After my third date with Alex — a charming, witty systems analyst and wine lover I had connected with on Bumble — I faced yet another wave of judgment for being a single mom and exploring my sexuality. I’ve been living in the same scenic, family-oriented cul-de-sac for over ten years. I’m well acquainted with my neighbors, and they’re all aware of my divorced status.
Alex arrived on his Ducati for our third date, leaving it parked in my driveway for the night. While it was his first visit to my home, it certainly wouldn’t be the last unusual vehicle to grace my driveway. As I walked him out and we shared a kiss goodbye, my neighbor was tending to her yard with her three kids. After Alex drove away, I headed to grab my mail. As I approached my front door, head down and sorting through the envelopes, my neighbor chirped, “You’re not going to say anything? Just going to keep your head down and keep walking?” I know her well enough to understand she didn’t intend any harm, but her words carried an implication of shame.
The first time I felt that sting of shame for being intimate after leaving my marriage was over two years ago, sitting with my closest friend of 30 years at a diner. When I mentioned a guy I had recently met, she fumbled with her silverware in silence, avoiding any follow-up questions. Later, she outright told me she didn’t want to hear about my dating life ever again. Another friend’s boyfriend even dared to call me a whore after overhearing a story about my dating life. In the two years since becoming single, I’ve faced similar judgment from married friends, whether overtly or subtly. I often find myself the punchline of jokes regarding my dating life. I laugh it off, but inside, I’m hurting. It’s painful not just because of the judgment, but because their only way to discuss this aspect of my life is through mockery.
Dating has become a significant part of my existence whether I like it or not. This is my reality. The only people who seem to truly understand my experiences are a few single guy friends and other single women — of which I have very few at 38 after spending 13 years in a committed relationship. This shift has led to a decline in many of my female friendships, as I often receive silence when I attempt to share this part of my life. I frequently choose to remain quiet, but if someone asks what I’ve been up to, dating inevitably becomes part of the conversation.
One of the most disheartening consequences of divorce is the loss of meaningful relationships. Your spouse is just the beginning; soon, you may lose in-laws, portions of your children’s lives, and entire friend groups that take sides. Once the chaos subsides, even some of your friends may drift away, unable or unwilling to comprehend your new reality.
The last time I was single, I was in my early 20s. Back then, an unrequited crush at the gym was merely an excuse for a boozy night with friends. Now, at 38 with two children and mostly married friends, it feels different. Over the past two years, I’ve experienced genuine heartbreak three times — once from a nine-month relationship, another from a seven-week fling, and the last from a brief four-week connection. Although these relationships were short-lived compared to my marriage, the emotional impact was intense. The first heartbreak felt understandable; the second was perplexing, and by the third, no one was available to share a glass of wine and help me through the pain.
My friends are consumed with their families and busy lives, which I completely understand. I’ve been there, and I don’t hold it against them. But this is the harsh reality of being a single, older woman navigating the dating scene. Either you seek out a new circle of friends who grasp the complexities of your situation, or you endure it alone. Alone, alone, alone. In the last two years, I have never felt more isolated.
Yes, I made the choice to leave my marriage after a year of unproductive therapy. I could have remained in that life, but it wasn’t a path I was willing to take. I gambled everything for a chance at happiness. When Alex and I sit on my back porch sipping mimosas, discussing life and love, and he compliments me on my intelligence and inner beauty, I feel a sense of joy. I appreciate that someone sees my worth, even if our time together is fleeting. I risked it all for that brief moment of validation.
I anticipated that my divorce would alter my family dynamics; my ex refuses to communicate with me, I only see my children half the time, and my in-laws disowned me upon filing. What I didn’t foresee was how my friendships would morph into something unrecognizable.
Divorce has a way of stripping your life down to its fundamental elements, a process that can be agonizing. But if you seek happiness, you must first identify where to find it, clearing away distractions and getting to the essence of your situation. Only by understanding where you fit amidst the ruins can you truly be seen by others — which is ultimately what you’ve always desired.
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Summary
Divorce profoundly impacts friendships, often leading to feelings of isolation and judgment. The author shares personal experiences of navigating the dating world as a single mother, revealing how relationships can change after marital separation. She emphasizes the importance of seeking understanding and companionship during this challenging time, as well as the emotional toll of losing significant connections.