Dating After Divorce: If At First You Don’t Succeed…At Least You Got Free Breadsticks
Dating after divorce is like buying a swimsuit in fluorescent lighting: you’re vulnerable, you’re exposed, and you’re left wondering ‘What am I looking at?’ That was me six months ago, standing in my kitchen, staring at my phone, and pep-talking myself into agreeing to a date with Pete.
Pete was charming over text. He had a rescue dog (points!), volunteered at a local food bank (extra points!), and said he loved to laugh (aren’t we all comedians in dating profiles?). I thought, “This could be good.” Spoiler alert: It wasn’t.
The Date From Dating App Hell
We met at a trendy little restaurant, the kind where the waiter looks like they’re waiting for you to mispronounce something on the menu. I didn’t disappoint.
Then it happened. STRIKE ONE. Almost immediately, Pete said, “I hope you’re not one of those high-maintenance women who expects me to open doors.” I didn’t expect him to open the doors, but I also didn’t expect him to tell me that he wasn’t going to open the doors, you know what I mean?
I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was joking? We sat down, and I ordered a glass of wine. Pete immediately launched into a TED Talk on why alcohol is “poison for the soul” while he sipped his water like he was expecting it to give him x-ray vision or the ability to fly. STRIKE TWO.
Then, came dinner. He ordered spaghetti…on a first date. I should’ve seen the marinara massacre coming. By the time he finished Hoover-ing his noodles, his white shirt looked like part of a crime scene and he had a red ring around his mouth. Did he acknowledge the splatters? Nope. Wipe away the sauce from his mouth? Barely. But between slurps he did manage to inform me that women my age should feel lucky to get a catch like him.
STRIKE THREE, Petey Boy. You and your water-drinking, pasta-gobbling, delusional self are outta here!
The Post-Date Fallout
I went home that night, took off my makeup, and made a solemn vow: Never again. Dating was for the birds, and this bird was nesting solo with Netflix and a bottle of wine. Who needed awkward dinners that reminded me that I wasn’t a spring chicken? Not me. I was doing just fine.
But there I was, six months later, at the grocery store debating if I needed two boxes of pasta for a dinner party I wasn’t hosting or one, when I thought of Spaghetti Pete. I hadn’t been able to eat Italian since my date with him.
That’s when it hit me: I was lonely. Maybe I wasn’t ready to dive back into the dating pool, but I had to at least dip my toes in. I opened the app and swiped right on Tom.
Round Two: Tom
Tom didn’t have a rescue dog or a food bank story. But he did have a normal profile picture and managed to ask, “How was your day?” instead of leading with, “So, what do you bring to the table?”
Our first date was at a cozy coffee shop. He held the door for me (Pete is screaming somewhere in the world), and we spent two hours laughing about the most ridiculous things: the time his dog ate an entire stick of butter, and how I once accidentally used cooking spray as dry shampoo.
He didn’t order spaghetti. He didn’t mansplain. And he didn’t make me feel like dating was some twisted form of penance. By the time I got home, I realized something important:
Not every guy is Pete.
The Moral of the Story
Dating after divorce isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s messy, awkward, and sometimes involves a guy who forgets that women “your age” are actual Queens. But here’s the thing: You learn. You laugh. You heal. And occasionally, you meet someone who reminds you that it’s okay to try again.
Even if you don’t find ‘the one,’ there will always be breadsticks—and trust me, they’ll never disappoint.