I have had some fairly rotten luck when it comes to dating. It is difficult and not fun, and it makes me wonder why the divorce rate is so high in America. Marriages failing- that I can comprehend. But what I don’t understand is how all of these people survived dating long enough to actually meet someone they wanted to marry in the first place. The thing is, there is so much fear. Everyone is so scared all the time. We are scared of being hurt, scared of being forgotten, scared of caring too much or not enough, scared of people seeing how scared we are. And that’s on a good day. On a bad day the fear transitions into warp drive, and it makes people do crazy things like walk away from someone they love or cease eating bread because he might love you more if your calves look smaller. Humans, as a general rule, are a stupid, clumsy, nearsighted species who (almost without exception) desperately want to be loved. It’s truly an unfortunate combination.

And everything is made so much harder when there are little ears and watchful eyes; small, precious people whose dials are tuned in to Channel Mom at all times. It’s hard to slog through confusion, dress up and feel sexy, or stumble your way through a heartbreak when your children’s faces mirror even your most secret, hidden emotions. They watch you stumble and fall and curse and cry and then, I imagine, they take all of this information and file it way back in their brains, in the ever-growing section labeled: To Be Brought Up In Therapy. The sucky-lame-awfulness of dating is hard enough to bear on its own, but with these constant witnesses to your failures, witnesses with quick and impressionable minds, the pressure to figure your shit out is incredibly intense. Being raised by a single mother must be a little bit like living on the set of The Bachelorette- only the torsos aren’t quite as chiseled and most of the bachelors don’t actually seem to be very interested. Which is terribly sad, really. Mothers are such wonderful people. We have been changed by our children, for the better in most cases. We are creatures of habit and compassion who will listen to you and kiss your face when you’re sad, and we hardly ever mind if you fart in the shower or leave nose hairs in the sink because we are comfortable being close to bodies that are not ours. We are soft and patient and funny and interesting, and yes, we are also stretched beyond our limits and tired most of the time. But if a mother is putting forth the effort to make space in her busy life and full heart for you, she must think you are pretty damn special. And it’s ok to feel proud about that one, guys.

When I became single, I made the decision never to bring a man into my childrens’ lives unless he showed great promise. So the past couple of years haven’t been as crazy and confusing for my daughters as they have been for me, because I have yet to be involved with someone who shows even a hint of promise (or at least they’ve kept it very well hidden). Anne Lamott wrote, “The world is filled with weak, shitty little men,” so try “not to take it too personally.” But on the same page she also wrote: “[Love is] hardly ever that clear, that black and white. So you get confused and your pride gets hurt, but that’s the risk, that’s the game. And sometimes it’s worth it.” I believe both of those things, in the abundance of shitty little men but that love is also sometimes worth the risk. So out of stubbornness or naivete or something else entirely, I have tried to remain open, even when that hurts. Sometimes this makes me feel very stupid, but most of the time it feels like the right thing to do.

I have received two very helpful pieces of advice that I repeat to myself often. One was from my dear friend Bob, who told me, “You will most likely find only one person who is good enough to keep. That’s why they call it ‘dating’ and not ‘relationshipping.’” The other was from a client, a gorgeous seventy-year-old writer/mother/divorcee who said, “Just do your life. If the right person shows up somewhere along the way, that’s great. But if not, you’ve still had a good life.” This life business is tough stuff, and love complicates things even more. But that’s the game. And it’s the only game we’ve got.