I knew I was done when asking for a second date started feeling like I was begging for basic effort.
Not groceries. Not money. Not a grand romantic
gesture. I am talking about a day, time, a plan, and enough intention to show
me I was not the only one trying to keep the connection alive.
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About almost ten days ago, I published a blog post called Single
Mom Dating: The Raw Truth About Love, Kids, and Judgment. Back then, I was
hopeful. I was open. I believed maybe I had room in my heart to build something
with somebody while still being the mother my children needed. However, life
has a funny way of checking you when you start romanticizing potential over
reality.
In the span of one week, I went from feeling excited
about seeing somebody’s name pop up on my screen to asking myself why the hell
I was making space for inconsistency. I already knew that my real life already
requires so much from me.
Maybe it is Mercury retrograde. Maybe it is exhaustion.
Maybe it is motherhood, healing, divorce recovery, bills, school planning,
child support stress, and the emotional labor of trying to stay soft in a world
that reminds you to keep your guard up.
Whatever it is, something shifted in me.
For the first time in a long time,
dating does not feel exciting this season. It feels...heavy. Heavy asf.
What did it for me was realizing I was out here asking
about a second date like I was begging for scraps of reciprocity. I asked once.
Then I asked again. Then after a certain point, if I must keep asking you when
you plan on seeing me, then damn, am I asking for a date or auditioning for
basic effort?
You can talk to somebody every day. You can FaceTime
them, laugh with them, get used to seeing their name pop up on your screen, and
start thinking, “Okay, maybe this could be something.” Then one
disagreement happens and suddenly the energy starts dying down as if y’all were
never building a routine in the first place.
That right there is the part that pisses me off. Don’t
come in playing delulu with me in the beginning, acting like consistency is
easy, acting like you know how to show up, then switch up the moment I start
asking for intention instead of vibes. I did not ask you to pay a bill.
I did not ask you to front me money. I did not ask you to come save me.
I asked you to be intentional with how you were moving.
Oh yes, I need plans in advance. I have kids. I am the
head of my household. My life does not operate on “let’s see as time gets
closer” and last-minute maybes. I have school schedules, responsibilities,
emotions, bills, appointments, and children who depend on me to be steady. So
no, I cannot just float through somebody’s uncertainty because they want the
benefits of my attention without the weight of being considerate.
What’s wild is that I spent three weeks of my life
being pulled into a routine that clearly could not be maintained. Three weeks
of conversation, attention, FaceTime, curiosity, and emotional buildup, just
for the whole thing to start cracking the moment I opened up and started being
more intentional about how I was seeing myself.
Then somehow, me wanting clarity turned into me “acting
funny.” Me having standards looked like me causing issues. Me asking for
intention got twisted into me sabotaging something. I do a lot of things for
the plot but letting someone in to get to know more about me and then I pull
back can be done once the sparks stop flying because it’s based on sexual
chemistry. If the foundation was that fragile, maybe sabotage was just truth
showing up early and doing me a favor.
Truth be told, when a man can look at everything, I
have going on and suggest I should be open to exploring situationships, that
tells me everything I need to know. My reality is not light. My life is denser
than homemade Southern pound cake. I do not need somebody trying to turn my
heart into a casual experiment, because they don’t know what to do with a woman
who has done the work to heal, handling her responsibilities, not making
excuses for my history of love, and getting out the way without being ghosted.
I am four years post-divorce come October. I have
rebuilt too much of myself to start shrinking now. I am not desperate for a
title. I am also not available for confusion dressed up as connection. If I must
ask more than twice for reciprocity, I am no longer communicating. I am
begging. I refuse to beg somebody to do what they had no problem pretending
they could do in the beginning.
So yes, I threw the towel in. Not because I did not
care, but because I care about myself more. I am fine with being the one who
got away. Hell, I am proud to be the one who knew when to walk away before a
situationship tried to make a fool out of her.
At this point, I cannot afford to give a fuck about
inconsistency. My peace is too expensive. My time is too limited. My life is
already full. If somebody wants access to me, they need to understand that
access comes with intention. Not perfection. Not pressure. Just intention.
Not because every man is the problem, and not because
love is not real. I am not walking away from the idea of being loved. I am
walking away from the version of dating that feels like one more damn thing I must
manage when my plate is already full.
As a single mom, every conversation cost time. Every
date requires planning. Every ounce of emotional investment comes from a cup
that is already being poured into my children first. So, when somebody comes
into my life half-stepping, inconsistent, or acting confused after they were so
damn sure in the beginning, I feel it differently now. I do not have extra
pieces of myself to hand out just to see if somebody might eventually decide to
value them.
I am not angry. I am not bitter. I am simply paying
attention to what my mind, body, and heart have been trying to tell me. Peace
has become more attractive to me over the years than potential. Consistency has
become more attractive than chemistry. Oh, plus protecting my energy has become
more attractive than chasing a relationship, because society says I should want
one.
Maybe this is only a season. Maybe a few months from
now I will feel completely different. Or maybe this season is teaching me that
I do not have to force a damn thing. Love should not require me to abandon
myself, shrink myself, silence myself, or even pretend I am okay with crumbs
when I know I deserve the whole meal.
Right now, I am choosing to pour into my children, my
education, my career, my writing, and the woman I am becoming. If love finds me
while I am doing those things, I will welcome it. However, I am no longer
making dating the center of my story. I am making peace the center instead.
Honestly? That feels like the healthiest decision I
have made in a long time. I am still going to date, and best believe, a time
will be had. I am not locking myself away or acting like love cannot find
me. I am just not internalizing about getting to know somebody more than they
are getting to know me. I am not carrying the connection by myself,
overthinking every shift, or making their confusion mean something is wrong
with me. I would rather be alone in my peace than tied to somebody’s inconsistency
and half-ass effort. I am not begging for reciprocity anymore. I am choosing
myself, and that shit feels good.
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