I'm going to be really frank here: Dating as a middle-aged single mom is sometimes just awful.
First, there's the mom guilt you feel when you actually go out and have a date. Will your kids really remember or care that you left them with a babysitter who is, in all honesty, probably way more fun than you, anyway? No. You know this, but it doesn't make you feel any better about leaving the house without them to (*gasp*) do something for yourself or spend time with other adults.
Next, there's the scheduling. You have to find a babysitter. Sometimes, this can mean the stars have to align in order for a date to actually happen. The kids have to not be sick, the babysitter has to be available, you have to have budgeted appropriately to afford to pay the babysitter, and this all has to happen on an evening when the guy is actually available, too.
Side note: Did you know that some women expect the men they go on dates with to pay for their babysitters? This completely took me by surprise! I know it's still traditional for men to pay on a first date (and if you haven't dated in a while, this really is still true, men still pay). But now they're asked to pay for a babysitter for kids who don't belong to them and whom they've never met? No wonder so many men run quickly in the other direction as soon as they learn I have kids.
Side note #2: How do teenage babysitters charge so much money? When I was a teenager, I charged $5 an hour to babysit, which was just below minimum wage. The teenager who sits for my kids (and who does a really good job, by the way, I'm lucky to have found her) charges $12 an hour. I think minimum wage is somewhere between $8-$9 in my state. And she's not even as expensive as they come! I have heard of parents paying $15 an hour or more for a babysitter. So even if I'm not buying my own drinks or paying for my own dinner, I'm still shelling out at least $40 for babysitting, and that's if the date doesn't even go well. If I actually meet someone with whom I want to spend more time, that babysitting bill can creep up to $75.
Then there's the incredibly low quality of available men. At least once a week, as I'm swiping left repeatedly, I think to myself, This cannot be all of the eligible bachelors in the greater metropolitan area. But, alas, it is. No offense to any male readers, but good Lord, what has happened to chivalry, meaningful conversation, and an actual meal included on a date? When did dating become a cup of coffee or a few drinks? When did we stop being worth the cost of dinner? And when did men just start assuming every woman wants unsolicited photographs of their genitalia and that we'd be happy to send a similar picture in return? When did men start brazenly asking us if they could come home with us?
Finally, there's also the unfortunate reality that a man could be a _________ (insert criminal activity here: serial killer, rapist, felon, take your pick). It's so sad that I feel the need to do criminal background checks on all of my potential dates.
There's certainly enough to make dating difficult without the burden of past trauma. But dating after narcissistic abuse adds an entire new level of anxiety and general distrust that can make it almost impossible to actually get out of the car when you've arrived at the date location (if you've even managed to get that far).
When I first started dating, everything was so hard. Even the smallest things set off deep emotional triggers for me. For example, a man told a small white lie to make himself appear more attractive. (They almost all do this, as do women, or so I'm told.) Someone who had not been through years of gaslighting would probably have understood and waived it off, but not me. Oh, no. I immediately went to,"If he's lying about this, then what else is he lying about?"
The first time someone kissed me (and I wanted him to kiss me), I ended up in tears. And sex with someone new after years of X using sex as a weapon or withholding sex as punishment wasn't just a hurdle for me; it was a freaking mountain.
I second-guessed everything, analyzed every word, assumed everyone had bad intentions, and basically drove myself crazy. Any feeling I had that was even remotely close to an actual connection with a man made me immediately clam up and close that door before it was even partway open.
The most frustrating part was the realization that it wasn't bad enough that X controlled my life and made me feel like shit for the six years we were together; the trauma of his abuse was still doing this! It was like he was still there, still pulling the strings, still playing that never-ending game of chess, and I was still one of his pieces to position as he saw fit.
I learned two things from my early experiences in dating after abuse:
I wasn't ready.
I really thought I was. I was so excited about dating. I wanted to get dressed up and go out and have someone tell me I looked nice. But I was still in detective mode. I had lived four of the six years with X as a constant detective, always on the lookout for another affair. I didn't realize I was still in that mindset, so I wasn't able to trust anyone.
I was also so terrified of being hurt again, of finding someone else like X, that I couldn't open up to anyone. If you've been with a narcissist, then you know that they pay attention to everything and file it all away to use as ammo against you later on. When I started dating, I was so careful about what I revealed to new men, like I was afraid I was going to hand him a weapon.
I didn't need to be so afraid.
In his book on overcoming psychopathic abuse (Psychopath Free), Jackson MacKenzie says that once you've been with a narcissist, you will be able to spot another one right away. And it turns out he's right. Your gut will tell you everything you need to know, and as long as you trust it, you really will be just fine.
Plus, amidst the anxiety of starting to date, I had somehow forgotten the most important thing: I'm unbreakable. X tried to break me in every way he could, and while I cracked a little, I was never truly broken. If his abuse couldn't break me, then nothing else can. I was so worried about getting hurt again that I forget how much of a badass I am.
I know some of you are fearing dating again. I've read your comments in online support groups. I've even discussed this topic myself in my real life support group. I was just as scared as you are. It's terrifying to even consider giving a piece of your heart to someone when someone else has previously so grossly mistreated it in the past.
But you know what? You're forgetting how badass you are. You might not feel like a badass. But look at what you've already overcome. Someone tried to break you once. And you're still here. And if you can recover from that, then I'm pretty sure you can handle having a drink with a new someone.
Trust your gut: if it feels wrong, then leave. But maybe, just maybe, it will feel right. Maybe it won't be as bad as you think. Maybe this new someone will see just how badass you are and will find you all the more attractive for it.
But whatever you do, don't not date out of fear of meeting someone like your ex. Because that means your ex is still in control. And now that your ex is gone, you have your life back. Live it the way you want to, dating or no dating. Trust your gut, remind yourself that you're a badass, and you will be just fine.
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