We all have our non-negotiable requirements when it comes to dating. Some women won’t date a guy that lives at home, others have salary requirements, some won’t date certain races, and some types even have size requirements… and I’m not talking about height.
As a 29-year-old woman who is in no rush to wed or make babies anytime soon, I have become quite the picky dater. I have been compared more than once [this week] to Jerry Seinfeld. It’s not intentional, I’ve just always been comfortable being single and that allowed me to ‘find myself’ much sooner than most women my age. Because having a man has never been the be all and end all for me, I’ve learned through dating (and lots of it) what I want and, more importantly, what I sure as fuck do not want. A man with kids can find himself in the latter category.
I’ve tried to be more understanding. Yes, people make mistakes and yes, people and situations change throughout the course of our very long lives. At some point though you have to ask yourself if being ‘understanding’ about someone else’s situation is starting to actually become ‘settling’ in your own situation. Call me selfish or too picky if you like, but I call it having standards. Standards are completely subjective, but best believe if you want to be happy you better have some.
There are 3 reasons I won’t date guys with kids ever again.
I’m a princess.
And when it comes to dating, I expect to be treated like one. Not in the way some women expect; I don’t want to be showered with gifts or compliments (unless you’re telling me how hilarious I am) or public displays of affection (vomit). Fuck, I’m the girl who usually insists on splitting the cheque on the first date. No, I’m not typical in most regards but I am in at least one big one – I like attention, and lots of it. I want to be your number one priority. I want to be the last person you think about when you go to sleep and the first person you think about when you wake up. I want to be able to vacation and party and have loud sex whenever I want. If I’m actually committing to you, best believe I expect that shit. I don’t want to plan my life around finding a babysitter or a pair of earplugs for someone else’s brat.
If you already have a kid when we meet, I won’t be number one. Ever. (And if I am you’re a bad father which is a reason in itself I wouldn’t date you.) Should I decide to have children with you one day, I know at that point our children will become our top priority. But until that day, I want to be the only person who makes you cry on a regular basis.
I’m also a corny romantic.
Again, I’m still undecided on the whole mini-me thing but if one day I decide being a mother is something I might enjoy, I will be nervous as shit. I will be scared. I will worry I won’t be good enough to raise a child. I will be going through all of this for the first time and guess what? I want the father of Cletus the Fetus to be right there with me. I want you to be nervous about being a new father. I want you to be excited the first time you feel our unborn child kick. You know, all that corny stuff you see on TV. When I’ve dated guys with kids, I’ve actually imagined the following situation:
Pregnant me: Omgomgomg honey, my water broke! Quick, get the bag! Omg. What do I do? Omg this is fucked up. Why did we get so drunk that night? Ok. Too late for that now. Omg. WE’RE HAVING A BABY!!!
Guy who has already had a kid: * Yawn* Can you get in the car? I want to be back for the hockey game.
Okay, maybe I’m being irrational. That situation would never happen. I would never be with a guy who liked hockey.
But the point I’m making here is if I choose to share my life with you, chances are I want to share all the big moments with you too. Those first time moments that you can never redo. I don’t want to experience them alone and gosh darnit I shouldn’t have to.
And finally, I’m immature, yo.
Maybe the idea of having a child is so foreign to me that I’ve made it much more serious than it is. But… probably not. I mean, you created a LIFE. You’re like God, dude. How could anything I ever do over the course of our relationship compare even remotely to the fact that you and some skank before me created a human being? It can’t! Or at least in my head it can’t.
My brain is a powerful (and insane) thing. I was talking to a guy with kids for a couple of weeks. We were in my room, laying on my bed, watching Anchorman. Do you know what I was thinking about? While my favourite movie of all time is on, out of nowhere, I’m suddenly picturing this guy in scrubs in a delivery room holding his newborn baby. This guy had to buy diapers and baby food and pay for daycare, and I am waiting to clear some space on my credit card so I can go party for 3 straight days in Vegas. How could this ever work? Needless to say I haven’t seen him since.
I don’t judge people who have had children by mistake, or on purpose, or mistakenly on purpose. I think they deserve to date and have a second or third or ninth chance at falling in love just like never-married, never-babied people like me.
I just won’t be the one dating them.