This guy I’m dating called my
kids a “pain in the ass” last night because they were jacking up his game. He
was trying to be all sexy-like, chef-ing up his signature spaghetti and clams
to the mellow strains of Coltrane, sipping red wine, and delivering beers and
sliced cheese to me on the couch like some kind of fine dining maître d' who makes house calls.
As the mouth-watering aroma
of garlic sautéing in olive oil punctuated by the occasional hiss of noodle water
disintegrating on a hot burner mingled and meandered our way, he attempted to
cozy up to me on the couch. That’s when his balls fielded a 4-year-old foot, my
hair was pulled from behind by a 1-year-old crib fugitive and my private maître
d’—who had been kissing my neck before being so savagely interrupted—gasped to
my ear lobe that my kids are a huge pain in the ass. I giggled.
I should probably tell you
that the guy I’m dating is the father of aforementioned ballbuster and fugitive
and moonlights as my ex-husband.
I’m dating my ex-husband. I’m
not really sure why, other than I’m not really sure why not. He’s smart, sexy,
really digs my (his) kids, cooks better than any guy I know, loves feeding me
his creations and has a way with words. Basically, I got to realizing that I’m
this single woman who’s been looking to spend time with someone (but not just
anyone) and there’s this smokin’ hot single dad who lives twenty minutes down
the road and has a thing for chicks with a crazy streak a mile wide.
I’ve kissed a couple frogs this past year after separating and divorcing, but I ultimately came to realize that after our breakup he’s become the man I was looking for all along.
Turns out, that guy happens
to dig me. Matter of fact, he’s way
into me. I’m not really sure why. I’m a bigger pain in the ass than my kids,
frankly. But he seems to get off on it. So what the hell—we went on a date a
couple weeks ago. It was strange and amazing. We had a fantastic time talking
about TV and movies and books and people and life and social media shenanigans and dating
after divorce; how it always felt like something was missing but we kept at it
because it seemed like the thing to do when you’re desperately trying to
recover from a haunted heart. At the end of the date, we feverishly made out in
my driveway so we made plans to hang out again. And again. And again.
We spend a lot of time
talking and getting to know each other. He asks question after question, and seems
genuinely interested in who I am. He wants to know how I feel, what I think, where
I’ve been, where I want to go. It’s exciting and scary and yeah, weird, but
whatever, you know?
I’ve kissed a couple frogs
this past year after separating and divorcing, but I ultimately came to realize that
after our breakup he’s become the man I was looking for all along.
I kinda dig this writer dude
who cooks and intimately knows what it’s like to wrangle three children who
drive you crazy/you love madly and he really likes me and perhaps most
importantly, my kids really seem to like him.
Besides, he knows my last
relationship ruined me for marriage. I’m not looking to get married ever
again and he seems cool with it. His last relationship was a doozy as well.