I adore my kids but dreaded the moment that I dropped that bomb on the women I was talking to. “Yes they have two different moms,” I text back with a sigh.
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We support each other and co-parent because our kids are what matters, not us.
We respect and admire one another as parents and people, regardless of the fact that we didn’t work out.
What is never seen is how much they want me to find happiness and love, and how easy they make life for me most of the time.
Yet still, I am viewed as the hot guy with baggage, especially to women who don’t have any kids.
I smile back, wondering if it’s me or my son she sees. My anxiety keeps me from making such attempts, but I want to. It is what it is; at least that’s what I tell myself.
Hopefully it’s both of us; I mean we are a package deal. I think about it, a bit longer than a moment, and regret it a little as we leave the store. Well, the truth is, life is not a television drama and this assumption is inaccurate.
What they never get to see is the reality of what my life is.
They never get to see that even though it isn’t always roses and sunshine, I have good relationship with the mothers of my children.
If they took a little longer look they’d see something different.