What I do for my little guy......

I've caved.

Big time.

I simply cannot handle the constant "when are you getting married, I need a dad!" lament occurring here nightly, with matinee showings as well on the weekends. I've done the reasoning conversation, the one that goes something along the lines of...mama isn't ready, or brave....I've done the we don't meed a man, we're a family all on our own! thing, and now? NOW? I've finally reached the point of no return:

I signed up on match.com. To make my son happy. See, he thinks this is me "making an effort", as he told his feelings teacher the other day - now, should you read the profile? You'd realize this is the most passive aggressive way ensuring his security in his world. In a nutshell?

You: Mr. Fabulous. White horse unnecessary; conversational skills, intelligence, knowledge of pop warner football rules a plus.

Me: Girly girl, can cook circles around Martha Stewart, have perfect teeth and blue eyes. (read: everyone on here is most likely beneath me, my heart is still totally shattered, and I honestly don't want to hear from anyone. But especially you, Mr. I Like To Drive A Tractor To The Bank).

No photo. No comments on what I like, or don't; or what I'm looking for - because in Man Speak, looking for Mr. Fab while announcing I have a child signals all men on the face of the earth to run in the opposite direction.

Which is what I'm encouraging.

But. And it's a big but. The one guy in my life that I want to make happy? Is ecstatic. Now, I'm doing something. I'm being proactive. I'm really trying to find him a "real daddy", instead of just his "regular daddy", whom he knows is never going to be a "real daddy". I'm so heartbroken that he can say that, with a straight little face, somber brown eyes, framed with long lashes, that if this token gesture at "looking for Mr. Right" helps him sleep at night? I'm all for it.

We know Mr. Right isn't going to swan into my life anytime soon - or ever maybe - oh, I'd like to believe that Prince Charming is going to sweep me off my feet, fall in love with me and my son, my shedding, festively plump dog, (the hamster, FYI, is most likely in heaven now) but with my luck? His horse will bite. He'll be allergic to my dog. Or worse, he'll believe a woman professing to be my friend who lies about me, and then he'll sleep with her.

Shit. I already met him.

My Mr. Right? He'll know the little things....really bad days call for cake, birthday cake, stale is ok, flowers make me cry, nothing beats a fabulous kiss; he'll watch The Golden Girls with me, and Clean House, because I like it; he'll go see Foxy's Christmas Sing-A-Long, both times, (on the same day!) because it makes Fox feel safe, and loved, and valued.

If he comes with all that?

I'll even overlook his horse, if it bites.