“Do you think you’ll ever date again?”
Liam asked me that from the passenger seat. Out of nowhere. I was driving, and I had nothing ready. I wasn’t expecting him to ease me into the conversation, but I didn’t expect this level of bluntness either. Then I remembered. He’s nine.
I had to think about it. To be honest, the first word that came to me was no. But I owed him more than a one-word answer.
Here is the truth. I’ve gotten used to living alone. Not alone, exactly. I have Liam. But alone as an adult. And there is something magical about it. I do what I want, when I want. I make the decisions. Especially the ones about my son. Nobody to negotiate with. No other parent to butt heads with over bedtime, school, all the mundane things.
But that’s also the hardest part.
It isn’t Liam. He’s always been an easy child. I feel very lucky. It’s the weight. The mental load. Every decision about his life passes through one head, mine. His education. His health. What to push and what to let go. There’s no one to step in for a few hours. No one to encourage me one way or the other. I decide, and I live with it, by myself.
There’s a word for that, and I don’t like using it. Lonely. Making all those decisions alone is lonely. Magical and lonely, at the same time.
Then there’s the other reason. The one I don’t say out loud very often.
I don’t think I can take that kind of pain again. When I’m in a relationship, I give everything. Unfortunately. And after two failed marriages, you start to wonder if maybe you’re just not the relationship type. You learn to protect yourself. You build a little wall and call it whatever you want. I call it fuck off.
I tell myself dating would take something away from my time with Liam. I know that’s an excuse. It wouldn’t. He’s not going anywhere, and neither am I. And I’m a woman, after all. I have a life to live too.
But I also don’t believe in forever the way I used to. Marriage is not sustainable. Not for me, anyway. You stand there and say “I do,” and how in the name of the Lord are you supposed to know who you’ll both be in ten years? Time changes you. It changes them. I’ve said “I do” twice. I know what I’m talking about, at least from a failed standpoint.
So, dating again. I don’t know. It scares me. I don’t look for it. I don’t need it, at least for now.
Would it be nice? Sure. Dinner. A margarita. Someone across the table. Sex on the beach, even though the sand is a bitch. Oh yes, I had to try that one. Then I put it next to the heartache, and I think, no. I’m not doing that again.
So I answered him. “No. I don’t think so. Or at least, it would take someone very special to get me out of my comfort zone. My safe zone.”
I think Liam understands. I find comfort in thinking he does.
Maybe I’m looking at it all wrong.
What do you think?
Photo: Mackinac Island, Michigan.
