Single moms dating diary
Back at his apartment, there was just enough red wine and good lighting to make me feel like a goddess. He played guitar; he sang songs I didn’t know, too, with a gusto that gave me a feeling of permission to wildly express myself in this little world we were creating. We went outside and played in the pouring rain like toddlers. We had incredible conversations about philosophy, work, jealousy, and more. Anyways, thanks readers, for doing what you do, and letting me tell you my dream date story. I promise, I’ll get it out of my system so we can get back to interesting and fun things tomorrow.At a few points, he’d thrust a harmonica or a violin at me to solo (both of which I happened to used to love to play a million years ago when I was in high school). He serenaded me in candlelight, a song he’d written on his guitar. But today, I had that ‘cry in the car’ kind of day, and each of my friends and siblings have done their patient duty of listening to me prattle this already month, and now it’s your turn, dear readers.And that is what I call complicated, messy, sexy happiness. Driving in his car to the small airport, we conversed about passionate living, death, and friendship. It was so fun to feel the weight of it and heave with my weight against it to get it rolling.
As it turned out, the landing was one of the most graceful things I’ve ever experienced in a plane. Waiting in the wide open field while he shut some things down, I burst into a free, ranging, dance, leaping, turning, and cartwheeling. (I’d show the pics to you, but then I’d have to kill you). I’d like to learn to bring facets of our pleasant dream into my waking single life, to become my own muse and inspiration.
(When I’m a happy camper, open spaces naturally do that to me.) It’s been a tough few years, going through divorce and before that, an awful struggle of a dying relationship. I haven’t seen that part of me much during these rough times. I felt so alive, and grateful for the experiences we’d just shared that helped me remember my awesomeness. To, increasingly, live my single mama life with the sophistication and passion I see in you, dear Adonis. XO, Molly Undercover I’m going to need to be complainey here just for a minute, ok?
I told Tim, as we biked through the city that we were basically living my perfect day–thrifting, biking, good food, and being with a loved one. He’s at the same school he started at when he was three, and it’s crazy to see how all the kids have changed in what feels like literally a FEW years to me. “I like to look good and be clean, just for myself. I arrived at apartment, an old victorian place full of patina. If that conversation had been the whole date, it would have been a dream in itself! In a move that I thought was quite considerate, he took some time to explain the science behind how tough it would be to crash the thing.
Yeah, I’ll always have my memory of the perfect date with Adonis, but what’s way more important, I’ll always remember the joy of spending time like this day with Tim. Whether I ever settle down into something stable again some day, or stick with a string of passionate encounters, I’ll always have myself, too. Even if someone beautiful wasn’t about to come over I’d feel the same. His artwork, books, musical instruments, and antique furniture filled the high-ceilinged rooms. I held off, for now, and he wouldn’t drink yet either, because he’d have to fly. But that wasn’t the end at all, it continued to develop like a seven-course meal. Each laying hold of a wing, we pushed the craft out to the open field beside the runway.
I don’t need an overgrown child hanging around, thank you! I got excited, it seems we had something in common! But, as I pressed, I realized he was avoiding answering my questions about it his family life. When you’re trying to help your besties (or blog readers) keep date-people stories straight without the benefit of faces, nicknames help.