Today I decided to teach my daughter a lesson – a life lesson, indeed. You see, I’ve been divorced for three years. Since the divorce my daughter has spent every other weekend with her dad. This has given her the much needed time with her father and has also given me the much needed time to be a single woman. I have slowly learned to love myself again; I’ve learned how to live with my glorious imperfections and also I’ve learned to date after 40. And dating after 40 is a trip. It’s very different from what I knew in my twenties. Over the course of the last three years I’ve dated three very different men. One man traveled nearly nine months out of the year. Therefore, the time we spent together didn’t really involve my daughter very much.
Man number two had issues. Now I won’t bore you with the details but I will say I quickly realized he didn’t deserve the pleasure of my daughter’s presence. We only dated a few months so, while he met Ashley*, he didn’t spend much time with her, other than an occasional visit with us to our church.
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This leads me to man number three. He’s the one I’ve fallen quite hard for. He’s the one I’m excited to unwrap a future with. He’s met Ashley and has had dinner with us on three separate occasions. We’ve been dating for about four months now and have uttered those three magic words… “You want breakfast?” (Just kidding)
For the last few months when my daughter visits her father, I’ve raced across town to be with a wonderful man. Things were moving along splendidly until the unthinkable happened… Ashley’s father cancelled!
Yep, life happened and he was unable to spend weekends with her. He didn’t know when he would be able to return to the weekend schedule. Never did I even imagine such a thing could happen. I was traumatized. What would I do now? How do I date when I have my daughter every weekend? For the past four months my man and I have been living in a protective little bubble, just the two of us. What happens now?
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I was devastated that I didn’t have a Plan B. I can’t send my daughter to a relative’s house every weekend. I can’t schedule play dates for her every weekend. In sheer horror I realized, I may never have sex again. I may never wake up at noon from a night of talking, cooing and cuddling. I would never spend another beautiful evening listing to oldies with a man nibbling at my neck.
For the next three days I tossed and turned and prayed and hoped. “Oh God, please let Ashley’s father change his mind. Let him figure out whatever problem he has and call to say he’s changed his mind.”