WHAT IS IT LIKE DATING AFTER DIVORCE?
Recently, my boyfriend of three years asked me a question that ignited a memorable debate. The conservation went like this:
Him: “Do you think you still would have gone out with me if you weren’t divorced with kids?”
Me: “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Him: “Well, if you didn’t have kids, you’d have way more options.”
Me: “I feel slightly insulted by this question.”
Him: “It’s insulting to me, sweetie, not you! I’m saying that you’re clearly out of my league and probably settled for me because most guys won’t date a woman with three kids.”
Me: “I see. Having kids lowered my ‘market value.’”
Him: “Not to me, obviously. I love that you’re a mom. I’m saying it would freak most guys out, so you’re basically stuck with me.”
(A pic of Paris Hilton with a ton of baggage because I don’t want to post my kids.)
Even before I was divorced, I had the kind of baggage that repels certain dudes. For years, my Wikipedia page led with the fact that I’m a “former exotic dancer.” It was literally in the first sentence! Diablo Cody (born Brook Busey) is a former exotic dancer etc. etc. Luckily, my brother edits Wikipedia pages as a hobby and after many attempts, he succeeded in having that information moved down to the “Career” section. (To be clear, I’m not ashamed of that description, but I don’t think at this stage of my life it should be the lede. It’s also not accurate, because, as the great Cristal Connors once said, “If it’s at the Cheetah, it’s not dancin’.”)
Point being, it’s been a very long time since I was able to enter a relationship with someone and not have my reputation precede me in some way. Even when I met Dan back in 2008, I was already divorced and highly Google-able. So honestly, I don’t remember what it’s like to date without a proverbial scarlet letter on display. By the time I'd been divorced twice, I was basically draped in red flags like some kind of raggedy-ass matador: Multiple divorcee. Three kids. History of mental illness, substance abuse, love addiction, and general impulsivity. Sordid digital footprint. And, most appallingly, over 40. (Jump scare!)
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