Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Single Mom Dot Com - A Dating Site for Gently Used and “Like New” Women.

I started seeing someone recently, and I noticed that every time I shared the news with a friend or loved one, they’d immediately ask if he knows I have kids. 

First of all, what kind of Casey Anthony-ass-man-trapping-ass bitch must you think I am for you to consider the possibility of me beginning a relationship with someone without telling them about my offspring? How would that even work? “Hey, whoa! Sorry it slipped my mind, but I got divorced last year and I have 2 kids. Hope that’s cool with you now that WE ARE DATING.” 

Second of all, well, they’re not exactly wrong to ask. They’re really saying, “So he doesn’t think it’s utterly disgusting that you’re a mom?” Harsh, but true. These people understand the cultural attitude that failed marriages, especially those that produced children, are a shameful burden, and when a single mother is trying to date, we call it “baggage.” 

Of course, there are the EXTRA HAPPILY remarried parents who are desperate to prove they’ve made a good decision by blasting terms like “bonus dad,” and posting photos of them having an orgy with the ex and their new girlfriend at their son’s little league game on social media. (In all seriousness, kudos to those couples who exemplify that setup done well.)

I’m not sure how I feel about it. Rationally, I assume it is less than ideal to date someone who already has children from a previous relationship. Of course, if the person is worth it— and presumably you wouldn’t date someone who isn’t worth some degree of inconvenience to you— it’s reasonable that the children would become near and dear to you, even if they are not biologically yours. 

My current boyfriend jokingly asked me what would happen if he didn’t love my current kids as much as any kids I had with him, and even though he was only playfully trying to understand what that situation would look like, I’m sure it’s a real thing that normal stepparents think about. I haven’t done ANY research or asked ANYONE with experience, but... in my expert opinion, there’s gotta be some difference in feelings toward bio and non-bio children. Not that you can’t love both unconditionally and treat each of them the same way, but there is most likely some slight difference in the way brain chemistry responds to genetic offspring, even if it’s imperceptible. So I explained, also jokingly, that he didn’t have to love my kids at all— their dad and I have got that part covered— he just couldn’t be mean to them. (Even though the idea of him taking a toy truck out of my son’s hand and sticking his tongue out at him while my back is turned is kind of melting my heart right now, what is wrong with me?) 

I’m lucky in that my ex-husband is still as involved as he has always been, which is considered a lot for our societal expectations of a young father. (Sorry Ex, couldn’t let you have credit without downplaying it just slightly.) He’s a great dad. I am not looking for anyone to fill that fatherly role in the lives of my existing children. 

I’m not sure if that makes it more or less difficult than situations where the father is no longer in the picture. On the one hand, you don’t assume 100% responsibility for the child just by dating their mother, but on the other, you’ve gotta deal with another dude in the background until that kid grows up. I’m gonna say that as long as the ex is cool, and there are no lingering feelings or huge discrepancies in parenting styles, it’s probably a good thing for everyone. 

Regardless of the situation with the ex, it’s a personal decision to date someone with children from a prior relationship, and I certainly don’t hate on dudes who don’t want to. I can’t hate on women who make that choice either, especially because it’s assumed that women would be happy to raise the entire fucking village if we could. Plus, the thought of some Marla Singer-esque girl saying, “I’m not raising some other bitch’s kids and being some single dad’s meal ticket.” amuses me. 

Even if my kids are a HUGE BUMMER to someone who would otherwise want to date me, and maybe there is an incredibly wealthy underwear model/lumberjack/musician who would love to take me away to Europe and write songs about me if only I had kept my legs closed or my birth control had worked, I OBVIOUSLY wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oh, and the schmuck who is cool with the whole gang will not be destroyed financially or emotionally, burdened by fatherhood he doesn’t want, or forced into loving my kids. They have a lot of love and support, so I don’t look for a man to provide those things. I seduce men for my own sick amusement, not to recruit dads for my children- that shit is weird. It goes without saying that he will have to accept my children and be good to them, but why the fuck would I date someone who is mean to kids? Why would anyone? Note: if you’re dating someone who is mean to waitstaff, dogs, or kids: Stop. 

That sounds like a whole lot of justification and I’m sure I’d get torn apart by Reddit for it. (r/theredpill) As I’ve stated before, I don’t think it’s wrong for someone to say, “nah, that’s a dealbreaker.” Shit, I have way more trivial dealbreakers, like: guys wearing puka shell necklaces, or not being able to change a tire. What I’m saying is, for the cuck that does accept not having been the 1st to conquer my womb, there will be no unreasonable expectations.

I digress. I intended to talk about my belief that my kids make me the woman I am proud to be, and they’ve been directly involved in all of my greatest accomplishments. 

Pregnancy and childbirth (twice) transformed me completely. Growing a human being for 9 months and experiencing the pain and power of labor gave me strength. These things taught me selflessness, and how to surrender to pain and allow the terrifying yet natural events to happen as they will. 

Then there were the early months, with sleepless nights, sore breasts (gross), staring at a squishy, shapeless, unrecognizable body in the mirror, trying desperately to adjust... again, these made me stronger. I learned how to be patient when I’m tired and stressed, and how to love myself and take care of my body, even when it isn’t up to my standards. 

Caring for 2 kids is difficult, but I’ve had motherly instincts I couldn’t have imagined reveal themselves along the way. I love reading aloud to my kids and having fun with the voices. I like making crafts and planning parties. I like cutting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into heart shapes and building forts. I like snuggling and talking about science. I enjoy hiking and being outside. 

These are things I love to share with others, and consequently, they are things I love about myself. I wouldn’t have realized the full breadth of the lady I am and the love I have to give without my children here to show me. I’m cool, caring, capable, smart, silly, and thoughtful. I am these things because of my love for my children. 

Without kids, I’d still be cool as fuck, but I’d lack the heart I have now. I’m pretty damn sure, based on self-awareness, that I’d be selfish, entitled, naive, and aimless. Yeah, you could argue that the same metamorphosis will happen to any new mother, so there’s no reason to settle for a used one, but the guy I end up spending my life with doesn’t have to wait and witness me growing up and figuring it out. I’M A GROWN ASS WOMAN, KIND OF. I can navigate household and parenting duties with at least a slacked-in-college-but-smart-and-good-at-bullshitting entry-level experience, and maybe that would be useful enough to calm his first time anxieties. I’m stable and serious, if against my will. I’ve got two helpless people to care for, people who’s mission in life is seemingly to electrocute and/or starve themselves. I have to stop them. That’s serious work. I went from not knowing how to boil an egg to being a pretty good cook. I make food that is, as my father would say, “actually pretty good.” I know secrets about laundry that even your mother doesn’t know. 

Now, obviously this shit is hard and I’m a hot ass mess, but compared to the hot ass mess I was, and many have been, as a first time mom in the early days of marriage, I am now Martha Stewart meets Erin Brockovich. So when Baby Daddy #2 is freaking out because the baby won’t sleep, instead of freaking out with him and letting tension create an argument, I know (from having had that argument roughly 200 times before) that the only helpful course of action is calming the baby- and from experience, I have a general idea of how to do that. When the baby eats something they found on the floor, I can call Poison Control without breaking a sweat. When we’ve gone weeks without banging, whether it’s my libido or his, I know how to address it. (Couples have the dumbest fights, don’t they?) If we have to make a dish to pass for the holidays at his mother’s, I’ve got tried & true crowd pleasers. I know when to shut up and leave something alone, and I know when to push and try harder. I know how to avoid internalizing negative emotions so they don’t manifest themselves in some shitty way later— usually me being a low key bitch all day for no reason, making petty remarks, getting drunk, or any/all of these things. 

Basically, I’m a better partner because I’ve had a bad partner, and I’ve been a bad partner. I understand how to work through pain and anger without letting it change you. I’ve developed a strategy for communication and I have learned to assume responsibility when I need to, without being defensive and close-minded. 

I’m not perfect or anywhere near, but I’m zen as fuck compared to my 20 year old self. I’m still hella depressed and anxious, but I’m on top of that shit now, so I can function fully and tear shit up without being unreasonably horrified or utterly hopeless... 97.8% of the time. 

As I’ve said, being pretty self-aware, I know I have an addictive personality, impulse control problems, can be extremely reactive (and not at all proactive), and I like darkness and destruction because they make me feel more in touch with my artistic self. So if I were childless at 27, I’d either be a drug addicted, angsty, starving artist, or based on current politics, I’d be President of the United States. 

So, if I lost a few potential life partners because I got knocked up in ‘11, it’s cool with me. I won’t pretend I haven’t thought about it, or that it doesn’t hurt my feelings, but I’m not angry and I don’t feel defeated. I’ve seen enough success stories (some of them nausea inducing) that I know there is “life after divorce.” (Gross phrase.) I probably won’t have to settle for BOTTOM of the barrel, and I’m not going to let anyone make me feel like a used-up hag with a truckload of baggage. No sir, I am a used-up hag with 2 beautiful babies. And hey, if nothing else, they’re proof that I can breed and my genetics are fucking top notch. Doesn’t that count for something in an evolutionary sense? Like, the King would definitely be pleased with me. I’m pretty sure Hitler would be as well, but that’s just wildly inappropriate to say.

Seeing the world through my kids’ eyes has made me more curious, more interested in the world and the way it works, more laid back, and better able to embrace life’s mishaps with a sense of humor. Having kids has also made me drink more and gave me a mom bod. Hey, you win some, you lose some. 


SO THIS IS ME. IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE ME AT MY WORST ❌πŸ’”YOU DON’T DESERVE ME AT MY BEST. πŸ‘ΈπŸ» SINGLE MOM AND TWO KIDS. πŸ‘©‍πŸ‘§‍πŸ‘¦WE ARE A PACKAGE πŸ“¦ . πŸ‘ŠπŸ» ARE YOU STRONG ENOUGH TO BE A BONUS DAD? πŸ‘¨‍πŸ‘§‍πŸ‘¦CAN YOU SPEND YOUR πŸ’΅ ON DIAPERS 🍼 INSTEAD OF DIME BAGS? THIS JUICY πŸ‘ IS FOR A REAL MAN WHO CAN “STEP UP TO THE PLATE” AND COACH MY BABY BOY’S SPORTS⚽️πŸ€πŸˆ⚾️ TEAMS. EX IS PART OF THE PICTUREπŸ“Έ SO GET USED TO IT❗️HE WILL GIVE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT πŸ’― YOU WILL GIVE FINANCIAL πŸ’²πŸ’²πŸ›πŸ›’πŸš¬πŸ’°πŸ’΅πŸ“±πŸ‘πŸš—πŸ·πŸΊπŸŸπŸ‘‘πŸ’…πŸ»πŸ’„πŸ’ INDEPENDENT WOMAN BUT YES I WILL NEED THE KEYS πŸ”‘ TO THE MANSION 🏩 OR YOU CAN GET TO STEPPIN πŸ‘ŸπŸ‘Ÿ

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

People think I'm mean.

I guess people think I'm kind of bitchy, and well, I'm kind of bitchy. Some people tell me I'm sassy, which is a polite way of telling someone she's got a big mouth.

Here's the deal- I have opinions. Strong ones. Opinions that I'm not afraid to talk about. And when I talk, I like to dress it up... so I exaggerate, I joke, I use swear words. It's a thing. It's my thing. It's how I relate to all of you little fucks out there.

I see society deteriorating and I need to joke around about it to let off some steam, OK!? If I can't make fun of people who do stupid things, what fun will I have?

However, it's never my intention to hurt anyone, kick them while they're down, or make them sad. If you do something that I make fun of, MAN UP AND STAND BY YOUR DECISION! You do the damn thing, I don't know why, but you do it... so own it. And be able to back it up. I never turn down a discussion. Let's argue. Teach me something, shed some light on whatever bullshit you do, make me a more well-rounded individual, damnit. Don't lay on the ground and throw a temper tantrum like my toddler.

But if we, for some reason, cannot come to an agreement, you also need to recognize that no two people will ever agree on everything. There is no reason we can't be friends because I think animal print is hideous and you look like a Cheetah Girl. There's a beautiful deal I will make with anyone who wants to be my friend- YOU understand that I have the sense of humor that I do and I don't mean any harm, and in turn, I don't let the superficial shit that I bitch and moan about determine our friendship. So I will befriend a hick with dumb political views, a girl with gaudy fingernails, or a fan of ICP (as long as he still had some brain function left) even if I make fun of all of those things. See? Some people won't say anything, they'll judge you and write you off. I, however, like to have a variety of friends to teach me a variety of things. If you can't take a good ball busting, though, we probably won't ever get along.

I don't dish out what I can't take, and I even make fun of myself, but I hate little pussies who are offended by every little thing. Grow a thicker skin. The world is a filthy place and we are not all supposed to tap dance on clouds of love and happiness around you 24/7. Or maybe we are. But I'm gonna fucking die one day and I would like to think that I showed my true colors and the people I surrounded myself with dug it. I won't be satisfied knowing that all I did was bake a bunch of happy-feeling-cupcakes and fed them to you and Mr. Pansy Pants.

There is a time and a place for those cupcakes.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Reasons why YOU ARE NOT A FUCKING PRINCESS.

It has come to my attention through the social networking I do that a lot of girls in their late teens and early twenties are beginning to sound like entitled little twats. And I get that this is the age of empowerment and women run the world and fuckin Nicki Minaj and Lady Gaga and shit, but I think I'm seeing a lot of young ladies taking positive ideas about loving themselves and not tolerating mistreatment and turning them into weird shitty Instagram values about relationships and men in general.

If what I'm referring to is unclear...

Now, all of this shit is cool I guess... if you're into cookie-cutter already-digested Nicholas-Sparks romantic notions, but something tells me that if this began: "Hold his dick while he drives. Hold his dick when you walk beside him. Just hold his dick. Have sex with him when he's mad. Have sex with him in the rain..." we'd have a shit ton of crazy females being like, "THIS IS DISGUSTING, MEN ARE PIGS. IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT SEX." 

Well, that's true, it isn't all about sex. But real men don't act like Ryan Gosling or Channing Tatum do while they are literally reading scripts and taking cues. I hate to be the girl to say it, but if there is a likely male equivalent to the female fantasy of some poor schmuck with his tail between his legs following her instructions to "always be sweet" and "kiss her in the rain," it would be a woman throwing down in the kitchen, wearing very little clothing, and making a lot of sexual innuendos. Now I'm generalizing here, I realize that not every guy loves boobies and beer and not every girl loses her shit over romance movies, but the girls who post stupid shit like this on their social networking pages definitely, definitely do lose their shit over romance movies. Just saying.

This stupid quote takes way too many sentences to say something pretty fuckin simple: "Treat her as if she is the center of the universe." Which is a really shitty and unhealthy idea, because we're all human, and sometimes Princess can't get what she wants. Sometimes you don't feel like playing with her hair and I'm definitely not staying up with a bitch all night for no damn reason... like what is that, even? Why would the person who made this shit up include that? This is a whiny, self-absorbed, and shallow little girl who probably wants you to stay up with her if she can't sleep. You know what? I've got shit to do tomorrow and it's pretty selfish of you to expect me to entertain you when I could be recharging my batteries. A lot of this is understandable, like yeah you should definitely be faithful and make me feel loved, but you can probably save all of the corny shit for special occasions.

Like, where do you get off saying that you deserve to be treated like a princess? Why? What the fuck did YOU do, exactly, that made you deserve PRINCESS treatment? Oh, you were born? Interesting. And don't say some shit like, "I treat my man like a KING," because that's another dumbass phrase that I don't care to get into right now. So if you think that you somehow deserve princess treatment, I would like to shoot ya a friendly reminder to bring you back down to earth:

There are women in the world who are getting lunch cooked for them by their private chef right now. There are women who have never worked a day in their life to buy their designer clothing and diamonds. That is actually happening. These are women who I imagine might have these (still ridiculous) beliefs and attitudes about how men should treat them. You probably work at a grocery store, a restaurant, or a tanning bed. You can't go out this weekend because you spent ALL THE ACTUAL MONEY YOU HAD on shots last weekend named after things that are pink and fuzzy. You post pictures of your Starbucks cup on Instagram... and you use a filter. You're really average.

There are also women without this sense of entitlement who have multiple degrees, speak multiple languages, and are nationally recognized for their talent and beauty. There are women who have dedicated their lives to something beautiful and awe-inspiring. There are women who have achieved near physical perfection through hard work and heavy weights. You're Facebooking about how rough Zumba was tonight. 

You're average. There is nothing wrong with being average. I'm average. I mean, I'm a pretty cool average, but I'm still not being asked to endorse products or model or anything. I'm alright with that though. The truth is, no matter who you are, you shouldn't have unrealistic expectations of your partner. It's unfair, because we're all just shitty, dirty, sometimes cool people. We weren't written into a novel or a film or a porno, and we aren't going to fulfill every stupid stinkin fantasy that goes through your head. And as long as I'm not willing to cook a 3 course meal wearing nothing but an apron and 6 inch heels, I'm alright with never finding rose petals leading up to the door. 

So here's my version:

"Be a normal fucking dude. Be honest, don't act like a dick, tell me when you disagree without making me feel too shitty about it. Kiss me when you feel like it, if it's not an inappropriate time and place. If you don't want me to take a picture of you, don't be a little bitch, just tell me. And if I fall asleep in your arms and you're uncomfortable, move me. Treat me like your woman, not your princess. Don't let my head get too big and make sure I remember that the world does not owe me shit. And if you kiss me when I'm mad, I'm going to clock you in the face, big guy."