The Not-So-Glamorous Dating Life of a Single Mom

Well, I'll admit that my dating life has never been "glamorous", before or after Isaac came along.  Before Isaac, I dated my high school sweetheart (and had a short-lived engagement) before we realized that we had nothing in common, except for the fact that we had known each other since before puberty.  Then I dated the Marine who got discharged because he did Ecstasy with some Japanese girls in Okinawa.  Then came the schmuck who loved himself more than anyone else.  And last but not least, Isaac's daddy.  Don't even get me started on that.  So, even in my early 20's, before pregnancy gave me a muffin top, before diapers and skidmarks and snot, I was a dating failure. 

Fast forward to 5 years later.  I'm still terrible at it.  Blond-haired, blue-eyed baggage or not.  I've done the online dating thing more times than I care to admit in the last 4 or so years.  After several "relationships" that stemmed from online dating, including one disastrous engagement (yup, I've been engaged TWICE), I finally gave up and deleted my profile and haven't looked back since.  Even when my friend (who shall remain nameless) highly recommended that I try out sugardaddy.com.  "You'll be taken care of, and all you have to do is be his arm candy!"  Classy. 

Some people have had a lot of success with online dating, like those sickening people on the eHarmony commercials.  But I have NOT had that kind of success.  Most dating profiles contain at least one piece of information that you will later find out is a flat-out lie.  Not all of them; I've dated some honest people and my profile was completely truthful (at least, as far as I recall).  But there's the guy who claimed to be a sports fan to woo me, but never wanted to watch hockey.....during the PLAYOFFS!  What kind of hockey fan doesn't watch the Stanley Cup Playoffs?  Pretend fans who are trying to date hockey fans, that's who.  Another guy claimed to be "single" (as in never married), but it turns out I would've been #3.  I dodged that bullet!  Not to say that all online daters lie, or even that people you meet OFFline always tell the truth.  You'll find dishonest people anywhere.  I just decided that online dating wasn't the best route for me.  

So where else would a single mom without a social life meet a potential significant other?  Work?  I work with kids and women.  The grocery store?  Unless I'm looking smokin' hot that day (which is unlikely since I tend to shop in sweats on a Sunday morning), they'll change their minds and go to the next aisle as soon as they hear my child scream, "YOU NEVER GET ME ANYTHING!!"  Starbucks?  I gotta say, there are some fine specimen that have been in line in front of me at Starbucks, particularly men in uniform....and they're ALL married.  I check.  Every time.  So instead of bothering to make eye contact with them, I just gaze at their butts and pretend that my sexy, imaginary, police officer hubby is buying me a latte.

One place that has been suggested to me by many people is the gym.  "Hey, at least you'll know they're semi-healthy."  This crossed my mind as I pulled up to the gym on Monday.  Not that I was man-hunting that day.  I was most definitely not on the lookout, but I decided to consider it as an option during my visit.  It didn't take me long to realize that if I'm going to attract someone at the gym, I have a 90-second window.  That is how long it takes me to walk in the front door, check in, and walk up the stairs to the treadmill.  Once I'm on the treadmill, all bets are off. 

Within a few minutes of beginning my 3.1 mile run, I'm no longer even remotely irresistible or date-worthy.  I'm panting like a dog in labor, my face is as red as a tomato, and I'm sweating in places I'VE never even seen.  Add that to the fact that I've been told that I run like Phoebe Buffay from Friends, I'm pretty sure there is nobody behind me waiting for the opportunity to ask for my number.  And if they happen to be able to hear Fresh Beat Band blaring from my headphones (What? It's a catchy song!), I lose another 10 points.  At the end of my 5k run, I VERY slowly step off the treadmill so as not to fall on my face.  Then I walk to the stationary bike.  Not to ride it, but to sit on it for 10 minutes until I can safely walk down the steps to leave.  When I stand up, as if I haven't already given you an image of the utmost sexiness, I leave a butt-print of sweat on the bike.  Hot.  I shakily descend the staircase and walk across the gym towards the front door.  I look around at the men working out.  Some of them glance in my direction, but in more of a "I hope that girl doesn't have a stroke in front of me" kind of way rather than a "Oooh, she's hot and I want to ask her out" kind of way.  My 90-second window has long since passed. 

I guess I'll just have to hope that my sister has another disabling episode of vertigo so that I can escort her to see her handsome ENT. Take one for the team, sis!