Maybe I Stop Dating Men Who Aren't Dads

For reasons beyond not being willing or able to have their babies.

My first dating story (on the paid subscriber side) was so much fun to tell! Here’s a dating story I can share with the masses.

For some reason, the dating app algorithms like to put me and late 30s guys with no kids in the same orbit. And for some other bizarre reason, more than a few of these guys are like “hell yeah, swipe right on the woman with a litter of children.”

Reader, we all know how this goes, but I kept saying yes to these dates for longer than I should have because I was just having fun. And even if we couldn’t bond over the struggle of balancing Little League and custody schedules, these guys were good for fun.

I’d say mutual fun for 99% involved, except poor Kris.

We chatted on the app we matched on and then moved that convo to text probably 5 days before we finally met up for dinner. He lived just down the road, and we had great text chemistry. I didn’t have high expectations for the date, but I wasn’t dreading it.

We met at a local steakhouse, exchanged hugs, were seated, ordered drinks, did the usual first date convo, laugh, smile- all good things, all good vibes.

After we placed our food order, I glanced at my phone and noticed missed calls from Scott and a text message. It was something about Wallace, the then 4 year old- the one who’s had multiple febrile seizures since he was 2.

“I’m so sorry. I need to call my kid’s dad. Something happened.” I excused myself from the table and headed to the parking lot to take the call so I could hear.

“Wallace swallowed glass.”

“What?!”

Scott then tells me how a picture frame broke in the boys room and as he’s cleaning it up Wallace looks at him with a look of fear, and he notices a piece of glass is unaccounted for. Lowell confirms he saw Wallace put it in his mouth.

So I spend the next 10-15 minutes pacing in the parking lot, on the phone with the pediatric ER nurse while Scott keeps an eye on Wallace. Eventually, the consensus is to let it pass, and to be on the lookout for blood or discomfort. Apparently, a piece of glass smaller than a quarter is probably fine.

Our food was delivered to the table just as I got back.

“I’m so sorry. Kids! My youngest swallowed a piece of glass!” I sighed as I sat down.

Kris looked me in the eyes and said, “Hey, if you don’t want to be here, you can go. You don’t have to make up an excuse.”

I briefly laughed because that’s OBVIOUSLY a joke, right? … Right?

It was not.

“Oh. No, no! I’m not making it up, Kris. I’m so sorry. This would all make a lot more sense if you knew Wallace,” I said as I tried to break the awkward silence.

We ate our meals, the tension remained palpable. As I set my fork down after my last bite, he told me I was free to go, that he would get the check.

“I’m sure you’ve got to go check on your kid.”

I mean, I didn’t. It was handled, but I happily took the out. I thanked him for dinner, we exchanged awkward side hugs, and I left.

I texted him as soon as I got home to thank him for dinner & drinks, and told him again I was so sorry about the interruption.

Never. Heard from him. Again.

And that’s fine! A good lesson to learn: no more dates with men who could never understand that swallowing glass is TOTALLY something 4 year olds do and NOT an over-the-top excuse to get out of dinner.