When my sons Owen and Sam, then 7, met their dad’s new girlfriend, Owen asked me if I had a boyfriend. “No,” I said, then added, “Do you want me to have a boyfriend?”
“Yes,” he replied, “so he can be here when we’re not.”
Their dad and I separated when the boys were 2. At the time, my only concern was getting through the day with two babies and a full-time job. At the end of the day, when the boys were in bed, I would plop down on the couch and cry from sheer stress and exhaustion. When the boys turned 4, I had a better grip on things and put a dating profile online:
“I’m your basic latte-toting, minivan-driving, yoga-pants-wearing (though I don’t do yoga), NPR-listening working mom holding it together with caffeine during the day and a glass of wine after dinner, and liberal doses of humor throughout. You should message me if: you have serious intentions but approach life in a lighthearted way; you’re kind and have a good sense of humor; you know the theme song to “The Lego Movie”; you are George Clooney.”
I had several first looks at Demitasse, my go-to coffeehouse for online meetings. If it looked promising, first real dates were at my local tapas bar, Xuntos, which I liked because it was lively and fun. However, no sparks ignited until I received a very nice message from Bill, a retired financial consultant with young-adult children. When he said he was a fan of “the examined life,” my writer’s heart tilted a little.
We wined and dined at the Westside’s finest — Locanda Portofino, Osteria Mozza, Barrique — each setting was achingly intimate and perfect for advancing romance. On Valentine’s Day, he surprised me with a dinner at Capo, a grand romantic gesture that bowled me over. It was going so well that we decided to go away together to Ojai and drove up the coast to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco, where he met a few of my friends. There were no red flags. I decided to introduce him to my kids.
“Do you know what dating is?” I asked them.
“Yes,” Sam said. “It’s when you go to a nice restaurant, like with a beautiful view, and there are heart emojis floating above your heads.”
“Well, yes, it’s something like that,” I said. “Dating is when you’re getting to know each other so you can decide whether you want to be boyfriend/girlfriend.”
On a hot summer afternoon, Bill came over, and after saying hi, the boys asked him to play water guns. They ran around shooting at one another, squealing in delight.
Then Sam went to refill his pistol. Bill sneaked up and doused him with water. Sam went ballistic. “You are not supposed to shoot when refilling!” he screamed. “Those are the rules!”
Then he ran inside.
After a few minutes, Sam emerged with a feather duster. He dipped it in water and began to smear the water on Bill’s leg. Bill got angry. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
Now Sam was having fun. I stopped the whole thing, asked the boys to go inside and apologized to Bill for his wet pants.
So that didn’t go perfectly, but I didn’t think it was so bad either. I had learned to roll with the punches where kids were concerned, but Bill had more of a problem with it.
He brought dinner over a couple of times, and we would eat while watching a movie together. But he continued to bring up how my kids didn’t like him. “It’s natural they would be upset with another man coming into their mom’s life,” he would say.
I understood his point, but I really didn’t think my kids were all that upset. They actually liked him, asking me to invite him over, even along on a vacation that we were planning.
Then Bill referred to my kids as “another man’s sons,” and I realized this was not going to work. Like the water fight, this was a competition I would lose, so the relationship fizzled out.
Maybe a man will always see my children as “another man’s children.” But as usual, when it comes to love and acceptance, my kids lead the way.
Their dad has been away to be with his significant other. In a school assignment, Owen wrote that he missed his Dad and how hard it is for him sometimes. When I read his words, my heart wrenched; this boy missed his dad who had chosen to be with his girlfriend, yet had room in his heart for his mom’s new boyfriend, who did not have the same room in his heart for him.
Recently, the topic of my dating came up again with my boys. Sam said, “But I already have a daddy.”
“I know,” I said, “I’m not looking for a daddy for you.”
“She’s just looking for someone to enjoy her time with,” Owen added.
How wise this kid is.
The author is a professor at Santa Monica College and the mother of the best sons ever. She is on Instagram: @dorothy.chin_phd.
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