Nic Narrates

In lieu of designating a toolbag this Wednesday, I’d really rather write about something that’s been on my mind the last couple of days.

We had gathered for Graphic Designer Friend’s Bachelorette and amid the tasteful if not sedate revelry, one of my other coworkers (22 and the instigator of the “gooch” lunchroom incident) approached me for some “soccer mom” advice as she put it. Turns out she’s dating a man three years older than her who is divorced and has a four year old, a four year old who is, as she explained, “causing problems” for her and her relationship.

As I stood there, a mere cocktail into the evening, listening to her take on the matter, to her struggles with balancing a newly-formed relationship and the culture shock that is the hyperbolic role of daddy’s girlfriend and pseudo-stepmom, I both related to and rejected the emotional connection I instantly recognized between us. It was familiar. And painfully close.

It’s a place I never imagined I’d be. Neither at 22, nor at 27.

At her age, like her just starting out in an adult world of career, apartment, and endless possibility; I embraced the love of a man 13 years my senior, divorced, and with a son. And I was naive and optimistic and adrift in my new found role. I was dropped into a fishbowl of my own choosing, leaping before looking, convinced I was embarking on an adventure that was certainly worth the potential payoff. Somehow I managed to keep my head above water. Just.

But it was not to be of course. The pressures and near misses of the next five years proved to be too much for our little engine that could.

I waited a long time before responding to her question. I hedged and apologized for my perspective and even offered that I might not be the best person to offer advice given my own outcome. Still, I was flattered that she would think of me, reach out to me for the answers and semblance of support that I myself longed for all those years ago and each one along the way.

And what could I say really? That it takes a lot of patience and compassion for each person involved, especially when a child is involved- especially a daughter who views daddy’s girlfriend as a threat and in competition for his attentions, while at the same time rejecting any notion that his girlfriend might “mother” her?

What people sometimes forget or overlook is the challenge we outsiders feel. It’s such a precarious place to be- not a part of the “family,” not a parent, not a spouse, not anything to anyone really. But there everyday nonetheless.

It can wear upon a person kept outside, kept in that place for far too long, kept at a distance without support or appreciation or understanding. I understood what she was saying too well. And I wanted to keep my own frustrations and disappointments from my “advice.” I don’t know that I was ultimately successful.

All I could offer her in the end was what I wish someone could have told me at the very beginning, before the emotional involvement, before all that came after. I told her how it takes a special kind of person- a person most people are not, and really cannot be expected to be, at 22 or 23 or 24- to date a divorced father or mother.

I told her how it takes a person capable of not only accepting, but loving and caring for another couple’s child. A child you’ll likely come to love, but for whom you still have no rights to. A person who is mature enough and patient enough and secure enough to understand and not be threatened by the lingering ties between divorced parents who share a common history and a series of firsts for which you will never have with the one you are with- the first home, the first marriage, the first child.

And how it takes a special person who can do so without much understanding or support from friends or family who most likely cannot relate and may dole out judgment instead for the choices you make. It takes a person willing to gamble that the sacrifices inevitably required in such a relationship today are worth the chance at many happy tomorrows.

As for me, I wouldn’t trade the journey my 20s have taken me on and I wouldn’t trade the people and experiences that have passed through my life in the past five years, making me into the person I am today. I regret nothing. It was the gamble that I took, even though the odds were against me. But if someone had stood there, as I did the other night, alerting me to the likely pain that would come, I’d have clung to their advice. And done no differently.

The next day she thanked me for the understanding I shared, for my retrospective advice tempered with due restraint. Her view remains optimistic; believing in herself and the one she loves to face and conquer the challenges ahead. And really, no matter the relationship, that’s the best that each of us can do.

Filed under: family matters, friends, knowing, mothering, singletons by Nic