love.com

Single Mom Meets True Love

Today I’d like to welcome a new Mom blogger friend of mine Tisha Matthews. She is a Behavior Management/Life Coach who is an active member with Mom Bloggers Club. One of the things that we found we had in common was that, as single moms, we were both searching for someone and we both found that we had to look for him a little differently than we originally thought.

Maybe we were getting in our own way. Maybe someone else was getting in the way. Maybe our big, fat, ugly self-images were getting in the way. Maybe we needed to educate ourselves about the craziness that is the male species. Maybe our Christmas Barbie collection or weird Rubik's Cube fascination was getting in the way. Here is her story of how she found true love (and I know, I know, I promise to quit being sappy and go back to my normal sarcastic self very soon--cut me some slack ya big whiners!):

 

Yes it can happen to you!

Every little girl’s dream is to marry their true love, which is the strong brave knight or prince that they see in the Disney princess films. And then I woke up in a nightmare with my son’s father. We were the extreme opposites, but not in a good way. I had a kind and gentle heart and he tried to destroy it. Thank God I only dealt with that devil for a year. I was blessed with a beautiful baby boy from that horrid relationship. During my pregnancy he proposed to me. I said no and moved on with my life as a single mom.

That terrible relationship brought my self-esteem to an all time low. My dreams of meeting my soul mate had been crushed, but deep down inside I did not want to accept that. From the moment my son was born amazing women came into my life that had amazing husbands. The brief moment they were in my life they taught me how to love myself again and that it was still possible to meet my soul mate even with my child.

A few years passed, my son is about three years old. My friend had her first child and about a month later one of her guy friends came over to her house with a gift for her baby. She introduced us. That moment I literally fell into my soul mate’s lap. We became very good friends from that day on. Eventually we developed romantic feelings for each other and began dating; a year later we got into a relationship, which was extremely intense, but we ended the relationship the next year.

I truly believed in my heart that he was my soul mate. He not only treated me like a princess, I felt like we belonged together in my soul. The feeling I have for him is a sense of belonging, like we fit perfectly together, I feel safe with him and I can be myself around him without feeling any insecurities. During the time-out separation I felt like my world came to an end. Thank God for my son! He helped me keep my head above water, also I have to thank my best friend for doing the same.

But the trophy goes to my dad. He also believed that he was the love of my life and that he and I were meant to be together. So my dad decided to prepare me just in case he wanted to come back to me. My dad told me all the secrets about men and what women should and should not do to foster successful relationships. Furthermore; I continued my studies on the opposite sex by reading a lot of books and following the gurus of love.

Three years later my guy came back to me. I did not make it easy for him. About two years into our renewed courtship we got back together and our relationship has been wonderful ever since. By the way, my son loved him the first time he met him. I knew this because he did not throw any toys at him like he did with the other guys who tried to date me! Rule of thumb, your kid knows best (not in all cases) but they do. If they like the guy, he is the one for you.

I have perfected the art of single parent dating! And so can you.

I hope you all like my little life story. If you have any questions on how to attract and keep your soul mate you can contact me at [email protected] and/or you can go to my website: http://tishamatthews.vpweb.com/

Back to School the Organized Way

I have a confession. I have been blog-stalking That One Mom for quite a while! I love her work. Her blog (Only Parent Chronicles) features everything from yummy recipes, to important community causes, to her heartfelt struggles about being a young widow raising two children, to (my personal favorite) her future ex-husband feature. It’s never boring on her site!

Today, I am honored to be a guest blogger on her site with my story about Going Back to School the Organized Way which includes tips from my twenty plus years in the trenches as an educator. I hope it helps as parents prepare their little ones for those all-important first days.

Grab a pencil and let ‘er rip.

Thank you That One Mom!

copyright © 2010  Tiia Jones

Dating Raj (Guest Post)

Today we have a special guest post from fellow single mom and author Swati Bharteey. Swati is working on a book that shares real-life stories about all sorts of single moms from all over the US. I so enjoy her writing and you can see some of of the warm, entertaining, and sensitive snapshots into single mom life on her blog. She is writing today about a dating experience, and I so appreciate her taking the time out of her day to share a story I think every single mom dater can relate to. It’s a bit long, but well worth the read!

I am so honored to be featured on Tiia’s blog today! I’m a 42 year-old single mom with an eight year old daughter (that’s code for chatty, bossy , little mini-me who believes she’s the Lion King)…anywhatever, she’s grown on me so I am keepin’ her! I thought it may be fun to share a dating tale with you today. This particular crooked turn took place in my life just after my divorce, when my daughter was just 3. I hope you enjoy the read - and thanks again Tiia for having me at your blog!

Swati

I had just moved into a new apartment building with my three-year-old daughter a few weeks ago when we received a little flyer saying that the building was hosting a social hour for all residents. I decided we should go down and be neighborly – why not start my single mom life with some new people in my life? We got some munchies and then my daughter and I settled down at a table. A few people came by to chat and it was nice to socialize without any pressure.

Soon a guy sat down at our table and introduced himself. His name was Raj (thirty-three, never married, nice looking, great physique) and he was a surgeon. Raj was very friendly and he had moved into the building a few months before us. We chatted casually for a bit but after about fifteen minutes, I started to get up, explaining that I needed to get my daughter to bed. Surprising me, Raj quickly invited my daughter and me to dinner the next evening. I said yes and realized how nice it was to feel welcomed on our new turf.

My daughter an I headed into our nighttime routine - which consisted of me trying to connect with my pillow as soon as possible while my daughter tried to keep making cutie pie faces at me so she could stay up later. He sure was brave, I thought, to invite both of us over even though he didn’t know us too well. However, I couldn’t tell if he was being neighborly and nice or if he was interested in me in some way. Either way, I knew I was looking forward to it. But it would be nice to meet someone you really liked in your own building, wouldn’t it? Especially within a couple of weeks of moving in? That would be a great story to tell my grandkids someday. I would smile and say that my daughter and I had gone down to the social casually, and then Raj sat down, and then we sparked, and then we bought a house, and then…

The next day, I bolted out of work at 5:00pm sharp, battled the hurricane that is downtown Chicago traffic, picked up my little angel from school, and quickly stopped to get a box of chocolates for Raj. We got home, I threw on some jeans, freshened my makeup, and we headed up the elevator to Raj’s place. I still hadn’t figured out if he was really interested in me or not; and though I had no new data from which to make any conclusions, I kept wondering about it, because why would I let the absence of facts stop me? The magic of a potential crush had tickled the inside of my stomach all day.

We got to Raj’s door; he opened it and immediately reached over and literally gave my daughter’s head a few awkward puppy-like-pats. Three-year-olds don’t care for this very much and my daughter glared up at him (actually I don’t think any human cares for this much). Raj didn’t notice and asked us in. Ok, we were off to a…start.

Though his apartment was just 900 square feet, Raj spoke on turbo volume when he addressed my not-at-all-hearing-impaired child (she didn’t care for that either). And when he did it, I kept jumping a little because it was so startling. I realized that Raj had absolutely no idea how to speak or interact with kids. I was tempted to tell him that he could speak to her normally, not right in her little face, not on EXTRA LOUD, not through me, just normally. But it felt a little rude. Alright, I’m sure he’ll talk in a normal voice very, very soon, I thought kindly, generously, magnanimously. He probably isn’t around kids much and he’s probably a bit nervous. Maybe I’ll ask him about something in his comfort zone, like his work. That should put him at ease.

Me: “So, Raj, what kind of surgeon are you?”

Raj: “I’m a pediatric surgeon. I specialize in cleft palettes.”

A pediatric surgeon who didn’t know how to talk to or be around kids? What strange worm hole had I entered? Clearly the anesthesiologists did their work before Raj ever saw the children! Thankfully, my little miss seemed engrossed in the crayons and coloring book I had brought along.

The meal itself went fine; he was a pretty good cook and both my daughter and I enjoyed to food. But, now that I had opened the spigot, Raj couldn’t stop talking about how successful he was and how mature he was for his age. I asked about travel, books he had read, hobbies. I got a question back about every 25 minutes or so. Raj was clearly adept at continuously weaving one of his stories into the next like an endless piece of yarn. My mind began to wander back to getting my daughter to bed and how many work emails I could get done that night if we left soon.

No butterflies fluttered in my tummy; even they were tired of hearing Raj talk about Raj.

I told Raj I had a conference call that night (such a lie) and we left. The next day, as I contemplated what time I should call to thank him so we wouldn’t have to talk, (I still had manners), my phone rang. It was Raj and he told me in one long sentence that he had a great time last night and he would love to have me over again alone on Friday night. I was so surprised - hadn’t he noticed I wasn’t paying attention to him last night? Couldn’t he tell he was boring people with his live self-indulgent dissertations? Wow. That was amazing.

But not as amazing as my response – because before I could think, I said yes! Hearing my own response made me shiver a little. What was wrong with me? We hung up and I thought, well, anyone can have a bad first date; and in fairness, we hadn’t been alone. Maybe he was just jittery? I think I heard my gut groan a little.

So, Friday came and I found myself kind of looking forward to it as the memory of our first dinner had faded a bit, allowing me to sprinkle fairy dust on it. It was nice to have someone make dinner for me, twice in one week at that; and he was nice looking and smart. Maybe that first night was nerves; after all, I reasoned, people talk a lot when they are nervous. Plus it made me a little giddy to get some male attention. I came home from work, did the super-mom-can-get-ready-in-15-minutes-flat beautification routine, and headed up to Raj’s’s place.

When I got there, I found that he had set up dinner for us on his balcony - candles, music, everything. Ok, he was definitely interested. And I found it very romantic. This evening was starting out much better. I smiled.

His volume dial was on “normal” so I didn’t jump when he spoke. And he asked me a few more questions – though he was still intrigued with himself. I knew it wasn’t a match, but the evening and the sunset were lovely - and I was relaxed. Soon afterwards, we finished eating and Raj offered to massage my shoulders. Hmmm…an opportunity was presenting itself to have a great make-out session – which I hadn’t had in a long time. I thought, why not? I wasn’t falling for him, and he was falling for himself (again). Raj was completely taken with flexing his wares for me – and he was a busy, busy, very important, specialist in his field, so this couldn’t go anywhere, right? Lighten up, I thought, and have fun. You don’t want to see him again – so you won’t. What’s a little kissing?

Regrettably, Raj was better at flexing his muscles than knowing how to use them. Ahem. All I want to say is that a kiss can be very, very sensual, unless you stick your tongue in and out of a girl’s mouth repeatedly, as stiff as a board. Bend. Flex. Be a little loose! And, while I walked away thinking “Ok, that so didn’t scratch the itch,” Raj, it turns out, fell for me. I felt terrible and guilty (sometimes I hate being a girl). I couldn’t say “please don’t call” because it felt mean. Like any mature independent woman, I chose instead to avoid his calls and chatter through any shared elevator rides so he couldn’t speak much. His calls stopped after I moved out. Five months later. Not my best idea.

Why I Don't Date Men Without Children

I am very honored today to be featured as a guest blogger on the very talented Swati Bharteey’s wonderful blog The Single Mother's Chronicles with a story called The Incident of the Wagon or Why I Don’t Date Men Without Children.

I’ve enjoyed Swati’s Blog very much as it features a variety of articles, both about her life and about the lives of other single moms. I especially like how she frequently gives you a snapshot about a poignant moment in a single mother’s life. Take a look—you won’t be sorry you did. There is also a link to her blog on my home page (in addition to the link above).

So when she asked me to give her a guest post, I decided to tell a story of my own. It involves a childless lawyer, a red wagon, a broken arm, and a ravine. Please check it out and let me know your thoughts.

 http://tiny.cc/2yrcr

Thanks Swati for the invitation.

Booty Call Man--Strings Attached

PROFILE    Denny1968 Enjoying all that life has to offer! Active within 2 days  30-year-old-man Colorado Springs, CO United States Seeking women 25-35 Within 30 miles of Albuquerque, NM, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: No Want Kids: Not sure Ethnicity: Caucasian Body type: About average  Height: 6’0” Hair Color: Light brown  Eye Color: Blue Smoke: No way Drink: Regularly Education Level:  High School My Job: Labor/construction Interests: Music & concerts, , fishing and hunting, reading, watching sports, camping, hiking, woodcarving, travel (US)

My friend Wombat at Kiss & Blog recently posted on the idea that women sometimes have difficulty allowing themselves pleasure because they tend to self-flagellate and there are double standards. It sparked off an interesting discussion from both men and women about how differently the two genders perceive sexual encounters. That got me to thinking about booty calls.

A word on booty calls. There is nothing wrong with booty calls. Casual sex for the sake of casual sex has its time and place. In fact, I am all for it if done safely and sanely and, preferably, somewhat soberly. The problem with booty calls is that from a woman’s perspective, it is frequently difficult to limit the sex to its impersonal nature. I don’t know if this is because society dictates that women are not allowed to have booty calls or if we as women begin to project some deeper emotion than is warranted by the detached nature of the dirty deed.

But I decided to find myself a booty call man. Call it comfort food. I deserve it, I told myself. Leah’s anxiety had become so bad that I couldn’t even leave her in the nursery while I worked out at the gym; they’d come and find me because she was hyperventilating. On the other hand, when we would pray together at night before bed, she’d say, “Dear Jesus, please send me a new Daddy so I won’t be scared anymore.” I’d stand in the doorway of her room so she wouldn’t see me crying. I wanted to produce one. If only it were that easy.

But I found myself wanting something totally different. I wanted someone I could have sex with for a couple of hours and never see again. I found a guy whose picture looked really good, but his narrative revealed that he was none too intelligent. He met very few of my rules, and we had almost nothing in common (I mean, camping, woodcarving, labor/construction?). He was perfect! I shipped Leah off to the babysitter’s house—and I was ready for action.

My first major mistake in this booty call catastrophe was that I had him come to my house. This goes against every rule of safe Internet dating that I now know and that is available for anyone who has a computer. Those guidelines simply did not exist then. Actually, now that I think about it, it doesn’t even make good common sense so I must have really wanted to get laid.

As I was waiting for him to arrive, I was trying to concentrate on the book I was reading while at the same time maintaining a seductive pose lying on the couch (think Cleopatra). Finally, I could see car lights approaching the back gate of my townhouse and I glanced up to see a camper trailer parking in the free visitor space. Now this was an interesting development. I didn’t really anticipate the hot booty call guy would be driving a camper trailer, but what was I to do now?

He parked and knocked at the back door and I let him in. We wasted little time on small talk and informalities, but got right down to business. I guess when you email someone to come over to your house at 9:00 on a Friday night they know what you are interested in. The casual sex was, well, casual. It was quick and expedient and less than satisfying. Kind of like those Slimfast shakes you’re supposed to drink to replace meals.

Then either society or my sensitive woman side kicked in and I wanted it to be more than it was. “Can’t you stay the night,” I said and I wasn’t even sure if I could believe the words were coming out of my own mouth. Did I remember this guy drove a camper trailer which he very likely lived in?

He looked at me steadily as he pulled on his Levi’s. “I don’t think so. I have to get back to the campground or I’ll lose my spot.”

I knew it! What the hell was I thinking? My head had no control over my mouth at this point. “Well can we see each other again?” and even I could hear a bit of a plaintive whine creeping into my voice.

“I thought this was just sex,” he said and now he looked away as he buttoned his shirt.

Yeah me too buddy but apparently my mouth didn’t get the message. “Yeah OK,” I said. It sounded flat, however, and he looked at me with the slightest tinge of sympathy before giving me a quick hug.

As he drove away, I silently prayed to the gods of dating that he would forget where I lived and never, ever tell anyone what had transpired here tonight.

copyright © 2010  Tiia Jones

And the Winner Is…

It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Well, maybe it’s not that dramatic, but I have had several people ask me which choice won the blog poll for the new title of my memoir. It actually was a tie!

The envelope please…

With both obtaining a respectable 27.3%, the winners are:

love.com: 237 First Dates that Changed My Life

Love, Alt, Delete: 237 First Dates that Changed My Life

As some of you remember, I held a contest on my Facebook Page for friends to submit entries for the new title. So the winning title goes to Eric. He’ll receive some goodies from our friends at  Fish Hugger. Fish Hugger has delicious, sustainable salmon, beef and other products that are healthy and good for the environment.

Eric’s title was Love, Alt, Delete (which I love BTW). Since I’m not sure, still, exactly what title and subtitle I’m going with, I’ve decided to give out a runner-up prize to Sherry who submitted Confessions of a Dating Mom. I love that one too, and I may use that in some form or fashion. So Sherry will also receive something yummy!

Thank you everybody who participated. I appreciate your support and ongoing encouragement. I could not do this without each of you! Look for a new poll soon on the blog.

P.S. That’s my TBR pile above! I have a lot of reading to do this summer.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Happy Father's Day to Me!

As I was reading a recent post on Singlemommyhood.com about Jackie’s Father's Day Drama, I couldn’t help but think of that day ten years ago when I became, not a single parent, but a solo parent. Yes, there is a difference.

Every year about this time, I reflect on what it means to be both father and mother to my child. Reading Jackie’s heartfelt and eloquent thoughts about dealing with a “deadbeat” father, caused my mind to drift back ten years to the day I got that fateful letter from the court. I had received so many court notices from The Ex that it wasn’t unusual. I opened it while Leah was riding her little pink tricycle in the courtyard of our townhouse complex. Distractedly watching her and the other neighborhood children on bikes, trikes, and big wheels, the words grabbed me out of my distraction.

“Relinquishment of Rights and Responsibility. Respondent (that was him) agrees Petitioner (that was me even though I didn’t remember ever petitioning for anything) shall make all major decisions regarding the child. Respondent relinquishes and surrenders further rights to the child. Respondent agrees to abatement of Parenting Time.”

I called my best friend and lawyer Arianna and read her the contents of the legal notice.

“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “he has decided not to be her father.”

“Can he do this?” I wailed.

“Yes, he can do this. He may think he’ll get out of paying child support, but that isn’t the case. We could tell the judge we want to deny the motion, but it probably won’t do any good.”

I looked up to where one of the neighborhood girls was pushing Leah on her trike. She hadn’t gotten the hang of the business of peddling.

“The hearing is Tuesday,” I said flatly.

“I’ll be there.”

“I know.”

The Ex didn’t come for the hearing, and his attorney seemed apologetic when he said that it should be a rather simple procedure and that The Ex wasn’t required to even be there. You can go to court, decide not to be someone’s father, all without even showing up. How do you like them apples? It was all very anticlimactic. We didn’t even see the judge.

As we were leaving, The Ex’s attorney said he was sorry for the whole thing. “Yeah, me too,” I replied. “Do you know why he did this?”

“No,” he answered. “I merely file the motions my clients ask me to file. I can’t make him want to be a parent.”

Arianna shook her head.

When I got home, my already rotten day got even worse. The UPS man came to the door with a large box. Leah exclaimed, “presents!”

Fortunately, I had a notion that maybe the contents weren’t from Toys R Us or Baby Gap. I had seen that the return address was from The Ex. I told Leah to play in the other room while I opened the box. The box, as it turned out, was only a gift in the most macabre sense of the word, packed I assume by The Ex’s new wife.

It had every toy that had been over at The Ex’s house, every scrap of clothing including every little sock and hair bow. It even had pants and panties that had been soiled during her toilet training accidents that had never been washed and were returned these months later completely filthy and covered with, well, filth. It had pictures drawn by Leah, crayon drawings made while waiting at restaurants, stuffed animals, and Happy Meal toys. It was, in short, every tangible memory of Leah that had remained in his life. Effectively, he had relinquished his rights and responsibilities, and sent them to me in a cardboard box.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. That’s one thing I know for sure about being a single mother, and in particular a “solo” mother. There is never anyone to take over, never anyone to give you a break. When you are tired or stressed or upset or sad or sick, you just deal with it. So I threw out the clothes that were too gross to salvage and boxed up the memories.

Every year on Father’s Day, I have an urge to send myself a card or a gift. Just to say, “Hey, you’re doing a great job. Maybe not a perfect job and probably not the best job, but a great job nonetheless. You’ve raised a good kid who made it to the age of thirteen without any major mishaps. Everyone says she’s beautiful and fun to be around and you love each other. Happy Father’s Day to me!”

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Is That a Kiwi in Your Purse, or Are You Just Glad to See Me?

Recently, Dating Diva blogged about how her keys had become symbolic of her emotional baggage.  She needed to shed some of it to move on with her life.

It got me to thinking.

I don’t have so many keys really, but my purse is another story.  I asked my friends on Facebook for their input about the strangest things they’ve ever found in their purses.  I was amazed at the responses.  People have found:

• needle nosed pliers
• corkscrew
• eight track tape
• pampers (I’m assuming fresh)
• stun gun
• large spider in a jar
• clean socks
• razor
• cat food
• “part” of a condom (I don’t even want to know)
• Tabasco
• hard boiled, dyed Easter egg
• chocolate Santa Claus (holiday theme, but not from the same person)
• handcuffs (I didn’t ask, but she might want to meet up the man with the dungeon)
• kiwi (that was mine)

I think we hold onto these things because we are afraid to throw them away.  We might need them someday.  We’re reluctant to get rid of them on the off chance that they might be the one thing that will come in handy.  You never know when someone is going to have an eight track tape player, but when they do, you’ll be ready.

We do the same thing with our dating profile parameters.  We are afraid to ask for what we really want because we might eliminate the one person we think is out there for us and send them galloping off on their cyber white horse.  But really, it’s empowering to be picky.

You want someone who hasn’t been married?  Got it.  Someone with a college degree?  Done.  Someone who reads comic books, plays putt putt, and listens to Norah Jones?  He’s out there.  He’s not on my list, but he might be perfect for you.

I’ve said it before, but it’s a lot like searching for a job.  When you start looking for a job, you don’t begin by looking at every listing for which you might have the minimum qualifications.  Instead, you start by looking at the ones that pay the best, suit your qualifications and work experience, have the best free coffee, etc.  If you are an accountant, you don’t start by looking at the ads for all night clerks at 7/11.

When I started Internet dating, I should have been very specific in choosing exactly what I liked and wanted and needed from a date.

Unfortunately, instead of going with the best of the best, the cream of the crop, and then if I didn’t find anyone, lowering the bar, I cast a wide net desperately to see what I could find. This wasn’t how I hunted for jobs, but in the beginning it was how I hunted for online dates. 

I was afraid to get rid of the stuff in my purse; to eliminate people.  I might need them someday.  That guy with the three felony convictions might not be so bad, right, and who was I to judge? 

The truth is, though, you won’t ever need that Tabasco OR those socks that are in your purse.  And you definitely won’t need the kiwi (which turned into a disgusting lump of brown mush that I stuck my hand into one day during class).  Throw them out. 

Then we might be able to find the one we really deserve.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

 

love.com: Dating Rules

Rule # 21  This probably shouldn’t need to be verbalized, but for my sister Mary, I should mention that midgets and schizophrenics are automatically out of the question.

 

 

 

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

love.com: Lessons Learned from Internet Dating

I apologize to those of you who have read the excerpts on the other site because this will be a repeat, but after this intro, there will be new material.  Please read and respond because it's the best way to help in this whole publishing process.  I need a little cheering section!  Recommend it to your friends, your family, your friends' family...well you get the picture.

 

  The Rules

I think I have had more first dates than anyone else in America.  Well, at least in the Southwest….but with my failure rate I ought to get the whole country.  Where did it all start?  I guess you could say it started when I got a divorce but that wouldn’t really be fair.  Perhaps I can blame my best friend for making me try internet dating.  Maybe it started when the military invented the internet so really it’s their fault.  Whatever the case, I have had over 230 first dates off of the internet in the past eight years.  I say “over” because, really, at some point I sort of lost track and there may have been a few that were so inconsequential as to not have even made the list.  I’m like a woman possessed; on a mission.  I’m determined, you see, to find a husband.  And, yes, as trite as it sounds I’m determined to find Prince Charming. 

Somehow when I started counting recently and I realized it had been so many, I was shocked and embarrassed by the sheer colossal nature of that number.  But then I thought, well (to use one of my least favorite phrases in the English language), “It is what it is.”  Of course it IS what it IS.  What do people really mean when they say that anyway?  If something wasn’t what it was, what would it be?  But I digress. 

 

Read on to find out how to write your Profile, The Rules for Successful Internet Dating, and some of my crazy internet dating adventures.  Oddly enough, other people have had them too!  The stories just keep getting weirder and weirder...so please share yours.

 

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones