Spilling

I have been dating for a few months now. I swear when it happens, it happens in huge waves. I've really hit it off with a few only to have it fizzle out, and one time I even paid for someone else's meal -- involuntarily. It seems all hit and miss, but generally, when it rains, it pours for me, and I've been saturated with requests for time away from my children, almost all of which I denied.

I don't have a lot of time for this sort of thing, so I've been putting it off or cramming it in when I can, mostly during work hours. In all honesty, it feels like I'm married and cheating when I'm doing this, sneaking around to keep the kids out of the loop. Having an infant and going about this was not my idea, but it's the best advice I ever got from a friend-who-is-a-therapist, and I pay her so that makes her a therapist-who-is-a-friend, really.

This dating has made me forget all about Joe, which was the purpose of it all. My sister stopped trying to keep track of all the names, and I lost a good friend because she disagreed with this approach and told me to "get some friends" and get over men.

Which is probably a good idea, to get over men, but the fact that I have friends I hang out with regularly and wasn't really looking to get over men in the broad, general sense, she and I parted ways. I guess I'm wired like every other 30-something single mother who would like to find happiness, got it, lost it, and isn't scared to try again.

So, in all this "trying to forget about Joe" mayhem, I settled down into a few comfortable friendships. OK, "a few" is overstating it. "Friendships" is understating it. But I was comfortable with them for what they were: Connections that served different needs, mutual needs... like eating lunch and whatnot... with all that free time I have in between going out for gas and getting back to the office.




And then I met Tom.