The Online Dating Profile of a Single Mother

Back in my carefree days, you know before motherhood, I had a profile on a dating website. I spent some time ricocheting around my city on dates with a random and quirky selection of individuals, but I never found lasting love.

Well… fast forward to present day.

Finding myself single again, but this time with a toddler in tow, I recently logged back into my old OK Cupid profile. I barely recognized the girl I saw there, but I liked her immediately. She was witty, sparky and cheekily confident. I felt a pang of loss for the personality and promise that I saw peeking through the lines of her profile and wondered how different it would look today. I tried to tweak the profile to my current situation, but realized it was hopeless – every aspect of it needed changing. Portraying myself as a party animal would be false advertising, and, unable to shake the image of a disgruntled would-be suitor calling the Better Business Bureau on my defective product, I decided to scrap the old profile and start again.

Except, how the hell does a single mom market her brand? I didn’t even know what I was looking for, but I had even less of an idea of what I was offering. Then I had a thought – what if I was just 100% honest? Given that a completely honest dating profile is as rare as hen’s teeth at the best of times, I couldn’t help but wonder how my real life would compare to the “Facebook” life that so many of us show to the world. Instead of putting my best foot forward, what if I stuck it in my mouth (as I so often do) and told the undignified, unadorned truth?

So here it is:

My self-summary:

I’m a breastfeeding, toy fixing, story reading mom of… Oh wait. You mean, you want to hear about me? Just me? Not how I relate to a miniature dictator? Wow. Where do I start?

I’m not as old as I feel at 6 o’clock on a Sunday morning, but my youthful endeavors are, if not behind me, then certainly losing ground. I’m up for anything and love spontaneity, as long as it fits around nap time.

I have overinflated body confidence. I watched first hand as it performed the types of miracles you see in bad sex shows, except I used a small human in lieu of ping-pong balls. No matter what size my jeans are, it’s impossible not to respect the hell out of it after that. I’ll expect you to do the same.

What am I doing with my life?

Which life? I have two. In the first, I’m a professional woman who wears ambitious clothes and takes no crap. In the second, I not only take a lot of crap, but frequently wear it too. Occasionally, I’m rewarded with a glimpse into a third life, where I can drink cocktails and pretend that I’m not ridiculously excited about being allowed out of the house after 6 pm.

What am I really good at?

Making a house look tidy in 15 minutes. Just don’t open that cupboard. Or use the bathroom.

Reasoning with the chronically absurd. Counting backwards. Specifically, from 8 p.m. Right now, it’s 5 hours and 13 minutes until bedtime. Hiding the fact that I’m eating chocolate. Multitasking. I said multiTASKING, not multiCOMPLETING, OK? Disguising carrots as other food.

The first things people usually notice about me?

My back, as I chase after a toddler. Small person, big voice. Applies to me AND the toddler. Well, where do you think he got it from?!

On a typical Friday night I am…

Fighting and losing an internal battle about whether to have another glass of wine. Laughing bitterly at the idea that weekends mean time off, while debating whether to scale Kilimanjaro or just tackle its replica that resides in my laundry room. Not being one bit jealous of all the people on Facebook having mini-breaks and crazy nights out. Looking forward to quality time with the toddler. Conveniently forgetting how much toddlers love to sabotage quality time, usually via the use of their ridiculously sharp teeth or their own bodily excretions.

You should message me if…

You don’t mind never being a priority. EVER. You prefer your coitus infrequent and interrupted. You’re bored with having a social life anyway.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit?

I’d prefer to eat popcorn watching drama unfold on Facebook than watching drama unfold in a movie. Oh, you wanted something sexily private? Sorry, I lost my coyness during the gassy explosion of hormones that was pregnancy.

The profile has been up for three weeks. Strangely, I’ve had no takers, though I live in hope.

Related post: An Open Apology To My Kids On The Subject Of My Divorce