In the corner of a busy bar, my date leaned in to make himself heard. The heft of his shoulder pressing against mine, he asked: ‘So, what is it exactly you want?’
More time, I thought. More money. To live in a world of true gender equality – in work, sex and family.
But more immediately, I wanted to remove the shirt from that shoulder. ‘A cab back to yours. And then let’s see what you have to offer,’ I smiled.
We had connected on a dating app. I made it clear on my profile that I was not looking for a relationship, but it’s nice to be asked what you do want.
And now, as a 44-year-old single mum, knowing myself, knowing my body, I can answer with a confidence I never had as a younger woman.
In my twenties, I wanted sex. But I also wanted someone I could build a life with. A hot lover, a best friend, someone to laugh with – and a stable, dependable partner.
I never found everything I wanted in one person. Certainly not in the man I got pregnant by in my early thirties. But when I realised I was pregnant, I knew I wanted to be a mother – very much.
I worked hard to create the life I wanted with my child’s father. We even married. But ultimately, it didn’t work out.
By the time he moved out, I’d been out of the dating game for nearly six years.
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A lot had changed in that time. For one thing, dating apps had become a thing – a very convenient thing for a busy single mum, as it turned out. But what I wanted had changed, too.
Sex, now, is an escape from the responsibilities of mothering. As restorative as a good workout or day at the spa.
I need physical intimacy, and the emotional intimacy that comes with it. There have been plenty of one-night stands, but also connections that last months or even years.
When I was still holding out for a soulmate, I used to agonise over whether to stay in a relationship after the first flush of passion faded. Now, lovers can become platonic friends without anyone getting hurt.
By the time I was done with my marriage, the idea that I needed a man to complete me was finished too.
But as I tumbled out of the cab with my latest date, I wanted him very much. Not for life but definitely for the moment.
Later, my cheek against that (now naked) shoulder, I expanded on my answer to his earlier question.
‘My life is very full,’ I explained. ‘Complicated, but not lacking. And I’m certainly not looking for any more complications.
‘This,’ I said, squeezing my body tighter around his, ‘is the cherry on the cake.’
‘I get it. Totally,’ he said earnestly.
Quietly, I queried his ‘getting it’. Could a single, childless guy really get what my life is like?
Probably, I thought, he was just relieved to hear I’m as commitment averse as he was.
By now, I’ve come to realise that dating apps are awash with middle-aged men looking for ‘casual dating’ and ‘hookups’.
And my mind boggles at how many of these men have also ticked ‘wants children’ or ‘might want children’ boxes. Oh the privilege of being able to dither over whether you want a family well into your forties!
But while these guys are extending their youth, putting off settling down, I’m enjoying a freedom that comes from maturity, and being secure in already having settled down.
My life is centred on my child, and a love far bigger than anything I’ve felt for a man.
I’m not saying it’s easy. Single mothering is exhausting. It’s a constant logistical and financial struggle to do it all and keep on top of everything.
But there are also perks to spreading your support network beyond a two-parent home.
A couple of years ago, Ella*, a single mum with two young kids, moved into my neighbourhood. When I told her my daughter and I could sleep over on her couch if she needed a night out, she burst into tears – it had been that long since she’d had one.
Now, it’s a regular thing. And sometimes, she isn’t home until breakfast.
While the kids are tucking into pancakes in front of the telly, we close ourselves in the kitchen so I can get the gossip. The huge grin she can’t keep off her face says it all, and we collapse into laughter at how good good sex can make you feel.
‘Sex without the emotional strings is so liberating,’ she told me one morning. ‘I used to be so hung up on what men wanted. But now – I feel so powerful in my post-baby body. Fitting a lover in around my schedule – I’m putting my needs first. Taking what I want.’
I know what she means. I know so many women from whom men have taken too much. Men who promised to be equal partners, but failed to make the profound changes to their lives we expect of mothers.
Men who took a woman’s fertile years, and then left when their biological clocks began to tick too loudly.
So what if more women chose single motherhood? What if we considered sperm donors, platonic parents and multigenerational networks of care as alternatives to the nuclear norm?
The whole dynamics of needy women and commitment-phobic men might flip into reverse and more women might see what Ella and I only realised after messy breakups – that motherhood doesn’t depend on finding ‘Mr. Right’.
We don’t talk about men’s struggle to have it all – we take their right to careers and family, sex and security, for granted.
Yet, while women have limited years to bear children, without us, men can’t have them at all.
Let’s face it ladies, we have the power.
My life isn’t what I’d pictured for myself as a younger woman. But it’s a life filled with love, intimacy, plenty of laughs over how it’s all turned out, and great sex – just not all from one person.
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