Not tonight honey, I have children

Seriously, dating in my twenties was sooooo much easier. I had no one to be responsible for except myself. I still worried about the occasional serial killer, but it was only me who was in danger so it was alright. Never actually dated a serial killer. Well, not one that killed me. I once dated a guy who said he never actually killed anyone but he really liked cereal. He also broke up with me on my twenty-fourth birthday. Seriously.

Ah, the carefree dating of a twenty-something where the only one in serious trouble was me and my psyche. Insecurities made it more fun. No, really. When you are an insecure twenty-something, you had a choice. You could be trapped in the self-doubting hell of a woman’s head or you could just jump in with both feet and leave it all up to fate. I chose to jump. A lot. My BFF, Kelly, used to say I had “relationshipettes” because they never lasted very long. But that seemed to work for me. I could date freely and without hesitation or reservations. I loved the spontaneous dates where you never knew where the date would take you. I once ended up in Vegas at 4am. I would write about that story, but as we all know, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Mmm…Vegas…hehehe.

Anyway…

So, now there is single-mom-dating. Now you have to have hesitation and reservations. You have to be good at scheduling dates. Organizing dates. Planning dates. You have to make sure you have a babysitter available and know precisely what time you need to be home. You need to a rain-check already in place should one of the kids get sick. You need to hope your dates are available on the only night you don’t have kids so you don't need to deal with a babysitter's judgmental looks when he arrives to pick you up. It’s like being picked up from your parents’ house but you are paying $15 an hour for the judgmental looks. However if you are dating a single dad, he probably has weekends with his kids, so Saturdays tend to be out anyway, so my babysitter will just have to deal.

Now, after all of the schedules are in place and you have told your children you are having dinner with “a friend” and they seem kind of insulted that you would rather have a grownup around instead of them, well, then you take a deep breath and put on lip gloss and jump.

Should the date go well, you move on to more dates and if those go well, then…ya know…whatever. You can’t exactly ask Mr. Wonderful back to your place because well, there are children upstairs and you, or rather I, would still be wondering if he was a serial killer. If I were to make out on my couch, I would have one ear open to the upstairs in case of bad dreams or bathroom trips. I have a feeling it would not be the most romantic of settings. Child-interuptus, I believe is the technical term.

But what are the options these days? Yes, I am talking about sex. Dear god, do I have to spell it out. Yes, sex. Let's see...motels are out because of the bedbug epidemic in Los Angeles. I am thinking the idea of bugs and other creatures crawling on supposedly washed sheets would make for as unromantic an evening as listening for children while on my couch. And, um, unless it's like, prom, that is kind of a weird idea. Car? Honey, I may do yoga, but come on. Plus, I am not sixteen and don’t feel like being arrested for public nudity. Outdoors, same issue. Plus, right now it’s cold in LA at night and long underwear are sooooo unattractive and bulky. Well, maybe on a cute guy in Levi’s on a motorcycle, perhaps. I mean, he would have to stay warm on the motorcycle and they are kind of snuggly in the outdoorsy way and make a guy's butt look cute…hold on, I am getting off topic again.

Where was I? Oh yeah… Not to mention I am up at 5am on weekdays so I have to hope the man I am on a date with is a sparkling and witty conversationalist otherwise I will be yawning by 9pm and then forget about sex altogether. Okay, I would be still thinking about it but...oh, never mind.

Plus, to be totally safe, you actually have to have the whole have-you-been-tested-for-everything-including-the-Ebola-virus conversation. The pragmatic approach. Seriously, wrap it in cellophane or it ain’t coming near me. Yes, pun intended.

Ugh. I hate dating. Why did I get divorced? Oh, yeah, I remember why. Never mind.

This afternoon, I saw the movie “No Strings Attached”. I wanted to see “Black Swan” but it didn’t fit into the unauthorized double feature I had plotted. So, I opted for the lesser of the two Natalie Portman films. I like her. Ashton Kutcher is cute and all, but the film was kind of blah and predictable. Although, the idea of “friends with benefits” would fit into my busy schedule. Hmmm…

Just something to think about. That and cute motorcycle men wearing long underwear…

Forget it, now I am totally distracted.