But it's not "Right": How Dating a Single Dad Has Changed my Paradigm for Love

   They say that the six-month marker in a relationship ends the "Honeymoon Period". When we studied the phases of love in my psychology program I became intrigued with the concept of "honeymooning" and began to romanticize the term. Because I am always in a resting state of romance I boasted "I do not believe this ends. Or at least it doesn't in my relationships. For one, I am a poet. For two, I would never waste time in something that wasn't entirely magical."
  Prior to this year I have only ever committed to intense, passionate, poetic "ethereal" relationships. Nevermind that for every high was an equal and opposite low. Each relationship had distinct multidimensional sicknesses that could not be healed outside of a divine miracle. In all five the miracle looked like final phone calls, still sad font illuminated on the screens of smart phones or the harsh, static hanging of words "I just can't try to love you anymore."

    God this was your miracle? But he was right. This was right. 
 
     Right (adjective)
     1. A person or relationship that consistently ignites adrenaline, inspires deep romantic poetry on sleepless nights, requires some sort of tragic pining, looks perfect on paper and gains universal approval.
      2. A  relationship that is so "God ordained" that it will inherently work no matter how much effort or investment is actually sown into it.

     Up until April that was my template for love.
     Until I met Neil.
   
      Enter single, divorced dad.
      Twelve years older.
   
      I remember a May writing attempt gone awry when I could not muster poetry about the guy I knew I was falling in...something...with. Write about the longing. There was no longing. Write about the sadness. I searched myself for sadness but it was not there. Jade! What about this is torrid? Write about that!

      Nothing.
      I could think of nothing.
      Something had to be wrong.

     Admittedly the first few months of my and Neil's relationship consisted of my internally questioning it. I had a checklist in my mind. Neil did not measure up. This is not intense enough. There is something missing. We are always happy. This is not passionate enough. I am not challenged as a creative. I wish we argued sometimes because then I would know it is real.
      The thoughts kept me up at night.
   
      Does he inspire you?
      No.

      The answer is still no.

      I have learned that most of what inspires me is rooted in tragedy, tension and death.
      Neil is peace and light and warmth and life.
      Bummer.
      Neil is a real buzzkill.

      I have accepted that I will never be able to write about abandonment again because Neil keeps his word. I will be forced to grieve the feeling of the cold rain because Neil holds my umbrella. Fear can no longer be the premise of my work because I am finally with someone I can communicate with. I am no longer condemned, silenced, isolated or shamed because of my imperfections. Neil has taken away my ability to pine. He loves me because of myself not in spite myself. He does not threaten or cripple my childlike spirit. He preserves my magic, whimsicality and innocence. I am being challenged to sit in the foreign silence and delightful discomfort of peace, rest and health. I am grateful.

     Our honeymoon period died two months early. Neil would argue it lasted longer. But the day-to-day stresses of dating a single parent create a startling reality. We may not be married, but I feel like we are bulletproof. We have borne burdens no dating couple should bear. Not to mention we have gone through most of it alone with zero ears lent. Transient, twenty-somethings do not typically stick around once a member of their circle pursues a relationship. Enter "He has a seven year old" into the mix and the awkward, appalled stares begin. For a long time I wondered if I had a third limb growing out of my head. That would explain the strange looks. But when people stopped staring entirely I marveled at our invisibility. For someone who used to go out every evening an empty inbox is confusing. But I am learning to make peace with mine.

  Admittedly when I drifted off the radar I prepared for uncharted territory. I never promote abandoning friendships. But I am starting to accept that the majority of my old relationships were geared toward fair-weather. I am in a place where I need friends who are in it for the long haul. And I am ready to be the friend that hikes the mountain, burrows in the tiny tent and rides out the storm with the ones I love the most. Perhaps I have stepped into adulthood and realized I genuinely only have a handful of people I can count on.
     As Keeli would say...

      "Haters to the left"
       Or
      "Bye Felicia".

       Amen and amen. I need friends who are going to spend less time talking about their concern for my life amongst each other and more time actively walking with me through the highs and lows of my journey.
       In three days Neil and I will hit our six-month marker. I read a blog this morning about how we are at the point in our relationship where I can now wear sweatpants and no makeup around him comfortably. I laugh at this because I think I was wearing my dog hats around him by day three...because he is the real deal. I could enter the cliche line of "We are not aways perfect," but I am pretty certain no one thinks we are. In fact most had very little faith in us from the beginning...but we are doing pretty well. For the first time in my life I am in a relationship that the people I love are not really sure about. Not going along with what others perceive I should want or need is a huge deal for me. I hope and pray they will learn to make peace with it to quell the awkwardness. But it is starting to affect me less and less all the time.

      As a writer and an artist I have always admired those who are transcendent enough to take a concept, a theory or a piece of art and flip it on its head. I believe true artists, geniuses and revolutionaries are those who consider perceived realities and write the exception to the rule. I think Neil is one of these people. His love is refining me from the inside out and through our adventure the Lord has drastically shifted my paradigm. I am enjoying watching my life unfurl as my previous definitions are being redefined.
   
      Right (adjective)
      A person or relationship that is brave enough to defeat lies, darkness, and distorted perceptions that were once perceived as truth.