When I first told you, my dear readers, about the ex who had come back, a few of you warned me:

“Sorry to throw cold water, but I think the whole turn of events is more than a little bizarre,” wrote my reader, MC.

“And he’s suddenly got a blog! (eyerolls). He wants attention from you…. But why? I think it’s kind of weird that he’s going to such lengths.”

Weird, indeed. But the writer in me was too damn flattered to see that might have been screaming for attention — from me, from all of you.

“I was hurt by you once before,” I told him over dinner. “I need you to be honest with me.”

“I will be honest,” he said. He reached out and touched me.

“I will, too,” I said.

But was I being honest with myself?

Or was I too caught up in my fantasy of him?

When he’d first tried to contact me again, after so many years, I knew he was acting from an unconscious place. He’d sounded so confused, but he was persistent. I met him for coffee with my guard up. But as many of you know, unconsciousness can have a rippling effect.

We had dinner, and there was no hiding it: the crush I’d had on him six years ago was still there, stronger than ever.

I wanted to believe that he wasn’t on the rebound. I wanted to believe that his tears were real.

~~~

A few weeks ago, we made plans to see a movie. But then I got his email, asking if he could come over instead, so we could “make out.”

He went on to say that he “could use some intimacy.”

Yeah, I could use some intimacy, too.

But something in me said “no.” I suggested that we go on a walk.

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and we set out on his favorite trail, near his home. He explained that he always took the “high trail.” But today, in order to catch the sunset, he wanted to take the “low trail.”

Within 10 steps onto the dirt path, he stopped. I stopped.

A woman was walking towards us: she was thin, attractive, with big brown eyes.

“This is awkward,” he said.

But I didn’t know what he was talking about.

She paused. He introduced us. It was his ex-fiance!

If this was a sign from the universe, it could not have been clearer. In sixty long seconds, I saw their grief, love, sadness and pain.

Then she went her way, and we went ours. But he was gone. I saw that, too.

Less than eight hours later, he would send me another email:

“I am going to take a step back from everything,” he wrote. “I am concerned that our physical attraction is the wedge that keeps us from being the friends I’d hoped we could be.”

He went on:

“I am still too raw and uncomfortable with my inabilities to cope with the loss of [my ex-fiance]. I’m not even sure how I feel anymore. Until I do, it would serve you, me, and her if I used my time to heal, learn, and grow.”

We haven’t spoken since.

In such a short time, he’d thrown me some crumbs. They were delicious. But I deserve more than crumbs, I know I do.

Talk about cold water! So tempting, but… Photo by coniferine

The beautiful, spunky, bold The Quest for T put me up to this dare…. She emailed me recently:

“I’m making a list, starting today, of traits I have loved in men I’ve been with. I’m going to list the next perfect man I choose for me. It will be an empowering exercise…What about you? Are you in too? Make a list with me!”

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a sucker for dares.

First, thanks for reading our lists.

Second, although I might print this list out and put it under my pillow, I’m not on a mission to check off these qualities in every man I meet. Check! Check!

Instead, in my own life, I’m striving to embrace all of these traits.

As The Quest for T says oh-so-well, “I am going to be this list. We only get what we give away…”

This is only the tip of the iceberg on my list…but here goes:

~~~

You help me carry my heavy baggage. I’ll help you carry yours.

You look me in the eyes, really look. Neither of us turns away. Well, except to blink.

You get my dry sense of humor… and actually laugh.

You hold my hand without letting go, even when we hit rough patches. You can hold both hands if you want.

You get along with your family – or try to.

You want to stretch alongside me, physically and emotionally.

You like to have sex (in the morning, afternoon, evening…?) You also love to kiss.

You are financially responsible.

You cheer me on. I have my pom-poms ready to cheer you on!

You like to cook, and feed me. (I make a mean lasagna!)

You make every effort to communicate, genuinely and respectfully.

You want to live a committed, open, and honest life.

~~~

Now, let’s open up the floor to you: men and women, yes YOU…

What are some of the top traits on YOUR list? Name just one if you can.

Read more single parent lists!

Ramblings of a Harrassed Single Mom

5 Ks and Cabernets

Attaining Me

Little Man’s Mom

Something feels off this week, and I’m doing my best to get back on.

Some crazy person is trying to infiltrate my blog with the most personal, heinous attacks. His IP address is in Denmark. Stop it. Do you hear me?

I’m doing the best I can to shake it off.

~~~

In the meantime, A. has asked me not to blog about him. (I’ve been doing well, haven’t I?)

But I can’t hold it inside anymore. This is my blog, isn’t it?

Not long after our dinner date, A. was off to the hospital to have surgery on his shoulder (it had been scheduled a while back).

He was going to be laid out for a while. How could I see him again? Another date was out of the question, while he was healing.

But why couldn’t I just wait, patiently, for him to get back on his feet?

I could have called him. I could have sent him a card.

I can be so damn impatient. So, I offered to make him dinner.

This was not just about feeding him.

I wanted to deliver more than just food. So, I poured myself into the first-ever dairy-free lasagna I’d ever made. (He doesn’t eat dairy, which you might recall.)

It came out kind of funky with soy mozzarella cheese — I even cut little hearts out of the noodles.

My heart pounded as I drove to his house. I hadn’t been here for six years. It felt oddly familiar.

Still, I knew this wasn’t about offering dinner. This was about offering myself.

“Here, have me–”

Hold on, what about my intention to be virtuous with myself?

Please, let me stay conscious and aware.

During our brief re-encounters so far, A. has been so flattering and kind — but something about him seems unconscious. He has much unfinished business. Be careful, I tell myself. My walls are down. His are up.

So, I parked and got the lasagna out of the back seat. He heard me coming up the steps.

“Come in!” he said. “The door is open.”

I let myself in, and his home looked exactly how I’d remembered: there were photos of his kids on every wall, his living room was immaculate. (I wish I could say that my home had everything in its place!).

“Back here!” he yelled. “Keep coming around.”

I put the lasagna in the kitchen. But I was lost. His room wasn’t where I’d remembered, just off the kitchen.

“Keep coming!” he yelled, and I wandered down the hall.

There he was, laid out in his bed, with his right arm up in a sling. With his one useful hand, he paused the movie he was watching.

He looked vulnerable. He had a fat lip, from the tube the doctors had stuck up his mouth during surgery.

I stood at the edge of his bed. Why was I feeling so vulnerable, too?

We joked about the fact that I could take advantage of him, in his injured state — and then blog about it. Ha ha. After a good laugh, I said I was leaving.

When I got home, there was an email:

“Rachel,

I don’t know what words would be appropriate so please allow me to
make an attempt:

Scrumptious; delicious; delectable; insatiably devour-able,
satisfying, and every other adjective applicable to a meal worth its
weight in culinary gold.

Thank you.”

Please tell me: How do you keep it together when you’re feeling vulnerable?

I haven’t felt this wide open in a long time. It’s very uncomfortable.

~~~

P.S. Speaking of vulnerable, Depot Dad starts his radiation today, and he needs all the support he can get, online and in person. Send him some, okay?

Photo from coniferine

For as long as I can remember, I have imagined marriage and the baby carriage.

Life didn’t quite work out that way.

When I started to date again as a single mom, I was set on finding Him and tying the knot. I dated. And dated. And dated some more. And along the way, I grew as a woman and a mother. (I’m still working on it.)

But something has shifted in the past couple of years: I still want to be with a man. I want to laugh, talk, make love, share a meal.

But I’m not sure if I want to get married again. Do any of you feel this way, too?

The truth: I have a deep fear of being abandoned again. Sometimes, it’s hard to separate my fears from what I really want and need. I’m trying to face what terrifies me. I do know that:

I don’t want to have another baby.

Or open a joint savings account with a partner.

Or own a home together.

I’m not saying that men are irrelevant.

Not at all. If you know me, then you know that I adore men, and I’m working damn hard on being friends before lovers.

Do you see yourself getting married again? (Or, maybe for the first time?)

Is this part of your life plan? Or not? Let’s hear why.

Photo: That’s my baby…. This photo was taken soon after I became a single mom.

No, I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself. (Although, believe me, I’ve been to more than one wedding in that state of mind!)

This was a friend’s kid-free wedding, eight hours away. I got overwhelmed by the hassle of finding childcare for the weekend. Also, in my book, a wedding is all about family and kids (even if I did understand that my friend’s kid-free policy was a financial decision.)

Have you been to a wedding as a single parent?

Did you have fun? Did you bring a date? Or, did you go alone?

One single dad I know was surprised about how he felt during a wedding he’d been invited to: hopeful.

RJ Jaramillo – the single dad of three kids, whom I also met through my site — made a video all about it.

He says that he was surprised he got through the ceremony without feeling cynical or sad.

“I watched the whole ceremony with hope,” RJ, founder of SingleDad.com, says. “There is hope.”

Instead of feeling distraught, RJ realized that “you fall down, you dust yourself off, and then you start all over again.”

You might know RJ already, since he’s a You Tube master!

You can watch RJ talk about the recent wedding here:

Have you ever gone to a wedding as a single parent? Let’s hear about it.

Do you remember the single dad who was seeking advice this summer about the single mom whom he’d fallen for?

He wanted a relationship. But this single mom was very clear when he asked, “So, are we a couple?”

She just laughed and said ‘We are just friends with benefits.”

So, he visited the blog and asked: “Should I hang on and hope that things will turn around?”

You, my dear readers, answered.

Blue Bella, for example, said:

“If at all possible try to remain friends if you can. . . but don’t be afraid to move on. There is a woman out there who’s ready to fall in love with you - when you’re available!”

(Side note here: Blue Bella had early contractions this week and is on bed rest in the hospital. Send her good vibes!)

Anyway, Joseph took all of your advice to heart. He just emailed me:

“Hello Rachel,

I  just wanted to thank you for the insight that I received from your readers.

I have moved on from the current quasi-relationship of being friends with benefits.

By the way, we are still good friends, just now without the benefits.”

Then, he went on to say:

“Quite by accident I happened to be in a park with my kids and started talking to this woman. It was weird how we just connected with each other.

She’s a single mom, and I asked for her number……well, now we are seeing each other. It is an awesome experience to be truly with someone. We can talk about anything and everything. Hell she even made me breakfast in bed…no one has ever done that for me, ever!!”

Doesn’t that just make you feel all warm inside?

Speaking of getting teary-eyed, if you want to read the most heartwarming post of the week…

check out Depot Dad.

~~~

Some days, my head is spinning with anecdotes, hearsay, and even deep thoughts. So, I’ll keep going.

If you’re single in L.A. and want to join the newest, savviest singles’ scene, go here: Singular City.

For single parents of teens, there’s a great piece in the premiere issue of Singular magazine by Casey Green about Dating: Is your teenager watching you?

~~~

Lastly, do you have any updates? Let’s hear ‘em!

• Does anyone have some hot dating news?
• Did anyone get a new pet?
• Is anyone going pumpkin picking this weekend?
• How about your favorite blog post of the week?

Photo from cover of Singular magazine

Just after writing about that single dad who wonders if he should reconcile with his ex, the latest issue of Cosmo hit the stands, with Kate Hudson’s “sexy new views on relationships.”

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call her views “sexy.”

As you probably know, Kate and Chris Robinson — who’s dad to their four-year-old, Ryder — split in 2006 after six years of marriage. Kate has since dated dated Lance Armstrong and Owen Wilson.

While Kate was giving her Cosmo interview, her ex-husband walked in the door. He apparently didn’t ring the bell. Or, knock.

“Look, we’re still basically living together!” Kate said. “We’ve figured it out. I mean, obviously nothing’s perfect.”

They’ve figured what out?

This screams boundaries!

Are they back together? Sharing a bedroom? Having an open relationship? It’s not clear.

As you know, my ex isn’t in my life. But that’s not the case for most of my single mom friends — and I’m blown away by how many of their exes just walk right into their homes and hang out.

Granted, I don’t know any of my friends’ exes who actually have their house keys. But when Dad come over to pick up the kids, he might sit on the sofa, turn on the TV, or say, “I’m hungry.”

I’ve asked my girlfriends, “Do you do this when you pick up your kids from his home?”

“No, of course not!”

Does this ring true for any of you?

Photo of Kate Hudson from Fool’s Gold Premiere, PRphotos.com

While I’m sure that Dan would love to take credit for the quote, it actually came from the writings of Philo of Alexandria, the renowned Hellenistic philosopher who lived 2,000 years ago.

I’ve been thinking about struggle lately — because I finished writing a piece about trying to forgive my ex-boyfriend, the Israeli. Does this resonate for you, too?

In the current issue of Jewish Living magazine, I write about our painful breakup last year: “Forgiveness 2.0 Not every problem can be solved with a few keystrokes.”

Beware of dating a writer, have you heard that one? During our break up, I lashed out and hurt him—in my column, in black and white… I was harsh. I said he was “good with animals and kids—but not women.” I said that living with him was like having “two children to cook for and clean up after.” I even exposed his financial troubles and smoking habits.

By the time the column ran, five months later, Mae and I had moved out and moved on to another city. But the damage had been done.

Y. called me the day the column came out. (Someone must have tipped him off, because he’d never read a single one my columns in the year we’d lived together.) He called me “evil” and said that he’d never forgive me for hurting him in public like that.

His call was followed by an e-mail from the woman who’d introduced us. She reprimanded me for “trying to publicly shame and denigrate” Y. I responded right away and copied Y on the message. I was sorry I hurt him, I wrote. “I’m sorry that things ended this way too.”

I never heard back from either one of them. It didn’t occur to me at the time to try a different way of reaching out.

After all, e-mail has become my primary means of communication. With it, I’m able to keep in touch with friends around the world. It’s fast, it’s concise, and because it’s about monologues, not conversation, it saves me an incredible amount of time.

But that convenience, I’ve begun to realize, has cost me something: closeness, intimacy, and genuine emotion.

E-mail is factual, not authentic. Fingertips on a keyboard can never express nuance or capture the sound of a voice choking up. And a frown-face emoticon is a long way from real tears.

Clearly, if I was ever going to mend fences with Y, I needed to find a better way to ask for forgiveness.

Is there any one you’ve wanted to say “sorry” to… but haven’t yet? Have you tried?

Have you ever tried to apologize by email, and had it flop… like mine did?

Image by The Saint

It was the first time I’d read an honest, open piece by a single dad who was parenting solo — and trying to date. I wanted to invite that writer, Trey Ellis, out for coffee. But he lived in southern California — so I sent him an email. Our correspondence began. I’ve since met Trey a couple of times.

At last, Trey’s memoir, Bedtime Stories: Adventures in the Land of Single-Fatherhood. Trey, who also pens the Father of the Year blog for Babble.com, has generously offered up an excerpt for all of you. Enjoy.

~~~
Bedtime Stories: Adventures in the Land of Single-Fatherhood is the story of the journey of my first few years as a single dad charged with principally raising my three-year-old daughter Ava and her eight-month-old brother Chet. In this excerpt their mom, Anna, has changed her name to Carmen have been separated for about four months. We sold our old house in tony Santa Monica and the kids and I had just moved to funky Venice Beach.

EVERY MOMENT SPENT UNPACKING in the new house, every moment spent driving to and from the hardware store for more drywall anchors to resecure the closet shelves where they had ripped out of the fragile walls, every moment spent overloading a Bed, Bath & Beyond shopping cart with bedding, trash cans, a twelve-piece knife set, shower mats, shower curtains, shower caddies, and a magic marker that insisted it truly was (making any scratch on any piece of wood disappear), every moment spent clapping my hands together in fake enthusiasm and chirping to Ava, I know!

Let’s see who can stuff the most old newspaper (that had been used to pack the dishes) into the trash bag!—every moment spent righting our capsized ship felt like a scene from an overly earnest Lifetime movie. Chet only had to touch me with his little fat feet, and tears would jump out of my eyes. Ava only had to tug her little brother’s pants over his jumbo diaper, and my heart would ooze lava to the driest and most hidden corners of my chest.

We were on our way. In a leaky ship, as I soon would learn when the winter rains came, but it was our ship. Only ours.

I decided to train myself to start calling Anna “Carmen.” I decided that it would actually be easier for my heart. My Anna had disappeared in some mysterious accident—flying an ultralight solo across the Sahara or eaten by the locals during an expedition in the Purari Delta in New Guinea. This Carmen person, with her dreadlock hair extensions and some sort of mystical, fist-size rock tied around her neck, was maybe my late wife’s kooky sister.

This Carmen person had a new special friend named Doug. The first time Ava had mentioned him I think I pretended not to hear; but over the next week, she said Mommy’s friend Doug enough times to render impossible any plausible deniability.

As part of the Dissolution of Marriage contract, we had vowed not to introduce significant others to the kids until we knew the new person for six months. I took a deep breath and reminded her of that fact when she came over because it was her night to put the kids to bed. In my house. I had given her a key. Yet another reason for Lucia [our nanny and best friend] to yell at me.

Photo of Trey, Ava, and Chet taken during their trip to France this summer

So, come on over to the kid’s room at Dad’s House today and share your thoughts.

Thanks!