Back in the land of never never I was writing my profile for (ahem) an online dating site. The reality of us single mums (which I was at the time)  is that you become really good at time management or cutting out all the bullshit to put it bluntly. I wasn’t prepared to hang out in bars in the vein attempt to snag a man…I wanted to be more organised about it.

Sitting down looking at the blank fields I really struggled with what to write in the ‘about me’ section, its a little like freelance writing, you want the right mix of fact and drama. A bit of a hook to grab the reader and then a little bit of meatier stuff to keep them reading and then you have to finish off with a cracker of an ending. I was worried that if my big head popped up on the site old clients from workplaces past would find me and Id never be able to work again. This then spiralled into my money anxiety as a single mum and then I panicked that I would be destitute and living in a shelter with my daughter (I blame this hysteria solely on my addiction to the Gilmore Girls…for those that know the show you know their capacity to be anxious at the drop of a hat)


I put a password on my photo but I didnt do the usual thing of waiting for people to ask for it, I was sneaky, I put the password at the end of my profile that made the potential suitor read all the way to the end. Kind of like the free mascara’s you get if you buy a magazine. Maybe not.

One of the lines I was particularly proud of was we all have baggage but its about how we deal with that baggage that interests me the most. Looking back it sounds a bit smug now. I didnt want to say no to certain types of people or pass judgement on what they had gone through because I thought that I had the ghosts of boyfriends past and presumed that others did to.

Once you hit a certain age there is no way of not having baggage unless you’ve been living alone and never met another person. Ever. Its also not just about the relationships you’ve had but the life experiences you’ve endured, the losses you’ve witnessed and the things you’ve seen.

Its that space between past and present – how much is allowed to seep in and how much should be hidden behind the cushions on the lounge.

So what about you, how much past is in your present? Is there ever a way to lock it somewhere and move on?

PS I had little geographical boundaries in place to help me select the perfect date…and then one night I was trawling through the guys nearest me when a little smiley face skimmed across the bottom of the screen under the ‘featured pics’ of the day…one click of the mouse…one laugh at his daggy attempts at humour…one ‘kiss’ and the rest as they say is history.


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