Recently I went on a second date with a woman I found seriously attractive. Tall, slim and blonde — and a partner in a law firm, meaning she was both intelligent and solvent. She was also the mother of two teenage boys, which at the time I didn’t think twice about.
I’ve got two girls myself, aged 23 and 22. I planned our Saturday together carefully. A country drive and a romantic pub lunch, with plenty of time to get to know each other.
Journalism for the curious Australian across politics, business, culture and opinion. It goes without saying that I’d pick up the bill for everything, probably well into three figures, as well as buying her flowers to mark the occasion. And, yes, I imagined that if things went well we might end the day at mine, getting to know each other in a different way.
My hopes were quickly disappointed. The evening before we were due to meet, she texted to say our leisurely drive would now include a plus one. Her eldest needed a lift to his Saturday job at a garden centre.
When we dropped him off, there was no “thank you”, just a “see you guys this afternoon”. Afternoon? It turns out his mother had promised we’d be back at 3pm to pick him up. our day together was downsized to a quick bite to eat, with my date all too obviously watching the clock.
You might ask what makes me think single mothers are queuing up to date me anyway — I’m nudging 60 after all — but I know I’m a bit of a catch. After playing dad taxi for the day, I dec.
