I used to pride myself on being a decent judge of character.

...particularly in the dating world. Maybe it's because I've been out of the loop for so long? Or maybe it is because since I carry around the single mom stamp on my forehead, some men see that as an open invitation for "oh look. sex."

Funny, charming, seemed very sweet at first. Kept wanting to go out, I had to keep changing plans, and last Saturday, when the wee shit was being kept occupied by the ex, I nipped out and met him for a few pints. He had told me he was a bit of a flirt, but "always a gentleman" and "I'd never make you feel uncomfortable".

Okay, fine, Mr. Charming. It wasn't you, per se, making me "feel uncomfortable", it was the fanatical staring between you and the woman sitting at the bar. At one point, after getting up, I was ready to tell her to sit down at my table and keep him company. But pouring rain, no sign of a coffee shop around, and the fact that tensions were high between the ex and I since he was dumbfounded that I had actually told him he would have to (gasp) MAKE DINNER for the wee shit, kept me sitting at the table and drinking my watered down pint.

And next, we have the "emergency text message from boss. Have to leave". Mmmmm. Fabulous. We walk out, I get a big hug and the "call me". Headed home, I was willing to bet for CERTAIN that I'd never hear from him again, thank you very much, nor would I want to without a lot of explanation.

Did I get an explanation? Was I flabbergasted when he contacted me again, wondering if I wanted to go out again? Oh, let me clarify that. He doesn't want to 'go out again'. He thinks it would be great to have a single mom around during the day for some "opportunistic fun". Because, after all, single moms (and women in general) just loooooooove the feeling of being used as an available option. Because, after all, "you are quite good looking and well, yeah. You'd probably be good for some lays"

I've been banging my head against the wall about this one. Did NOT see it coming at all; no hints, no ideas, NOTHING that lead to the kicker of "I've always thought it would be hot to have a single mom around to give me blow jobs on short notice". Oh, pardon me while I run out and plan a babysitting schedule around your oral needs.

But, at least it's nice to know that single women with children have become the equivalent of the 1970s peep show: available, cheap and seedy.


I didn't yell at him, I didn't send a long lecture as there would be no point. I just deleted, moved on, and snuck into watch the wee shit sleep. There's no way in HELL I'm raising a son to send him out into the world, go on dates, stare at other women...and not even pay for the dates pint!

Island Fun

Oh, sunny, bright island fun - how I've missed you!

Mama needed some serious adult time after the past two weeks so mama coerced granny to look after wee shit for a few hours while mama went island adventuring.

Wee shit is snoring away, I'm still humming and NOT feeling guilty. And now the question needs to be asked: how many times does a booty call make to become a FWB or regular occurence? I need a rulebook, damn it! Relationships and one night stands were simple: sex was uncomplicated.

Bah. I'm analyzing too much. For the first time in years (yes, years) sex is playful and FUN. Why am I even attempting to categorize the quantity? If I was smart and if this past year has taught me anything (beside the fact that I'm a hell of a lot stronger than I ever thought I could be), sometimes I just have to throw my hands up in the air and let things just HAPPEN. Disssecting and labelling is just going to cause one big ass headache.

Am I ready for another relationship? Who the hell knows? Am I ready to feel like a normal, sexual being again? To both desire and to be desired? HELL YEAH.

amazon queen.

*hiccups*

All right. So I am writing this post after two lovely, lovely strongbow ciders (I'm a cheap drunk, what can I say??)

Going out just kind of fell into my lap this late afternoon. After the usual antagonistic text messages with the ex having to do with the fact that I feel I can't count on him and then the reply that if I could have said "no" when he wanted to skip Monday's visit (bangs head against keyboard)....I knew I just needed to get out.

Oddly enough, another one of online boys just happened to sign in shortly after I did this afternoon - and he's never online during the day. Put the idea out there for a drink or two this eve, he was up for it, and off I went -once I informed the ex that he's a father in name only and this cancelling of visits is ridiculous. Told a small white lie for my reason for going out (a post partum group, didn't you know?) and left angered, upset, tense and frustrated. All things that require a good pint.

Pints were fabulous. Company was enjoyable; we have similiar music tastes, are the same age, speak the same "I graduated university in the 1990s" language. Very understanding that I was on a curfew so walked with me to the subway.

And here is where the problem arose. I was aware he was shorter than I was, in flats. A quick hug on the subway plaftform and I realized how much shorter: he's hobbit sized. At the pub he was sitting down when I came in and I'll blame the strongbow on the fact that I didn't take a really good look at him when he would use the facilities. Pocket sized.

All right. So I'm superficial.. Yell all you want. I don't mind a bending down to give a hug, but an all out crouch? Enough to make this already ungraceful and ungainly woman feel downright massive.

and now...another decision....But at least the wee shit is asleep, curled up to his stuffie and looking mighty sweet. He's allowed to be hobbit sized when he's that adorable.

...and here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.

I must be a terrible mother.

I spent almost an entire day childless and didn't feel guilty once. Sure, I worried if the ex was going to be able to survive putting the wee shit to bed without my assistance, but I actually did not find my thoughts wandering to the wee shit every five minutes.

Am I any less a devoted mother for enjoying a movie date with the endearingly dorky young un' and then pretending to watch the superbowl with a friend? ( I say pretending because the evening just involved pints, snacks, and laughing hysterically at the reactions in the pub). I'm just going to chalk it up to the fact that - WARNING....WHINE ALERT.....I just don't have time to relax with friends or anyone else that can string a few sentences together lately. the ex is always 'working' and having to reschedule his visits last minute so I don't have the time to make plans. END OF WHINE. WE WILL NOW RESUME REGULAR PROGRAMMING.

And to the topic of the 'young un'. He's puppydoglicious and i'm not normally a fan of that. There is something about him that makes me want to rub his head and offer soothing words of "that's a good boy". Hey, it's not a bad thing, really! He appears to be sweet, dorky (something that I have a fondness for), obviously intelligent and possibly requiring a bit of mothering?
Oh god, no. no. no. Mothering is not what I'm ideally hoping for at the moment. My hormones aren't exactly screaming at me, "you need a back rub".

But despite all this, I'd like to see him again? Hmmm. Maybe I have hope for something underneath the shaggy sweet little puppy dog.

An introduction, an education...

I was whining to a friend that all the 'mommy' blogs I've read seem to be strictly of the wife or long term partner variety. When asked why don't I start writing one, I had to pause and think; well, why not? A single mom of a little one (who tries not to whack her ex with the wooden spoon when he's over visiting the little guy); a single mom who is venturing out into the dating hell hole again - hell, you KNOW there's some truly odd stories ready to surface.

And odd, they have been.

Let me give you a quick introduction. I'm a (cough cough) 30something single urban mom. I use urban in the fact that I live in a city, not in any annoyingly cool and hipster mom way. I have a wee shit who I adore and that I'm raising on my own. Let's just say pre-natal classes can prepare you for almost anything except for one major point: your long term (and supportive) partner will flip out, leave...and decide that he 'thinks he might be happy' with a annoyingly clingy (and not nearly as attractive - of course) woman who shall now after be referred to as The Twat.

But, enough of that. Karma, baby. Karma. I've seen it in action since he left and Karma is definitely one bad ass bitch who slaps her foes around. I have moments, where I whine, pout, mope, which is only natural but a quick head shake and a realization how miserable the ex is quickly snaps me out of it.

Add to the fact that for some reason, the dating world seems to have improved vastly from my last time around, six years ago. Am I less picky? Am I just insanely horny now that the hormones are rolling back to normal? Or is it the fact that a 30something year old woman NOT looking for a husband is a dating holy grail?


Oh yes. Just to clarify. There are no regrets about the little shit. He's annoyingly cute, annoying stubborn and more and more I see that he is annoyingly me.