Chapter 24 - I date again
I did not date for eighteen months.
Not because men must become monks after broken engagements.
Because I had no interest.
Then I met Rachel Morgan at a school fundraiser.
Thirty-eight.
Divorced.
One son, eight.
We had coffee.
Then dinner.
Then another dinner.
I told Lily after three months.
Not on the first date.
Not after a year of secrecy.
“Someone I’m seeing.”
“Like girlfriend?”
“Maybe.”
“Is she getting married to you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Children.
When Rachel eventually met Lily, she did not overperform.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
No gift.
No:
I’ve heard so much about you.
They talked about a school art project.
Rachel left after two hours.
Lily asked:
“Does she like me?”
“I think.”
“Do I have to like her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Later she did.
Rachel had her own son.
That helped in some ways.
Complicated others.
Schedules became mathematics.
But nobody asked:
Who comes first?
We discussed specific needs.
If Rachel needed a weekend away:
We planned.
If Lily had school:
We planned around it or chose another date.
If Rachel felt neglected:
She said:
“I need more time with you.”
Not:
You choose Lily over me.
That linguistic difference mattered.
By the three-year mark, Rachel and I were still dating.
No engagement.
No pressure.
May you like
No replacement mother.
A relationship allowed to become whatever behavior supported.
