“When are you a slut anyway, Mom?”

“I don’t know,” sighs friend C. – divorced for four years and just started relationship number so many – as we hang out at my kitchen table with a glass of wine. “D. is it all, on paper then.

He is sweet, handsome, intelligent, funny at times and a sweet father to his children. But if he’s with me for more than two days, I get a pointy head. His shirt on my clothesline, his beer in my fridge… I just don’t feel it.” I look around the room that has been completely owned by the children and me for a few months now; my third attempt at a relationship after my divorce nearly five years ago was again unsuccessful. What a rest. I enjoy the time I have for my children, for myself. And I enjoy my own home where I don’t have to discuss dinner with anyone and where I can spend evenings undisturbed with friends without thinking whether I’ve shaved my legs. Still, I can’t keep trying endlessly in love, I realize. There is a limit to how much I can answer to my kids, the youngest of whom recently asked in all innocence, “When are you a slut, Mom?”

Nice try, but failed miserably

It’s up to me, of course. Although every man had his necessary points of attention. The fact is that I sealed my fate the moment I ended my marriage, the relationship that should have been Happily Ever After. The owner-occupied house, the careers, the two children, the club of friends: nice try, but failed miserably. New round, new opportunities, I thought. But that works a little differently if you have nothing to lose in terms of traditional family composition. My life as a single mother is pretty damn perfect, in terms of house, health, nice job, happy children and a colorful group of friends. A new man doesn’t have much to add to that. Except for the much-needed love, but it has never been uncomplicated. Little comfort here at the kitchen table: I am clearly not the only one with whom things no longer go so smoothly with the men after a divorce. When it comes to long-term relationships, at least.

We women are not made for a long-term monogamous relationship

For friend L., a single mother of four elementary school children, it’s clear: we women are not made to live in a long-term monogamous relationship under one roof. We should just go and live with our girlfriends in a courtyard, where we take care of each other’s children while we work on our careers, and men are only exceptionally welcome for a seesaw. “May they then go shoot a bear again, while we are busy with important matters”, she always cheers after it. Is that where we ended up? Around forty, single with children, able to hold up our own pants and not find a man who can live up to our high expectations. We wash down kilos of chocolate with liters of wine, while we Netflix all seasons of Call the midwife in pink, fluffy bathrobes and mint green sports socks, knowing that no one except the children sees that bacon roll or that bathrobe. How is a permanent relationship still feasible when your self-constructed life runs smoothly? In which men with an opinion and a backpack full of divorce problems, contact arrangements and a life of their own only disrupt the routine? Before you know it you’re just coordinating agendas according to an incomprehensible mathematical scheme and your quiet Sunday evening has been replaced by the blaring of Studio sport and his feet on the coffee table.

sad or laughable

As with my wildly attractive and really very cosy, but very busy Attempt Two. Committed father, busy job, a healthy group of friends with accompanying sports evenings and a season ticket from the local football club. And separated for so long that the after-effects of my turbulent previous years were a bit much ‘hassle’ for him. No, then Attempt One. In terms of busyness the other extreme, and so devoted to me that it was again too much of a good thing. In an attempt to do it really well now, I let myself be conquered by Attempt Three, a former colleague who moved in with us from a practical point of view (because temporarily homeless) – not to be hindered by any sense of family life after a year. I’m not sure if it’s sad or laughable that the man I do have some sort of structural relationship with is my ex-husband.

I think it’s fine like this

The outside world doesn’t understand much about it, so I think it’s fine that way. “John, you look good and didn’t fall on the back of your head, you really do meet a nice guy.” Or: “Just take a Tinder, a woman like you shouldn’t be alone on the couch on Saturday?” Well, I’d rather share that couch after bedtime with the dog I have just as much fun with. Fortunately, more friends share my feelings. “I can’t bear to think about a man like that on the couch every night”, says girlfriend K., divorced for ten years and mother of two, when we chat about the latest love affairs. “I don’t know a friend who actually makes it happier.” Her long-standing relationship only involves one date every two weeks. “I don’t really have time for a man at all,” she says. “Besides, he lives in another province and you don’t think I’ll give up my own house again, do you?” C. is now also considering buying a home, something she hadn’t dared to commit to since her divorce. “Do you know a lot about who you will meet and how things are going, soon I want to live together and I will not lose those bricks”, she said cheerfully a few years ago. Now she rules out ‘letting another guy in her house ever again’ as long as the kids are still living at home – and that will take some time.

I’m not participating anymore, for now

Is that any different from how we imagined it long ago? Before children came and marriage still seemed like a final destination. “Well, of course it is also ideal”, C puts it into perspective. “A man who, in addition to being the father of your children, is also your soul mate. Who takes the necessary care off your hands and with whom you also have a bit of an exciting butt with some regularity.” Well, I would rather have saved my children and myself the divorce, but a second man is clearly not second best. I’m not participating anymore, for now. Not in my children’s time, at least. What fun my friends and I will have, there in our courtyard. And if that occasional gentleman’s visit instead of a shot bear brings a cozy bottle of champagne, I propose a visitation arrangement for the free-range children in addition to our children.