No Pride, Just Prejudice

I think we can all agree that prejudice is a bad thing, right? I mean, no matter what political persuasion you claim as your own, no good comes from judging people based on ethnicity or religion or girth.

Having said that, though, let’s be equally honest. In the privacy of our own psyches, we cling to at least a few biases that make perfect sense. Maybe we’re not proud of them, but we’re certainly not going to let them go either. Sometimes they’re funny – men hate to ask for directions. Sometimes they’re words to the wise – older people are bad drivers. Sometimes they’re really just common sense – movies with Madonna in them are most likely going to suck.

These personal prejudices aren’t doing anyone any harm. There’s a degree of truth in most of them. However, I’ve become aware lately of one popular stereotype that really needs to be dealt with here and now. And that’s this idea that men with school-age kids are somehow undate-able. It took me more than three years of divorced life to stumble across this widely-held belief, and I have to say that discovering it was not unlike when I discovered there was no Santa.

Looking back, I suppose I should have seen the signs. Over the past few years, there have been a fair amount of first dates that seemed to go relatively well. Well enough to merit a second or third date, anyway. Most of the time, though, those return engagements never materialized. For every hour spent with that particular person, I’d spend three more working it over in my head, trying to figure out what went wrong. Honestly, never once did I connect my failure to my having kids.

Then, against my better judgment, I took another detour back through the land of online dating. Figuring full-disclosure is the best approach in that world (explain to me the wisdom of posting your 30-year-old high school graduation picture when you know you can’t show up for the date looking like that), I mentioned in my profile that I have two young children. Alongside that, I posted a couple of pictures of me with my kids. They’re so much a part of me, why not share them?

As it turns out, though, this was akin to wearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt to pick up women at the symphony. It’s very counter-productive. Less than half a dozen women responded to the ad. Out of this small group, there was one in particular who seemed great. Outdoorsy. Funny. Cute. I gave her my number and she called just as I was getting my daughter and her friend started on their school science project. I asked if she could hold for a minute. She suggested trying me back in 10. I never heard from her again.

(It was not unlike my previous online dating excursion, where I heard back from a realtor selling million dollar homes in Beverly Hills. I mentioned that I was looking for a house, but for much less money and in the San Fernando Valley. It was at that point when she said she had to hang up call me from her car. I never heard from her again either.)

Not long after my daughter and her homework clearly cost me a callback, I started up another round of correspondence with a promising prospect. Once again, we seemed to hit it off okay. Then, when it came time to plan the first meeting, I explained it’d have to wait until the following weekend, when I wouldn’t have my kids. Upon hearing that, she informed me this just wouldn’t work for her. And we never met up.

A pattern was emerging. I started reading more closely some of the ads I’d responded to, and sure enough, nearly all of these women made it clear their kids were grown up. One ad even went so far as to compare date-seekers posting pictures of their kids to pimps. (In hindsight, that picture of me in the lavender suit and hat with the ostrich feather was probably not the best one to post.)

At first, I was stunned. I wasn’t sure which hit me harder, the fact that kids were a problem for anyone, or the fact that I hadn’t even considered that notion before alerting the world to their existence. I’d naively thought that showing my commitment to them would be considered a plus. Once again, I prove why I know even less about dating than my 12-year-old son. I’m not blaming the women who alerted me to their reluctance about getting involved with a guy who has young children. I totally understand their point of view. If you’re going to be in a relationship, you want to really be in a relationship.

That means being able to spend two weekends together in a row, if you so chose. That means not having to wrap up an evening early because the babysitter needs to be home by 11. That means getting away together for a week in Jamaica when the mood strikes. Single mothers just spent the past several years of their lives driving to soccer practice and only seeing movies featuring animated talking animals want. It was now time to focus on themselves, not wait for the every-other-weekend when a guy with young kids can spend time with her.

Believe me, I get how my life might at first seem an unlikely match for anyone. Between work, cleaning the apartment, grocery shopping, house-hunting and more work, my life is pretty jammed already. Throw in the every-other-weekend driving to karate and baseball practice, supervising playdates and allowing my son to kick my ass in Madden ’10, kids just add another layer to the schedule. I’ve tried coming up with a variety of plans to make myself date-available – leave work at 6:30 every day, no matter how much is left to be done; set up at least three nights every non-kid week to go out with either a friend or a date; allow my kids to go on playdates and sleepovers even when it’s my weekend with them.

Each of these minor moves has helped a little. My to-do list has a few more items crossed off at the end of the week than it used to (helpful hint: always write “Make a to-do list at the top of your to-do list, so you get the morale boost from having something to cross off immediately). It’s never going to be easy to find time to get my car washed, let alone start up a new relationship.

All we need is a chance. Which isn’t easy to get because our reputation precedes us. First date conversation skips right past what kind of music we like or what our star sign is, and right into whether or not our kid weekends match up. But here’s the thing. This is a marathon, not a sprint. Schedules shift and change. Kids get older. And we can eventually be more than available to someone interested in us.

There are plenty of reasons I have essentially been undate-able for going on four years no. I sleep on a futon and don’t have a bedroom (I gave up mine so my son could have his own room). There are days I still mope around about being divorced, as well as pine for my lost Rebound relationship. There always seems to be more days in the month than dollars in my bank account. I have a devotion to the Boston Red Sox that borders on the freakish. I’ve been known to spend hours obsessing over my theories on what’s happening in Lost.

Worst of all, even after 50 years, I’m still a repressed Midwestern WASP at heart. Expressing emotion to me has always been like going to the dentist. I know that both have to be done, but doing both feels incredibly uncomfortable. This tendency never served me very well both before and during my marriage, and it’s not exactly a plus when it comes to dating either.

I like to think that there is still hope. Something has slowly, surely been changing me – being a single dad. The more time I spend on my own with my kids, the more they bring out the nurturing side of me. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s growing truer every week. My time with my kids is less than it used to be, so I have to make the most out of every minute we’re together. It’s important to let them know how important they are, so if I can learn how to do that with my kids, I’m sure I can learn how to do that with someone I’d date.

I suppose I should stop right there, lest I ensure the only date I can get is one that has to be inflated first. Maybe it’s best to just some up like this. We single dads have dozens of reasons why you single moms won’t want to be with us. Don’t pass us by because of the one thing we do right – making our kids our number one priority in life. (Or at least a close second to the Red Sox.)

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