My First and Last Date With Pierce Brosnan

Sunday night I had a first date at a Caribou Coffee shop in Fairfax.  I met this man on Ok Cupid, and was intrigued by his writing. On his profile, he expressed himself so well. He made some statement about emotions and intimacy being so closely tied together that I figured every girl on that site must find such a comment so refreshing.

Typically, men are afraid of emotions, right? Plus this is a site full of 20-somethings that are obviously looking for sex rather than a relationship. So, yeah, when a guy isn't afraid of emotions, I take notice.

We messaged a few times before meeting in person. Again, I liked how much he wrote since I tend to write novels compared to the haikus that are frequently exchanged on dating sites.

When I saw him in person, my first impression was disappointment. He looked like a grown up frat boy. I could just imagine him wearing loafers without socks paired with shorts and a polo. Isn't that so snobby of me? I thought so too. So, I pushed that first impression out of my head and tried hard to listen what he had to say. Maybe his personality would overcome his bland dressing.

On paper we would seem to have a lot in common. We both have kids. The ages are similar. He and I are both soccer players. He recognized my Barca scarf in my profile pictures. We both work in education. We have similar schedules. But...?

Well, there was no spark. He wasn't funny. Damn. Those emotions made him so intense and serious. And he looked at me with such attention that I felt under a microscope. Because he kind of looks like Pierce Brosnan, his one eye squinted while he listened to me talk which further reinforced who his doppleganger is.

Patiently, I suffered through his stories of travel soccer schedules and gymnastic classes until he finally said something interesting. He tried to convince me that men need to be as careful as women when it comes to online dating. One woman he dated four times became obsessed with him. Not only did she talk nonstop about his kids, but she stalked him. As he ate dinner at home with his kids one night, he saw her sitting in her car. Watching them.

But his interesting story wasn't enough. Besides, I walked away feeling like he was a perv. Too easily he talked about divorced people needing sex if they haven't gotten any in a while. That Pierce Brosnan stare silently asked if I would offer him the relief he was seeking. I tried hard to signal with my body language that no, I was not the girl for his needs. Any guy who uses the word "horny" on a first date makes me feel uncomfortable.

Glad that the hour was up and that we both had commitments to dash off to, I lied about seeing him again. I didn't know what else to say. Thankfully, the disinterest was mutual because neither of us have contacted each other since that night.

"Gong!" at the Blue Banana's Comedy Night

Tuesday night I ventured into the city to experience standup comedy. My friend did her best to rally her friends downtown to the Blue Banana to support her boyfriend's debut on stage. Watching my friend during his performance was almost more entertaining than his bit. The whole time her eyes were glued on him, and her hands covered her mouth. She was nervous for him.

Awww. That was cute.

Know what wasn't cute? Most of the comedy. Now take this with a bucket of salt. I mean, I realize I can be a bit naive and act kinda innocent at times, so my ignorance of stereotypes really puts me at a disadvantage. Meaning, I didn't get a lot of the jokes. Then there were the jokes that I got, but I still wasn't laughing. That's because they just weren't funny.  Offensive. Not funny. No good.

Ok, so I didn't walk away thinking about the jokes people told. However, I am still thinking about this little oddity that I learned that night. Most comedians seem to dress like Jerry Seinfeld. You know what I'm talking about. They wear the standard issued white sneakers to coordinate with their jeans. To me, this is like one of those chicken/egg questions. Did Jerry just dress in the standup comedian uniform, or have all standups decided to forever give a nod to the Great Jerry?

However, these Jerry Seinfeld impersonators take themselves way too seriously. Do they forget that they are comics?  Figuring that I went to a bar to watch the show, I didn't really see what the big deal was if I talked during the set. I mean, hey, if the comic isn't funny, then I'm gonna make fun with my fellow patrons. This is not recommended. Any audience member caught talking will be berated with the MC yelling, "Shut! The Fuck! Up!" (Just like that. Put the pauses with the exclamation points.)

As you can see, I'm the comic's worst nightmare. Unlike my cute, little friend that laughed at every joke or my other buxom friend that was flattered by the MC from on stage, I'm a cynic. I will not give the comic the benefit of the doubt. I will not presume the comic funny until proven disastrous. Instead I will listen with a mental mallet poised to strike that gong in my head.

The Grocery Stores are Full of Masochists

I mean really, why don't more moms have groceries delivered? Like many people, here are my choices:

1) Take all 34 kids with me to the store.  Appease them while I forget to look at my list thus forgetting critical items. Agonize over the embarrassment of my baby standing in the cart while people try to teach me a lesson with their stern looks. And, don't forget, kids want EVERYTHING they see! 

2) Shop on the weekends when the lines are so long that by the time I'm done shopping and paying for my mountain of food, I could've driven to the beach. And back.

3) Go online while the kids play video games or watch TV or finish their homework. I transfer my whole list onto a webpage -- which means I'll never come home again regretting that I forgot to buy milk. Or as we finish something in the house, I just add it to my online list.  Then I have the leisure of choosing between a delivery that includes the driver carrying the groceries into my kitchen or leaving the groceries packed in dry ice and boxes outside my garage. I don't even need to rearrange my schedule to be home to accept the food!

When it comes to relationships, I might be the masochist. But no one can accuse me of self loathing when I have my groceries delivered to my house.

Why? Because.

If I had a nickel for every time that I was asked why, then I'd be financially independent.

Since I have 50 kids, I get asked this question a lot. A lot. From challenging my decisions to wanting to know why numbers go on forever, I'm continually asked to explain things.


"Why was I born on that day?"


"Why do I have to play outside?"


"Why is blue blue?"


"Why don't you know what the first movie ever made was?"


"Why can't I stay up all night?"

Why is a question I ask too much as well. I usually vary it with What if? Why and What if can rob me of hours of sleep. I should probably just tell myself the same distracted answer that I give my kids, "Uh, I don't know. Because that's the way it is."

Caught Between Worlds

Yesterday's post prompted a disccusion with a friend about my situation. He said my situation reminded him of Superman's loneliness.

This really isn't far off target. (I'm examining my nails and polishing them on the shoulder of my shirt.) He's not the first to call me a super hero. When people find out I homeschool, they wonder how I can manage to be with my 64 kids all day everyday.

All acalades aside, he wasn't referring to my super human ability to maintain a household while educating my kids. He was referring to how I don't fit in any one social group. Just like the super hero who can't reveal his identity to any mortal and must always be alone, I too feel like I'm forced to hide a bit of myself with each group.

While I might have the energy of someone much younger than me who doesn't have kids, I have such a different lifestyle than they do. I don't have a career outside the home.  We don't have that in common.  I have kids to care for, so we don't normally have that in common either.  I have a limited schedule, yet another thing we don't have in common.

In fact, I get mixed reactions from people I meet when I'm out. Some are impressed that I still get out despite my responsibilities. Others squish up there face and wonder why a mother of 32 kiddos is out living it up. Or they ask why I would chose to homeschool instead of work. Their disapproval can make me feel like an under achiever who couldn't even earn a high school diploma. Staying at home with my kids doesn't always mix with the cooperate world.

But I'm single so I do enjoy the things that single people do. I like to date, go dancing, bar hop, see a concert. Unfortunately, many of the other people I might typically have things in common with aren't interested in what I like to do for fun. Or if they are interested, they may not have the energy to venture out.

As a homeschooler, I'm usually mingling with large families who talk about things I can't relate to since I don't have a husband.  Or if they invite me, the single, to something like a family game night, I feel as bored as if I were at some other kid's recital. I mean, family game nights are something I take for the team. But if I am the team, then it's pointless. Besides, if most of those families knew what I was doing with my free time, then they'd feel the need to proselytize me.

So I have a foot in my weekend world and a foot in my family world, but I'm not completely at home in either. If I'm gonna hide some of my identidy and be lonely like a super hero, I really hope I'm at least as hot as Wonder Woman.

Only MILFs Need Apply

The divorce process drained my steady supply of friends.

As my unhappy marriage wound slowly down to a stand still, I escaped by being gone most nights and weekends. I have always loved to be in the middle of the action, so I threw myself into going out . Since I grew up here, I had childhood friends that I'd been palling around with for decades. Going to college here added to my pool of friends. Then having and schooling my kids here increased my social circle so much that, at times, I actually had to decline offers.

But all of that changed after I filed for divorce.

The end of any relationship will draw a line in the sand for your friends. Friends always have to choose sides. Will they be his friends? Or mine? But I grew up in a church that considers divorce a sin and that preaches how enduring a miserable life is a good thing as Jesus taught us to bear our cross every day. So the natural conclusion was for my friends to call me up and inform me that, until I changed my ways, our friendship was over. It was either end the friendship or listen to them try to figure out what went wrong in the marriage in order to facilitate reconciliation.

Most of my friends who continue to support me are good intentioned but very busy. Married couples with kids love to do activities with other married couples with kids. Hitting a bar, going into the city!, dancing, watching a show, taking in a movie...all of these exhaust my married and career friends. Once night comes, they are ready to hibernate until sunrise.

My free weekends throw me back into a feeling of being footloose without responsibilities like when I was young. All the energy that I expend on my tribe of 20 still surges through me on the weekend. With all of that energy, I get the urge to go, go, go! 

But the friends I've collected over the years are still tiring themselves out on the weekends as their responsibilities haven't lessened. This puts me in a unique position. A lonely position. My kids are with my ex, and my friends are with their families.

Ah. This phase of my life totally sucks.

I know this won't last forever. Already, I've met other single moms and dads in this area. They too face the same friendship problem. Which makes me think. Am I to only search out and befriend MILFs and the dad equivalents? I guess my future posse will be drawn from that limited pool.