Daily Excerpts: Excerpt from 57 Steps to Paradise: Finding Love in Midlife and Beyond -- Mom's Got a Date Tonight (Patricia Lorenz)

 

From 57 Steps to Romance: Finding Love in Midlife and Beyond (Lorenz) 

Mom’s Got a Date Tonight

 

When you're used to sharing your life with someone, to be suddenly single can be the most devastating, lonely, life-shaking experience in the world. Just ask any separated, divorced or widowed person. The thought of starting over in a new relationship, though, is the most terrifying thing you can imagine.

In 1987 when my divorce was final after a two-year separation, my four children had different ideas. After a couple years of being my dates at movies and fast food restaurants, I heard comments like, "Mom, why don't you join that singles group at church and meet some men?"

I shot back, “I don't know how to meet men or go out on dates. Besides, who wants a 40-year-old woman with four kids and a big mortgage?"

But the children kept after me to do something for myself, and so I worked up my nerve and joined the Single Again group at church. A few weeks later, the entire membership went out for a fish fry and dancing afterward. Twenty-one women and one man. That poor guy danced with every one of us, bless his heart. When the dance was over, he sort of limped out the door, alone.

I whined to my friends, “I think fish sticks at home would have been more fun than waiting for my turn with Mr. Trip-the-Light-Fantastic."

For the next few months, I kept my social calendar filled by attending my son's high school basketball games, watching Julia cheerlead, attending Jeanne’s piano recitals, getting more involved at church, and treating myself to an occasional dinner out with other single women friends.

Then, one day it happened. A man who advertised on the radio station where I worked invited me out to dinner. I was terrified, and my children knew it. Julia beamed, "Mom, he's probably really cute and maybe even rich. Maybe he'll take you to a really nice restaurant."

Well, he was rich, all right. Too rich. He not only took me to a very nice restaurant, he mentioned that he owned the place and that it was a tax write-off for one of the state's biggest companies that he also owned. He'd just returned from South America on an art-buying expedition and was eager to take me to his penthouse to show me his antiques. Okay, I can see you howling and slapping your knee. I know it sounds fishy, straight out of a B movie. But it’s all true. He did own the restaurant and was really super rich, something that was so far from my reality that I honestly didn’t know how to say “no” to the guy when he insisted he show me his digs, but I worked up my courage and told him a big lie—that I didn’t like antiques. No way was I going to this geezer’s condo even if it was enormous and on a lake. Believe me, a woman who had to struggle all afternoon to find one decent going-out-to-dinner outfit midst her suburban wardrobe of jeans and jogging clothes, had no business with a rich tycoon twenty years her senior who celebrated every other topic of conversation with another drink.

 "Lord, I'm sorry about the lie. I really do like antiques," I whispered aloud as I drove myself home when the date was over.

At home that night, Jeanne was waiting up for me. "So, Mom, tell me all about him. Did you have fun?"

I took a deep breath. "Honey, he was just too old, too rich, and drank too much to suit my tastes."

"Mother, you're never going to find a man with that attitude," Jeanne quipped.

I prayed a lot that night. "Okay, Lord, I need a little help here. I 'm not really looking for a man, am I? Don't I have enough to do with my life without complicating it with another adult? I'm just getting used to the idea of being head of household, and I rather like the responsibility. You were proud of me, weren't you, when I learned to use an axe to split wood for the wood burner? When I revved up the chain saw to cut the wood down to size, I felt like Paul Bunyan, but after a weekend of wood splitting and sawing, I don't have the energy to smile politely, let alone look for a date. Amen."

A year later, after putting over 15,000 miles on my little car running the kids all over kingdom come with their myriad of activities, it happened again. My second date.

This gentleman owned an advertising agency, and we went out under the guise of my doing some copywriting work for him. We didn't talk much business during dinner, but when the check came and I offered to help pay, he pointed out that the meal was tax deductible. I didn't feel much like a date after that, but the real clincher as to why I never went out with him again was the fact that the entire conversation centered on his two passions in life: golf and tennis. For a woman who has never picked up a club or a racket, it was a real D&B night. Dull and boring.

When I reported to my kids about that fiasco, Jeanne replied, "Mom, that's what you said about your date last year. You're too picky. Do you like being single?"

"So, what's wrong with being single? Just because I spent most of my adult years being married doesn't mean I can't re-adjust, does it?"

During the next year, my social life got busier, without any more dates, I might add. I ushered for a few musicals at a Milwaukee theater with another single mother, then watched the performances on the house. I joined the education committee at church. I did some volunteer writing for a local singles magazine. Andrew, my youngest, and I made new friends when we joined a single parents and children's group that met for dinner and a discussion every week. On Fridays, we watched Michael play basketball and Julia cheerlead. On Saturdays, we rented movies, popped popcorn, and relaxed at home.

The next year another friend called. "You have to meet Ben. He's single, your age, no kids, and wants to meet someone who likes quiet evenings at home watching movies on TV. He doesn't go out much, but he's very good about fixing things around the house. You might like him."

Like him because he's a handyman? What sort of personality trait is that? I wondered if Mary decided to go out with Joseph because he was handy with wood. "Well, at least maybe this guy can fix my snow blower," I thought to myself.

Ben came over early one Saturday afternoon. We talked for a couple of hours. I could tell right away he wasn't someone I wanted to spend any more time with. Rather than waste his time I explained that I had to run some errands. He said, "I'll come with you, and then we'll rent a movie to watch later on."

I sputtered a bit and then muttered something like, "Well, if that's what you really want to do."

I asked myself, Why am I so wishy-washy? I can't even say “no” to someone I know isn’t Mr. Right.

Just as the movie began, my children started coming home: Julia from her baby-sitting job, Andrew from visiting some friends, and Michael from his job at a local pharmacy. So, there we were in the family room. Me, in my big green rocker next to the wood burner, Ben on the couch next to my chair, Andrew next to Ben, and Julie next to Andrew. Michael plopped down on the love seat. A few minutes later, Tony and John, Michael's friends, came over and they squeezed in on the couch and the loveseat.

Well, now wasn't this cozy? Mom, her date, 8-year-old Andrew, and four teenagers. Michael kept looking at me sort of funny, like, "Where did you find this one, Mom?" I felt like I was on trial. Ben stood up, rubbed his slicked-back hair, and went over to investigate the innards of the wood burner again. He liked that contraption obviously more than he liked being in a room full of jovial teens, a full-of-energy second grader, and a woman who yawned a lot.

I wondered what the children thought of him, and I secretly wished he'd go home so I could put on my lounging pajamas and get comfortable. I wanted to read the paper and write a letter to my folks. Instead, I had to sit there and entertain this humorless gentleman who was probably thinking to himself that he hadn’t expected a crowd when he asked if he could come over to get acquainted.

I closed my eyes for a second and prayed, “Lord, I know my friends and I have been grumbling about my meeting a nice man for years. Here's one sitting in my family room, and I can hardly wait until he goes home. Why am I so fickle? Do I really need or want to find someone special and get married again?”

These thoughts kept flitting through my head the entire eight hours and 20 minutes Ben stayed at our house that Saturday. When he finally left at midnight, I had to admit that being with someone for the wrong reasons is a lot worse than not being with anyone at all.

When I crawled into bed that night I thought to myself, All right. I know I'm not ready to settle down again. I have four kids to finish raising. I'm already settled. Besides, I like who I am. The man of my dreams, the one who's easy-going, sensitive, intelligent, interesting, has a great sense of humor and a deep faith, just hasn't come around yet. Maybe he never will. That's okay. I feel like there's a light burning inside me that's all mine. My light. The one that keeps reminding me who I really am.

Being single made me feel radiant for years although I have to admit that for many years I still asked my friends to keep their eyes open for a good man, preferably a pilot who golfs. Why? Because I figured he’d be gone a lot and I’d still have time to let my own light shine through.

For more posts about Patricia and her book, click HERE.

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