s worth it. I know it’s not worth any toxic relationship or being with someone who blatantly disrespects me. I know it’s not worth subjecting my daughter to. Maybe, sometime, I’ll find out why it’s worth it. Until then, I’ll let these guys just bite the dust.