After my third outing with Daniel — an attractive, witty systems analyst and wine lover I met on a dating app — I faced embarrassment yet again for being a single mom who dares to date. I’ve spent over a decade in a family-friendly suburban neighborhood, filled with young families. Everyone knows each other, and they definitely know I’m divorced.
Daniel arrived on his motorcycle for our third date, and it became a familiar sight parked in my driveway. As I walked him to his bike and we shared a goodbye kiss, my neighbor was in her yard with her kids. After he drove off, I approached my mailbox, head down and sifting through the envelopes. My neighbor chimed in playfully, “Not going to say anything? Just keeping your head down?” I’ve known her long enough to know she meant no harm, but her words carried an undertone of shame about my situation.
The first time I felt that shame was over two years ago in a diner with my lifelong friend, Jessica. After I mentioned a new man I was seeing, she awkwardly fumbled with her silverware, not asking any follow-up questions. Later, she bluntly stated that she didn’t want to hear about my dating life ever again. Another friend’s boyfriend openly labeled me a “slut” after overhearing a story about my dating escapades. Over the past two years, I’ve encountered a slew of married friends who either verbally or silently express similar sentiments, often at my expense. I laugh it off, playing into their jokes, but deep down, it stings. It hurts not just because of the judgment, but because their only way to engage with this part of my life is through humor.
Dating has become a significant aspect of my life, whether I like it or not. The only individuals who truly engage with my experiences are a couple of single male friends and a handful of single women — a rarity at 38 after spending 13 years in a committed relationship. This situation has caused many of my female friendships to fade, as I often face silence when I attempt to discuss my dating life. I often choose to keep quiet, but if someone inquires about my life, dating inevitably comes into play.
The most heartbreaking aspect of divorce is the gradual loss of meaningful relationships. Your spouse is just the beginning of a long list of exits — your in-laws, the majority of your children’s social circle, and various friend groups that will align with one side or the other. Eventually, some of your own friends drift away because they can’t or won’t take the time to understand your new reality.
The last time I was single, I was in my early twenties. Back then, a snub from a guy at the gym was a reason for a fun night out, but at 38 with two kids, it feels different, especially when most of my friends are married. In the last two years, I’ve felt genuine heartbreak three times — from a nine-month relationship, a seven-week fling, and a brief four-week connection. Although these relationships were short compared to my time married, the emotional impact was real. By the time I reached the third heartbreak, no one was available to sip wine and share in my disappointment.
My friends are busy with their husbands, children, and their own lives, and I understand that; I’ve been there too. I don’t blame them. But the reality of being an older single woman in the dating world is stark: you either find a new circle of friends who understand your new landscape, or you navigate it alone. Alone, alone, alone. The past two years have made me feel more solitary than ever.
Yes, I made the choice to leave my marriage after a year of unproductive counseling. I could have stayed, but I wasn’t willing to continue down that path. I risked losing everything for the chance at happiness. When Daniel and I sit on my porch, sipping mimosas and discussing life, it feels good to be appreciated for my qualities, even if we both know it’s just a fleeting moment.
I was aware that my divorce would affect my family dynamics: my ex is silent, I share custody of my kids, and my in-laws cut ties the moment I filed. What I didn’t foresee was the transformation of my friendships into something less recognizable.
Divorce often strips your life down to its most essential elements, and while this process is painful, it’s necessary for finding happiness. To discover where to seek joy, you must first clear the clutter and identify where you fit within the aftermath. Only then can you be seen by others — which is ultimately what we all desire.
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Summary
Divorce can unexpectedly shift friendships, leaving many feeling isolated and judged. While navigating the dating world as a single parent, the author reflects on the painful loss of relationships and the challenge of rebuilding a social circle. The journey toward happiness involves recognizing where one fits amid the changes and seeking connections that understand this new reality.