“Arrrr” by Kinsee Morlan
Life changes so suddenly when you fall in love, especially when you fall in love with someone who has a kid. My current BF is actually the third gentleman I’ve dated with baggage in the shape of a cute little dimpled thing with energy that just won’t quit. My sister, too, is dating a guy with a few rugrats of his own. It’s a sign of the times — marriages are now temporary, children are still forever.
It ain’t easy adding a third party to the relationship equation, especially when the kid doesn’t speak the same language, but the “rewards,” as parents tend to say after dealing with the snot-nosed, tantrum-throwing version of their kids, make it all worthwhile. I’m not the boy’s mom, and I never will be, but I have to say that making him smile or laugh or widen his eyes with wonder is a heck of a lot of fun. He doesn’t give me his loving approval all the time, but when he does, I get all warm and fuzzy inside.
And seeing my BF with his boy is like foreplay for the genetically inclined, procreative side of my mind. My reproductive instincts get cranked up tenfold, and suddenly my inner voice is like, “Look, he would make a good provider and protector for your offspring — he already knows what he’s doing.” I wonder if other women experience the same thing, or if pre-relationship kids are more often a bright red flag that sends them dashing in the other direction.